The last year of school was particularly stressful. Responsibilities, exams, hormones constantly falling like a heavy stone on the soul - all these supposedly necessary components of a routine teenage life were incredibly distracting from what was really important.
Once was.
The doghouse, once thoroughly restored to the smallest detail in the new Dave-Foutley family nest, has been empty for several months, accumulating thick layers of dust inside. After the death of Monster - Karl's beloved, and, in a sense, long-awaited dog, the house once again turned into a secret laboratory of bosom friends. Ah, how many experiments this wooden building, rather fragile for reckless inventions of growing up boys, has seen; how many vials with an alcoholic abomination were shattered in it, how many scratches and cuts were casually sealed with a plaster in its wooden gut, which was immersed in a greenish gloom. All secrets were hidden in its depths, starting with plans to take over the world and ending with plans to take over the hearts of the girls of Lucky Junior High. All secrets were opened to it, and it was their best keeper. Meanwhile, every year there were more and more troubles, and their refuge, sadly, was visited less and less, until one day its plank flaky door was suddenly enclosed by a huge barn lock. "Until better times," Karl said then, somehow gently stroking its rough surface, clearly not afraid to pick up a splinter. Though, none of the friends knew an answer to the question of which ones are "the best", and when they will come.
Shortly after this seemingly insignificant event, everything changed radically. The Bishops did not keep silent about them moving, no, just one day, having come to a friend, a small noisy girl popped out to meet Karl, loudly notifying him that the previous owners had left to live closer to the mountains in order to heal the health of the mother of the family. Karl's heart sank somewhere in his heels, and even when a loud kid slammed the door in front of him, he stood for several minutes, staring blankly at it. His best friend, his right hand, almost the Siamese twin and brother in spirit did not leave a single sign, not a single note that foreshadowed such a result. And when Karl pondered this sad thought once more, he got a brainwave.
Never in his life he had fled so fast, panting, but not slowing down. The final destination is an abandoned doghouse. Having carefully examined each gap, he finally found what he wanted to find. Numerous apologies, excuses, and promises to visit him every month were scrawled on a piece of paper in a hurry. And so, after six months and hundreds of letters sent to nowhere, Karl was tired of waiting.
The unusually sultry May days were strangled by the abundance of the sun, not allowing to concentrate either on study or on anything else. Thoughts seemed to evaporate from the head under the influence of a scorching sun, which mercilessly fried the inhabitants of the town like a frying pan. The brains of young graduates stubbornly did not want to memorize theorems and rules, but their owners also didn't dare to go out for a walk, threatened to be burned alive. But even such crappy weather has never stood in the way of Carl Foutley.
The way to the station was short, but painful, though the boy didn't back down, thinking that the culprit of this infernal campaign would still pay. The address, neatly written by Ginger under the dictation of Dodie, train tickets and a can of ice-cold soda were perhaps the main attributes of today. Then the train, the picturesque views from the window, and finally the mountain coolness - all that Karl was waiting for. Well, almost everything. After that - a lengthy search for a house, a painful waiting near the front door, Joanne Bishop's disapproving look, and now the only thing that separated him from his former friend was such a long, for some reason, flight of stairs.
Bursting into a room without knocking, even to yesterday's best friend, is, after all, impolite. Showering him with slaps and inaults, perhaps, too. A sudden kiss is fleeting, impulsive and brief so it is not clear who initiated it. However, it plunges Karl into a complete stupor, and only a blush spills over his face. Then another kiss. And another. And now they are lying on the floor of the room, embracing each other, wondering, how they came to this. There is no heat, but it is still difficult, reluctant to think. It is much easier to accidentally run eyes over each other's faces, carefully hiding sheepish smiles.
And then again a train, a station, a city, a doghouse and an opened rusty lock. He promised to visit him, and finally fulfilled his obligation. Apparently, it was just necessary to wait for better times.