4. Something Magical
Darren's POV on Chapter 3 of As a White Knight on His Steed
1999 – 2001
Even though Chris and I were best friends, we only got to see each other at camp. During the school year, we had to survive as pen pals. Fortunately for me, Chris has always loved to write. I got a letter from him at least once a week, and I always wrote back right away.
When we were in fourth grade, Chris started sending me stories along with his letters. Here's the first one he ever wrote for me:
Once upon a time there were two boys named Darren and Chris. They were best friends, so of course they did everything together.
One Saturday morning as they were walking to the library together, Chris said, "I wish Mrs. Peters wouldn't give us homework on the weekend."
"I know," Darren said. "But at least we can do it together."
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "Can you imagine how terrible it would be if we weren't in the same class?"
"That would totally suck!" Darren said.
They arrived at the library and found the book of fairy tales they needed for their homework assignment. When they opened the book, it started to glow and hum. Suddenly, Darren and Chris got sucked right into the book. They landed in a strange forest.
Darren and Chris looked around. They were surrounded by the biggest, meanest looking wolves they had ever seen. There were at least a dozen wolves, and they all had huge, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. The wolves began to come closer and closer.
Darren and Chris didn't know what to do. They were shaking with fear. They grabbed each other's hands and held on tight.
Just as the wolves were about to attack, a teenage girl came galloping up on a white horse. She jumped down to the ground and whipped out a pair of ninja swords. She spun the swords around, slashing at the wolves. Her horse spun around, too, kicking wolves in every direction. Pretty soon all of the wolves ran away.
"Wow!" said Darren. "That was awesome! Who are you?"
"I'm Goldilocks," said the girl.
"But I thought Goldilocks was just a little girl," Chris said.
"I grew up," Goldilocks said. "Everyone does. Unless they get eaten by the big bad wolves, that is. So if you two want to live to be teenagers, you'd better get out of here before they come back."
Isn't that the most awesome thing ever? I mean, imagine being a nine-year-old boy and getting a starring role in a story about wolves and ninja swords, along with your best friend in the whole world.
Of course, I begged for more. And of course, Chris never let me down. Every week he'd send me a new chapter about our adventures in the fairy tale world. Sometimes we'd meet up with Cinderella, or Snow White, or Jack and the Beanstalk, and sometimes we'd encounter random trolls, or goblins, or dragons. But always we'd be together. And honestly, that was the best part.
The following summer, when we were ten (six whole weeks of camp – yay!) Chris introduced me to Harry Potter. It's hard for me to believe, now, that there was ever a time when I hadn't heard of Hogwarts, but like most of the other magical things in my life, that one started with Chris. And in the same way that the stories Chris wrote began with the two of us getting sucked into a book of fairy tales, I felt as though we'd been sucked into a world of witches and wizards and magical beasts. All that I wanted – all that I needed – was to spend that summer cuddled up with my best friend, reading to each other.
The only bad thing about having a perfect summer is that it doesn't last forever.
Have you ever wished for something so desperately that you felt like you could make it happen by sheer force of will? It seemed like camp just couldn't end. And then, when it did, it seemed like there was no way we could possibly say goodbye. And then, when we did, it seemed like we'd just have to see each other before the next summer.
So here's a weird but true story:
Chris had always seemed a little bit magical to me. Not like he could do magic, but like he was magic. And then reading about Professor McGonagall changing into a cat made me think of how there's something catlike about Chris, too. So all through that endless fifth-grade school year, whenever I would see an unfamiliar cat outside, I would have this fleeting thought of maybe Chris has come to visit me.
I knew it was just make-believe (I'm not crazy, no matter what my friends might tell you) but somehow, I always had to get closer, just to check. Sometimes the cat would get scared and run off, and then I'd know it wasn't Chris, 'cause he'd never be afraid of me. And sometimes I could tell by the way the cat was sitting or moving that it wasn't him, 'cause there's something about the way Chris holds himself, and something about the way he moves, that is just unmistakable.
But sometimes I could hold onto the illusion until I got close enough to look directly into the cat's eyes. And then I'd feel this nonsensical wave of disappointment. Because I'd know Chris's eyes anywhere, and they were never there looking back at me.
End Notes: Any Starkids out there? Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Anyone out there have no idea what I'm referring to? Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Now talk amongst yourselves – feminist postmodern literature – go! ;D