Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: EIGHTH GRADE

D A T E : December 2009

✖ the life of kole ✖

With high school on the horizon, eighth grade seemed to lumber past like one of those giants in Harry Potter passing oh so meticulously on the planes of mountain sides, like a film in slow motion. The mountains, of course, were the ups and downs of my life between all the drama I didn't want to deal with, and yet was forced to the minute it started showing signs.

I already knew all about Kole's troubled life and the pain of living with two family members who didn't seem the least bit interested in his mental stability. The best they did was send him to therapy, which was every Tuesday at four o' clock sharp, and if he missed a session, his therapist would leave worried messages on the family answering machine wanting to know if Kole was doing fine.

I'd only been to Kole's house a few times—the first was after visiting him at the bike trail overpass for the second time and discovering that I didn't in fact have to run. He just wanted to talk. It was a Thursday evening in the middle of winter, and I hadn't brought Puck because I feared he'd run off into the forest while I was trying to run and find Kole.

I approached the bench panting, and when I saw he was relatively fine, I dropped my hands to my knees and let out a puff of breath. "Sometimes I wish you'd specify what it is-"

"You didn't have to run, you know," he laughed as I plopped down onto the bench "Why'd you run?"

I rubbed my hand over my forehead and said, "I thought something was wrong so I just- I dunno."

He let a small smile grow on his lips as he turned his eyes down to his lap. He was wearing a pair of black gloves and a knitted black beanie on his head. He'd gotten a haircut earlier that week, so now it just peaked out in the front and curled upward. With all his personal problems, at least he could say he could afford whatever he needed-slash-wanted—a PSP, a Northface, a laptop, therapy.

I didn't say any of that to him though. I didn't even mention it to Joni or Landon, but if anyone would get where I was coming from without it being an insult, it would be Clara. We didn't talk much anymore, so it would've sounded weird coming from me anyway.

Sometimes I was a bit jealous of Kole. He had all this stuff at his fingertips, and a family who didn't care what he did. He probably didn't even have to ask his dad to come out here, and he probably only had an intelligent conversation with his sister once a week. If it was twice, it'd almost be like they were real siblings.

We talked for a bit on the bench, first me asking worried questions like, "What're you doing over here? Is everything all right?" but after he debunked my concerns, he asked if I wanted to come over, because apparently there was a new game he just bought and thought I would enjoy.

I ended up going because I figured, why not? It sounded like fun. So we walked the short distance across the bridge and took a faded dirt trail around the outskirts of an alfalfa field. I'd never come this way before, and he talked all about how last year, the owner of the field grew corn here, and his sister took the most amazing pictures in the fall when the leaves dried and browned.

On the next road, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and inquired about my videos. I was a bit thrown off because we rarely talked about that stuff—for some reason it always seemed personal. And while I thought it was cool, and I geeked out over them with Joni and Landon, it wasn't a topic Kole and I normally discussed.

He mentioned it anyway. "I saw the videos of you and that British kid. You never talked about him before."

I pinched my right ear with my finger nails. "Uh, yeah, we used to go to school together when him and his family lived here. We stopped talking a while ago until we started making videos."

"What's his name again? I forget." I even put Fynn's name in the title of our videos, and for some reason it pissed me off that Kole was purposefully forgetting it.

"His name's Fynn. Fynn Walton. Ryan used to be all buddy-buddy with him, but I don't think they talk much anymore," I told him. "But it doesn't matter much now. I doubt they'll visit this summer—they don't have any relatives here since Mr. Walton's family lives in New York."

"So you and him are close?"

"I just said it doesn't matter."

"But you still talk-"

"Not really, no. Just to discuss who's posting when, but it's all pretty self explanatory." I was getting heated and I could feel my ears burning, but it wasn't like I wanted to blow up at Kole. He was being ridiculous about the entire ordeal. It made me think about how I could start to pick up on when he was on edge. At school once there was this crazy almost-episode where we got to talking about school because I knew how intelligent he was. He was almost on Zach's level, and he got there by working hard and panicking over his grades like none other. All I'd done was ask him about how the test went—the one in his advanced algebra class that he'd been studying like crazy for over a week—and he told me all about the second to last page where he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, to figure out the problem.

I guess I felt bad for him, because I couldn't even begin to imagine getting worked up over a test like that. It was kind of depressing hearing him get hung up on this problem like he couldn't get on with his life unless he got the answer right.

To be honest, I couldn't really remember if he'd gotten the question right. All I knew was that he got an A- and thought it was the end of the world, and around that time I got to thinking about how crazy he was about school, and while he did study a lot, it was all at school. At home he dropped everything like his bedroom door was the threshold to freedom.

And that's exactly what happened that day I first went to his house.

We got through garage door since they didn't use the front door. I had to mentally tell myself to keep up my pace in fear of falling behind looking at the majesty that was his home. I knew his dad worked for my uncle, and that all those guys were top dogs and whatever, but wow.

"Did you guys build here or what?"

"Yeah, we moved after it was built," he told me, approaching the pad beside the garage door and tapping in the code. "My dad's super into that hunting stuff, so ignore the deer heads."

"The what?"

He wasn't kidding. After we got through the kitchen—which was lovely with stain wood cabinets and marble countertops—the living space opened to support wall space for deer, ducks, and pheasants. There was a massive buck mounted straight on from the front door, just below the railings that guarded the second floor from the chandelier over our heads. Beyond the staircase was an office, and I could hear the distant clicking of someone's fingers over a keyboard.

"Hey dad. I have a friend over so we'll just be upstairs," Kole called into the room. For some reason I was somewhat terrified of seeing Kole's father. I'd never even run into him—not really—at my uncle's Fourth of July party that one year, so I wasn't sure what to expect. I couldn't even remember if he had black hair or grey, but as it turned out, he had a mixture of both.

He rolled his chair over the wood flooring to see us over the rim of his frameless glasses. "Oh yeah? Who's your friend?"

I could practically hear Kole roll his eyes, and a voice in my head saying to watch out for his dad's mischievous tone. He had that type of intimidating voice that was always on the verge of some sarcastic comment to kick our legs out from under us.

"My name's Skye. Scott Hemming is my uncle," I told him, and in a snap a smile formulated on his lips and he stood right up from his office chair.

"Well is it so? You know you're uncle's a real good friend of mine. I've heard a lot about you." It was like Uncle Scott suddenly became my dad, and I had the distinct urge to leave. He shook my hand like he intended to snap every single one of my fingers, and patted me on the shoulder like he was establishing some sort of meaning between the two of us, which meant he could face plant me into the ground if he so chose.

Kole made up some crap about having only an hour to hang out, and did a swell job at it to. His dad said, "Of course, of course. Don't have too much fun up there, and make sure to show her the basement!"

Even though I'd never even been in Kole's house before, I made a point to scurry up in front of him. Beyond the banister and the railing overlooking the foyer, there was a painting of a lake and forest signed by the artist.

"What's in the basement?" I asked curiously, voice hushed as if his dad was listening.

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "It's not even finished yet. He's had plans to make, like, this bar and diner thing for parties and whatever, but right now the walls are just painted. Pretty lame. Oh, just right here."

I moved to where he gestured, and nudged open the door to his room. It'd been a while since I'd last been in a guy's room, other than Landon's, so seeing the shades of blue on each of the walls, the white blankets, the simple, plain desk, were a stark contrast to what I remembered.

He was so... neat.

"I... really like your room," I told him, but I wasn't entirely sure that was the truth. It just seemed calming, being in an area surrounded by simple space.

"Yeah, it's not much. Figured it's not permanent anyway."

"You aren't moving, are you?" I gasped, and he laughed and denied the idea. "Geez, way to scare me! Not exactly the best tactic to tell me anyway."

"Sorry. It's just after high school, ya know, college, and then whatever else happens happens. My old room was pretty crazy, so I figured to dim it down a bit."

I drifted over to his TV set with all his gaming consoles. It sat atop a short cabinet with a series of games organized by platform, alphabetized, and a small metal book stopper between each. He came over and turned on the TV, and slid out the game he purchased.

"Why not play it with your other buddies. I know Ryan is a big gamer."

"Yeah, but all he plays are racing games. This is what I'm talkin' about." He popped open the case and inserted the game before dragging over a large cushion from beside the TV. It was like the type of detachable cushion found on outdoor furniture, and it was big enough for three people to sit across on to play video games. The back of the cushion leant up against his bed, so it was perfect seating.

Like many of Kole's quirky habits, he tended to slouch, so we leant against one another like we were the edge of two seats. It felt so natural I forgot about the "Ew, coodies!" concept we'd all fashioned over the years. I didn't think anything of it until I wasn't just an armrest, because his cheek was resting on top of my head, and soon it became clear to us both that I had no intention of moving. With all his height and the length of his arms, he wrapped his left arm behind me and around my torso, his controller now partially on my lap as we played the game. His constantly moving hands tickled, but I didn't care.

I didn't care that I felt like a piece of cardboard, but I figured hey, this was probably what it felt like for middle schoolers to "cuddle". It was awkwardly charming in the worst way possible.

After that day, I was pretty sure we were more than just friends, and everyone at school seemed to realize it. It was like we were in a relationship without even saying it out loud or even discussing it, but just like camp in sixth grade, something was bound to happen, and it of course involved Bluebitch, the school's #1 Queen Bee.

Just. Grand.