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sixteen
ELIOT
I have to admit,the views of town are pretty good from up here. You can see the whole thing from my chair. The night sky is teaming with stars, and the weather is perfect.
You can finally fill the nip of fall in the air. And if I get cold, the fire I started should keep me warm. Even if it’s just a bunch of tiny fires shaped in a D and a C on the hill behind the football field. It’s the same emblem that is on the front of the letterman jacket that hangs in my closet.
You usually only see this lit up for homecoming, but I decided to make a random Wednesday night the exception. When the kids in high school set this thing on fire any time but on homecoming night, they hightailed it out of here. It’s not like you can’t see it from town after all. I’m more safety-minded though. Don’t want to take a chance on burning up the pasture.
This was a late addition to the list. I overheard some teenagers talking about homecoming and decided to add it. I should have invited someone to help me. It’s kind of lonely up here roasting marshmallows on my own.
As if reading my mind, a sheriff’s cruiser pulls up near the fieldhouse. Long, skinny legs swing out of the driver’s door. It’s not Owen. Not that I was hoping for it to be him or anything.
I watch as the deputy slowly climbs the hillside up to me. “Hey, Eliot,” Arlo says a little winded.
“Hey,” I respond. “Marshmallow?” I hold out an extra roasting stick and the bag toward him.
He shrugs and takes them. I stare out at the town below as he wrestles with his stick. He finally gets his marshmallow over the fire and slides onto an upturned stump. You can tell where the local teenagers have been; they always leave improvised chairs behind. Makes life convenient.
“So what are you doing up here, Eliot?” Arlo asks.
“Just taking in the view. Eating a snack.”
“You know you can’t just light the sign whenever, right?” He pops his toasted marshmallow in his mouth. “Jusohomcomin,” he says around the gummy mess. I hand him a beer from the cooler next to me. He shrugs again and tips it back. “I said, just on homecoming.”
“Show me the amendment to the town charter that says that.”
“Eliot,” he smirks.
“Fine, it should die down shortly. Another marshmallow?”
“I wish I could, but I just came on shift.” He hands me the rest of his beer. “With Owen having to go to days since the kid arrived, we’re trading nights. It’ll be nice when he’s back in the rotation.” He stands. “Well, be careful up here and make sure everything is out before you leave. I’ll handle calming down Mr. Hamby.”
“Thanks, Arlo.”
He gives me a small wave and starts down the hill. Another truck pulls up to the fieldhouse. This one I recognize immediately. Reed climbs out and pulls a chair out of the bed. He begins to climb, stopping halfway to visit with Arlo.
When he reaches me, he unfolds his chair and flops down. I hand him a beer and the marshmallow supplies.
“So, no Owen this time, huh?” he asks when he’s got his snack over the fire.
“Arlo said he’s working days.”
“I guess it’s pretty hard finding someone to watch the kid.”
“Yeah, Brontë stressed out trying to find someone in Austin for Keats when they’re working.”
“Have you spoken to Owen since that all went down?”
“No. He’s sent a couple of texts, but I haven’t responded. I’m sure he’s busy.”
Reed nods before loading his mouth full of food. We sit in silence while he tries to swallow. I don’t want to talk about Owen anyway. I’m not sure what to do. He hasn’t mentioned cashing in on that raincheck in the few short texts he’s sent. I just figure we’re better off letting things cool back down between us.
I miss him though. It’s hard to admit, but I do. He was warm and funny. He never got angry no matter how far off the rails I went. I think he was even starting to enjoy the chase.
“We’ve been good friends for a while now,” Reed says suddenly.
“Best friends.”
