The Specks of Smallness

Aaron | Eight

                                                         Aaron | Eight

Carson is outside my house at seven o'clock in the morning, in his truck with the music loud enough to wake the neighbors. I pick up my backpack that sits lump in the corner of my room that seems to never catch daylight. I put my laptop to sleep, not closing out of any site, knowing that as soon as I got home I would be returning to those exact sites. I slip on my shoes that are too tight-fitting on my small feet, and head out my house, passing Dad in his office and Mom doing yoga before she goes to work at the prison. 

  Outside, the morning sky is between lightness and darkness, and birds chirp in a tune that is muffled from the sound of the country music emerging from Carson’s truck. I can see him singing along with it, pretending that he’s playing a classical guitar, finally stopping when he sees that I’m just inches away from the truck. 

  “You ready for senior year?” he asks, turning down the music so I can listen better, and so I wouldn’t have to talk louder than I should. 

  I throw my backpack on my lap after putting on my seatbelt. He rides off, windows rolled down for the morning wind can blow through my hair and on my skin. I lean on the door, looking at the sky and the streetlights that haven’t gone off yet, smile a little. 

 “It’s kind of scary, don’t you think?” I reply finally. 

  “Elaborate a little, will ya?” he jokes, both hands on the wheel when he comes up on a stop sign. 

  I look out at the trees that stand taller than us, making me feel like an ant, and the leaves that seem like they’re trying to reach us, to pinch us into nothing. I say, “This is our last year of high school. After this year, we are all going our separate ways, and soon we’ll have to do adult stuff: pay bills, taxes, maybe child support.”

  “But that’s how life works. You can’t run away from it.”

  “I know. It’s also scary that I don’t know what my future looks like. What if I go down the wrong path?”

  He doesn’t reply as he turns onto a roadway that leads to school, passing through a small town that just seems too perfect to be real. When he makes a left at a boutique store, he clears his throat. “Some people go down the wrong path, but it happens for a reason. And reasons can change. Nothing is forever. There’s an ending to everything.”

  Carson parks his truck on the end closer to the gym, in the parking lot that is buzzed with freshman riding bicycles and trying to find people to hang out with. Some people load off of buses, and others are dropped off by guardians. The freshman are shorter than what they were at my old school. 

  There's a huddle of sophomores heading inside the school, looking down upon the freshman, acting as if they weren't in that position the year before. A lot of them, from what I see, has stubble on their face, and deep voices.  

  I can't tell the difference between juniors and seniors, as I walk through the gym doors where Carson's friends all hang out before school starts. The bleachers are a shinier red, with an abundance of people sitting together, talking amongst themselves. The weird ones sit on the floor, no shoes or socks, strumming a guitar that bounces off the walls and mixes in with the cheerleaders that practice a cheer in front of girls who are wannabes and guys who can’t get laid by even the most simple-minded women.

  At the top of the bleachers, in front of the graffiti art that’s a picture of our school mascot, a knight with a plume, sits some of Carson’s teammates, Elin, and Lily. Some other people surround them, pretending that they’re a part of the crew, but they are only making a fool of themselves, trying to be something they aren’t.