Chapter 3:

"Friends are like stars. Sometimes you don't see them, but they're always there." –Anonymous

Jason let out a small groan as he managed to crawl through the window of Jorge's loft. They had entered here since they were about six, always climbing up the thatching, up onto his roof, opening the window, and climbing in. Jorge left it open all the time, in case any of his friends ever wanted to chill at his place to cool off. His friends hardly ever did—it was more likely that Jorge was mad and he wanted to cool off—either angry at his father or his mother.

Jason landed with a thump in Jorge's room, and curled up on his bed. "Hey… so do you have it?"

Jorge smiled, "Of course," he said, indicating a green jacket.

Jason grinned back, "So, we're just waiting for Alek and West now?"

Jorge nodded, "Alek has to come through the front door though. Just after we left, he sprained his ankle. No climbing for him."

"How'd he do that?"

"He tripped over a manhole while he was skipping."

Jason chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Alek, Alek, Alek. He would miss him this summer.

There was a ringing of a doorbell from downstairs, the voice of Alek politely saying hello to Jorge's mother, and then loud thumping as he managed to limp upstairs.

"So how long do you have to wear that for?" Jason asked when he came in, indicating an ankle brace that Alek had on.

"One week," Alek said calmly, "it didn't hurt that much. You were probably wishing it did, didn't you?" He absentmindedly scratched his eyebrow ring as Jason tried not to grimace.

Jorge, however, was looking expectantly out the window. "It's Weston's turn today."

The guys were assigned to bring some sort of snack every time they met. They took turns in rotations. If Alek was chosen, he usually brought some rock-hard cookies that his mom had tried to make along with a couple of sodas. If it was Jorge's turn, he usually ransacked his fridge at the last minute and therefore his snacks were unpredictable—ranging from left-over Chinese food to a package of moldy cheese. And of course, none of the guys would ever forget the one time when Jason had run out of food, and ran to his fridge and brought them each a raw egg, failing to mention that they were uncooked. West, assuming that they were boiled, had smashed the egg on his head, promptly screamed, ran for the shower, and refused to talk to Jason for a week. West mainly brought chips or something. But today, since it was their last day together, he said he was planning a "surprise."

There was a loud clambering from the window as Weston managed to squeeze in, holding a huge bag. The three guys glanced at him.

"So?"

West pulled out a coffee machine and a bag of sugar, along with a pitcher of cream.

"You have got to be kidding me," laughed Jorge, shaking his head.

West ignored him, plugged the machine in, and pulled out a bag of coffee beans.

"Let's get started then," he said, ignoring the faces trying hard not to laugh.

"Started on what?" asked Alek. "The coffee?"

"No!" West snapped. "The rules of course."

"What rules?" was the collective reply.

"The rules for wearing the Traveling Jacket, of course."

"We need rules?" asked Jason dazedly.

"Of course we do."

And of course they made them. West could push his way into anything. He pulled out a spiral notebook and a pen and handed them to Alek after writing "The Brotherhood of the Traveling Jacket agrees to these rules" with flourish. "You do the first one."

Alek scrawled in a number one. "Uh…" he said uncertainly.

"Hurry up," said a West, whose brow was furrowed in frustration. The coffee wasn't turning out the way he liked it.

Alek hurriedly scrawled in a rule and passed it to Jorge, who said, "That's disgusting. Not washing it?"

"It's a good idea," noted Jason. "We could lose ourselves that way… Put your rule down, Jorge."

Jorge scribbled in another rule, while West continued to fumble with the coffee machine. Jorge passed it to Jason, who wrote in another, and West who, ignoring his coffee machine for a second, and scratched in another rule. They worked on the rest of the rules together, and soon it was complete. Ten rules.

We, (Weston, Jason, Jorge, and Alek), from now on referred to as the Brotherhood have to follow these rules on penalty of death or having to eat five raw eggs or jumping off a balcony or having to wear high heels for three months. These are the rules—follow them, or go home:

You cannot wash the jacket.

You must never say "I'm ugly" in the jacket, because all are "b-e-a-utiful" in the jacket.

You have to write what you're doing on the jacket over the summer, so the brothers know what you're doing.

You cannot lend the jacket to a girl (or a guy for that matter), even if she (or he) looks really cold.

If you lose the jacket, you will have to do all of the following listed above.

You cannot scratch at your crotch or your armpit while wearing the jacket because it just looks weird.

You have to call/write/talk to in person to your brothers. If you ignore them, the other brothers (especially Jorge, haha) will personally break down and cry.

You have to send the jacket from brother to brother. If you keep it, the other brothers will promptly kick you out of the Brotherhood forever. However, you may give the jacket to a brother in need.

If you tuck in your shirt when you are wearing the jacket, you will have to do one of the above punishments.

Remember, jacket hotness; therefore, your friends hot, and you hot. In other words, love your friends.

Right then West's coffee machine exploded. It spilled all over Jorge's carpet, to his disappointment, and the rest of the night was spent mopping up the floor. Their last night together was over. They hugged (the way guys hugged), and set off, waving to their friends—waiting to see what the summer would bring them.

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