My dad comes down the hallway, the heavy thud of his boots hitting the floor with each step. He comes into the kitchen, his camo uniform on and his shirt tucked neatly into his pants. His bag for work is waiting for him at the front door, and my mom hands him a lunchbox, giving him a kiss before he walks over to us.
“Mom’s gonna drop you two off and pick you up. Do you both have your phones?” We both nod quickly, mouths full of food. “Okay. Have a good day. And when I get home tonight Ema and Rodney are coming over and we’re going to be cooking dinner on the grill, so tell your mom what kind of chips, drinks, and desserts you want. We’re celebrating our kids' first day of high school.” I think he says that last part more to my mom than us, because his gaze leaves us and when I see her eyes misty. I know she’s thinking about all the things that go through parents’ heads when their kids start to gain independence.
My dad leaves, and we finish our food quickly. Raiden draws figures on the table and in between bites of egg and bacon, I do my best to guess. My mind feels like it's in a million different places right now, spread too thin between all the things I’m supposed to be focused on.
Raiden’s hand lands on my right leg and I freeze, my almost empty cup of orange juice pressed against my bottom lip.
“It’s going to be okay, I promise.” His eyes are bright,holding the truth of his words inside of him. He’s never promised me anything before.
He squeezes my leg under the table, his nimble fingers digging into me.
“Okay.” I say, my fingers itching to rest against his. I resist the urge, curling my hand tighter against my glass and tucking the other one under my left leg. The tangy orange juice shocks my senses and I down it quickly so we can leave and won’t be late.
My mom whipsher car into the line of parents dropping their kids off. The line starts halfway down the road and it creeps slower than a snail as my mom flicks her fingers against her steering wheel in tune with the country song playing on the radio.
Raiden is editing a selfie he took, flashing me quick images so I can help him decide which filter looks the best for each picture. He’s beautiful in all of them, I don’t see why he thinks he needs the filter.
“Do you want to come over after school? My mom bought meThe Simsand I want to play.” Raiden doesn’t look at me as he asks his question, I almost don't realize he is talking to me until the silence drags for so long my mom clears her throat uncomfortably in the front seat.
I shrug my shoulders, and the movement causes him to look up and narrow his brown eyes at me, a deep wrinkle forming between his eyebrows.
“You know what? Never mind. I’m not giving you the option, you’re coming over and I’ll teach you how to play.” I’ve never playedThe Sims,so I wouldn’t know what to do if I was left to my own devices. But knowing Raiden, he’ll take control of the situation so I won’t feel uncomfortable. He’s taken onthe role of mother hen in our friendship, making sure that I’m taken care of even if he does it in his own weird way. I probably wouldn’t have survived the last few months of school before summer break if it wasn’t for him being by my side and helping me put up with all the bullshit I wasn’t prepared for.
I offer him a grateful smile, and he rolls his eyes heavenward, but the smile on his face tells me how he’s secretly happy about the arrangement even if he’s not vocal about it.
My mom finally gets to the front of the line, stopping the car long enough for Raiden to hop out first and I follow after him, closing it with a thud. My mom waves to both of us before pulling away from the curb and leaving us for the first day of high school.
“Ready?” Raiden asks, a nervous look on his face that I’m not used to seeing there. He’s normally the epitome of confidence, but today he’s standing slightly behind me while we watch the other students milling about and walking into the building.
“Ready.” I state with more confidence than I feel.
And maybe it’s the way my body responds to his vicinity, reacting without thinking, but I reach my hand out to wrap his in a tight grip. His hand in mine is exactly the same as it was that first day I saw him, when he came over without a fear in the world and asked me to hang out with him. He squeezes my hand tightly to him, bringing us closer together. The fresh smell of his wildflower body wash comforts me. This is my friend, my only friend. We can make it through this together.
Raiden doesn’t let go of my hand as we take our first steps towards the place we’re going to spend the next four years together.
And that’s how we spend the rest of the day, side by side, walking to class with our bags slung across our backs. By third period, he’s complaining that it’s too heavy and so I take it fromhim. Carrying it into each of our classes and passing it off to him before we take our seats.
The last period of the day, we’re supposed to go our separate ways. Me going to the football locker room and him going to the dance studio. His goodbye feels somber, the brightly lit hallway contrasts with the slight frown marring his face.
“You can show me later what you learned today, if you want.” I offer, knowing that Raiden loves to dance and loves showing off.
His face brightens, the somberness forgotten as he shows off all his teeth in a huge smile. “Really? You won’t think I’m weird or..” He trails off and I watch his shoulders fall in on him, shrinking to make himself smaller. I hate it, I hate seeing the self doubt oozing from him.
“No, I won’t think you’re weird or anything. I like watching you dance.” My face flushes red and the tips of his ears turn pink with the compliment. I’ve just admitted that I watch him. It’s not like he hasn’t known, he has caught me multiple times. But it has always felt like a secret performance, something that neither of us acknowledge but we know it’s happening. And I said it out loud, risking his ridicule or judgment.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to teach you some of my moves then.” His wink is playful and I offer a small smile back to him. The warning bell rings, letting us know we only have a few minutes until we’re going to be late for our classes.
I hand him his bag and he tucks it into his body.
“Bye, Jer.” He says, the nickname rolling easily off his tongue. No one has ever called me a nickname, and the surprise of him calling me one has me smiling wildly as I turn my back to him and call, “Bye Raiden.” The whole way to the locker room, I can’t control my smile, the happy feeling blossoming in my body knowing that I have Raiden and he has me.
3
JERICHO
SOPHOMORE YEAR PART ONE
When I was fifteen years old, I knew I was well and truly fucked.
