Hello, everyone! I'm sorry that it's taken so long to come up with this dinky little chapter. I hope you enjoy and continue to read! And Happy Easter!
7. My Moon
Spock followed Jim away into the night, beyond the block his house was on, beyond the streets of Riverside, beyond the treeline in the backest of back yards, beyond even where the dogs went to play. The tall grass whipped at the boys' ankles and fingertips as they ran through fallow fields and riverbeds. The night air tickled Spock's ears as it flew across his face, running upwind, running towards a very special place.
Sure, there was a faster way to get to the hill. Jim could have gotten there in half the time if he had wanted to. They'd have to go a little out of the way to go by that path: They'd have to jump over two extra fences and climb up a dead tree, but the long way was the right way. That was the way it was in the beginning. That was the way it was now. You had to go around in circles to get there.
Over a stagnant creek near where all the old tires were dumped. Up another tree, so you wouldn't have to climb the ridge. Follow the row of Queen Ann's Lace flowers until you get to the barbed wire fence. Turn left at that scraggly bush with the robin's nest in it. Edge around Farmer Cormack's cornfield, and then you were home-free.
Jim grabbed the overlong end of Spock's sleeve and dragged him up a well-beaten trail to the crest of a small hill, a mere bump upon the land. It was actually closer to a pile of dirt than a hill, but the principle was the same. It was like a castle up there. The boys could see everything clearly for miles in the moonlight, so bright it cast shadows.
"I like to come here when I'm sad or angry," Jim said. "I've known about this place for a few years, and nobody else does. Not even Sam. It's a complete secret."
"No it's not," Spock replied. "I know about it. It's not a secret anymore."
"Sure it is!" Jim assured him. "It used to be my secret, but now it's our secret."
Like the secret Spock kept from Amanda. She had no idea that they were there.
"Hoo-ee!" Jim yawned, stretching enormously. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Spock fully intended to answer. He shuffled his feet. He itched his nose. He cleared his throat. There was so much to say – just about everything – but he couldn't open his mouth.
"Well?" Jim turned to his friend expectantly. "Whaddaya think?"
I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I should be at home, asleep. Even if I were to go home and fall asleep this instant, I would only get five-point-three hours of sleep, which is an insufficient amount to restore my energy fully.
Jim crossed his arms, starting to get agitated. "Spock? Hello? Do you like it here?"
"Beauty is relative," Spock blurted. That ought to do it. Go to one of the old default answers. State a fact.
"Yeah, that's great. It's okay if you don't like it. I know it's really different than what you're used to. You can just say you don't like it, you know."
"That's not what I meant," Spock stammered. Why was it that he had the academic ability of a human twice his age, but answering a simple question like this was so difficult?
"What'cha thinking about?" Jim asked, seemingly less annoyed.
"Many things," Spock answered. "A lot has happened in the past few days. Today has been especially eventful, and I have much to wonder about. I have many questions that I must answer."
"Like what?"
"I do not share my qualms with anyone, Jim. I am sorry."
Whether it was because Jim didn't know what the heck a "qualm" was, or because he respected Spock's privacy, he didn't push the issue further. Not for another few minutes at least, after Spock was done spacing out at the horizon. "So do you like it here or not?"
"I thought I already answered that question."
"No, you didn't. You just said that beauty is elephant or something."
"Isn't that answer enough?"
"Well, it would be, except what does that have to do with anything?"
"It means that what one person finds beautiful may not be beautiful to another person."
"Yeah, but what do you think? Is this hilltop pretty or what?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
Now Jimmy was really getting frustrated. "You know, Sam said Vulcans are supposed to be really smart, but you can't answer one stupid question!"
"The question itself is irrelevant, and expressing my opinion would be illogical," Spock retorted, trying not to raise his voice. Jim was yelling at him. That in itself was a challenge to deal with, not to mention the hurricane going on inside him: Stay friends with Jim. Don't stay friends with Jim. All the evidence had been presented. Stay. Don't stay.
"Jeez!" Jim shouted. "How can you get, like, a billion on your report card and still be so dumb? You're like a computer! You know everything, but you can't do anything!"
"I can do things!" Spock shouted back. It was no use trying to maintain composure any longer. "I can beat you in chess, I can solve a linear equation, I can –"
"But that's stupid stuff!" Jim hollered. "I mean, you don't have a favorite color, or a favorite band, or a favorite food!"
"Having favorites is illogical!"
"Not having favorites is stupid!"
"I'm not stupid!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I'm not!"
"You're like the stupidest person I know! And if you don't tell me whether you like the stupid hill or not, I won't be friends with you any more!"
"Good! That's what I wanted, anyway!"
"Fine! Then I'll be friends with you until I'm dead!"
"You can't be friends with someone you don't even like!"
"Watch me! I can be friends with whoever I want!"
"Then why don't you go back and be friends with Mark? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."
Jim looked like Spock had slapped him in the face. "Take it back," he snarled.
"No!"
"Take it back!"
"No!"
Jim tackled Spock, and they fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt, a flurry of fists and elbows. They tumbled back down the hill together, still wrestling all the way, and kept the fight going in the little gully at the bottom. And somwehere amidst all that commotion, Spock's hand found its way to Jim's cheek.
Jim knew within that second that something terrible was going to happen, but he didn't have time to do anything to stop it. Spock's eyes had grown as wide as dinner-plates, his mouth slightly agape, staring into the distance; and in that same second, Jim felt himself launched into a somewhere. A sometime? No, a something.
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