THE Unidentifiables

Talking in a Diner Borden

Diners. I absolutely hate diners, they are gross and disgusting and no one cleans the floor and it’s all filled with ger-

“Where is this boy?” Ezequiel asked, he was obviously focusing his gaze on things other than the disgustingly dirty floor, while I couldn’t see around it, how could someone see around the messy floors and the even messier tables? It was horrible, horrendous even.

“He’s right over there.” Osvald pointed to a boy sitting at the cleanest table, his hands on the table, but not his elbows. He looked like a business associate, his hands folded up as if he were about to make a trade with someone important. I didn’t want to go near him, he looked like the definition of ‘if looks could kill’ but if that was the case he would have even less empathy, and despite my eternal protests to stay put, the group still gathered around the table he was at, earning confused looks from the others in the restaurant.

“This is Ian.” Noe pointed to the boy, and now more emotions seemed to swarm the guy's face, he suddenly looked aware of the group standing in front of him, and his eyes seemed to uncloud. He looked at them all, then sighed.

“I’ll have to show you again, won’t I?” he asked, obviously annoyed at the power drainage, that it took to do the cool trick. Everyone nodded, eager to see what all the fuss was about, but he just took a coke bottle and stepped out of the booth he had been sitting in since the two had left the park. He made his way towards the door, dodging workers as they walked to different tables, holding out plates of burgers, fries, and strawberry milkshakes. The boy, Ian had finally made it to the door when he turned around and motioned for us to follow. I am all for leaving this nasty diner, but follow a boy I barely know? And just for entertainment purposes? No way. Still, the others seemed less hesitant to follow the stranger out of the diner, and I couldn’t just leave them with this guy, I mean, I’m not the best fighter, but my father did sign me up for a karate class back in 3rd grade, so I can chop the air but it’s not the best and I’m sort of like ungraceful ninja, but hey any help’s a good help, right? But if this boy can do what Osvald said he could, maybe it would just be best to stay quiet and follow and not fight, well at least until necessary. As we walked out of the diner, a bell rang signaling the door was opening and we were almost all out when Osvald ran into the light-up open sign, causing it to fall to the ground and Osvald placed it back and grinned.

“I guess everything just falls for me eh?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but he just laughed.

“You’re just a doofus,” I replied and rolled my eyes again at his still, grinning face.

“You’re no fun Borden, this is why we call Mr. Boring behind your back,” he said while sticking out his tongue and scrunching his face up to make him look upset, but I knew he was just joking, well about me being boring, not about calling me Mr. Boring, he actually does that.

“You’re too clumsy Mesa, this is why we call you table behind your back because you’re always bumping into them,” I replied sticking out my tongue as well. We also call him table, because his last name is Mesa, meaning table in Spanish, it was just too perfect. Soon we reached the park that my two friends had been at about twenty minutes ago, when we got there, Ian looked around just to find that no one was there, he seemed not to notice that we were the only ones crazy enough to be out when it was getting colder, being from both the upcoming change in the season and the fact that it was almost 7:00 PM. Ian held out the empty coke bottle, the green glass glowing underneath the moon and stars, he closed his eyes, his eyebrows scrunching up as he was deep in thought. Suddenly the bottle began to zoom around us going right, then left, up, and down, rocking around like a tugboat in the ocean. I looked at the bottle with wide eyes, then turned to my group, how, who…what!? Noe and Osvaldo looked amused at our faces, no doubt my mouth was hanging open and my eyes as wide as galaxies themselves. Thad and Ezequiel were looking at the bottle with a sparkle in their eyes, almost as if they had been waiting for this their entire life, waiting for something interesting to happen, something like a boy who could make a coke bottle float in mid-air with his mind. Then the bottle fell back down and into his hands again, the movement coming to a stop. Ian opened his eyes again.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he questioned and then we were following him again, this time to a dark, dank woods.