summer child // joshler

3

josh's point of view

the rest of the week goes by fast. friday especially.

adam and i are already walking towards the bus when tyler approaches us.

"hey," he shifts his weight from foot to foot a bit awkwardly. he does that when he's anxious, always has. i wonder if his mom told him to talk to me.

"hi..?"

"um, happy summer. do you, like, want a ride home? we can hangout. or something," he pushes the words out quickly, like they're hard for him to say.

i look to adam and he looks confused, offering me a shrug. "go ahead. i've gotta catch the bus though. i'll text you later, j," he walks off then, leaving me alone with tyler.

"i guess, sure. thanks," i nod and watch him physically relax, shoulders lowering and jaw unclenching.

"cool. um, i parked over that way," he points to the back of the lot and i follow him to his car.

i get in and leave my backpack at my feet while he throws his in the backseat. he starts the car and his music starts playing loudly. he jumps a bit and scrambles to turn it down.

"shit, sorry," he takes a breath and then pulls out of the parking spot. "anyway, uh... do you wanna get mcdonalds or something? i'm kinda hungry," he says, not taking his eyes off the road.

"sure."

this is... awkward. there's a weird tension in the car and neither of us say anything else until we get to the restaurant.

we order and wait up front for our food before taking a seat at a booth in the back.

"i remember coming here a lot with you and your mom when we were little. you'd always get chicken nuggets and then you'd mix the ketchup and mustard together to dip them in," he smiles a little, "you called it, like, muschup or something stupid like that."

how does he even remember that?

i nod. "yeah, i remember. it was muschup," i return the small smile but i'm still a bit shocked that he remembered at all.

"gross is what it was."

"not as gross as milkduds," i say this to test him, to see if he remembers that too. does he remember everything?

"they are not. at least they dont taste like cardboard," he laughs quietly.

he does.

we talk more inbetween bites of food. i even get tyler to try dipping one of his fries in both ketchup and mustard.

"still gross," he takes a sip of his coke and then stands up, taking our trash to throw away. he comes back and holds up his keys as a gesture to leave. "ready to go?"

he drives us home, the radio playing greenday at a lower volume this time.

when he pulls into his driveway, we both get out of his car and then just... stand there.

"do you, um... do you think i could come over? it's okay if you dont want me to," he asks, shifting on his feet again. i don't know why he's so anxious around me. we've known each other forever.

"yeah, of course, man," i sling my backpack over my shoulder and we walk across the yard to my house.

as soon as the door closes, my mom steps out of the kitchen to greet us at the door.

"oh! hello, tyler! how are you boys? can i get you a snack?" she smiles warmly at us both.

"no thank you, miss laura. we ate on our way home," tyler tells her.

i don't know what brought on the change of tune from the dinner we had to today, but since we're going to be pressured into hanging out all the time, i won't complain.

we head back to my room and tyler sits on my bed again. this time, i sit next to him.

"so... it's summer," he starts.

"yeah, finally."

"do you guys have anything planned?" he questions, staring up at my ceiling.

"i don't think so. what about you guys?" i counter. i want to turn and look at him, but that'd definitely be weird.

"nah. my mom is... kinda devastated. i mean, i get it, they were married for a long time. i'm sure it's harder for her than me. i think her only plans for the summer are to cry to your mom," he laughs a little, but there's no humor behind it.

"i'm sorry," is all i can think to say.

"nah, don't be."

"so, has he, like... moved out yet?" i don't know if i'm allowed to ask that. does he want to talk about it? are the details of this a boundary i shouldn't cross?

"not quite. almost."

"well-"

"just so you know, i'm not here because my mom is making me or anything," he interrupts, finally turning to look at me. "i know my mom said i should and that your mom probably asked you to hang out with me too, but no one is forcing me to be here. i don't want you to think that."

"oh. okay," i offer him a small smile, unsure of what else to say.

"i understand if you don't want to hang out, if you were doing it just because she asked you to. i wouldn't be mad. i was just saying."

"no, not at all. i hate the bus anyway. you saved me a trip in a giant yellow shoebox of sweat smell."

"that bad, huh?" he smiles at me, small and hopeful.

no, but i knew it would make him feel a little better.

"definitely."

(an: so it begins)