When I Leave

The Definition of Being Young

Chapter Twelve

The Definition of Being Young

 Isis was mainly angry because she normally went to the Rickety Bridge on Monday’s. Instead she was stuck cleaning. I hadn’t even thought about that, but the next day as I walked to school, I saw her walking the opposite way, into the woods.

A pang of guilt gripped my stomach, and yet again while trapped in my brain, I bumped into Fergus. He just smiled and started to walk along side me to school.

He started to hum a song I knew was from his favourite band, and I just focused on inhaling and exhaling as we walked around puddles and kicked stones, slowly making our way to the classroom.

“Did you think I was going to stop talking to ya?” Fergus asked.

I ran my fingers along a damp lilac bush. “We said we’d be friends.” I answered.

“Yeah,” He said. “Life’s too shor’ to be tiptoeing around people, anyway.”

Was that the definition of our youth? That life is short? I always thought teenagers were supposed to be in a hurry to grow up, followed later by regret and the whole ‘life’s too short speech’ that their children in turn wouldn’t listen to.

But I suppose Fergus, and me, and most of the other kids in that town had already been forced to grow up. Maybe this was them slowing down. I smiled as I thought of it. We were having mid-life crises at 16. “We are just kids.” I said, as if realizing it for the first time.

“Yes.” Fergus said definitively, stopping. “And you know what kids do?”

I stopped and turned to look at him, “What?”

He winked, looked around to see that everyone else had made it inside. Then he leaned in closer. My heart started beating really fast and I was scared this was his queue to kiss me again- and it would be easy because I was yet again paralyzed.

Then he said. “Stupid stuff.”

I smiled and he smiled back. “Fancy a walk into the Village?” He asked.

“I do indeed.” I replied, and we turned our backs on the school and started down the hill into the village. He pulled some change out of his pocket. “Let’s get some gourmet eats, shall we?” He said, counting his change. I had a hot feeling in my cheeks and realized I must have been beaming at him, and corrected myself. FRIENDS.

He opened the door to the Safeway’s for me and I walked in. He went straight to the chocolate aisle and picked out a Milky Way bar, counted his change again, and looked back at me. “You can have anything to your heart’s content,” He said, “Under four pounds.”

 A small fact about me:

I’ve never really been a fan of chocolate.

 Fergus, upon hearing that news, said, “I canno’ believe I kissed a woman that doesn’ like chocolate.” I smiled and shrugged. I walked up and down the aisle, not seeing anything to my fancy. I turned the corner to see myself in the cold aisle. My eyes locked on a small two pack of Scotch eggs, which happened to be my very favourite. I hadn’t had them for years. Fergus rounded the corner and saw what I was looking at. He moaned. “You never fail to disappoint.” He sighed as he grabbed the container. I laughed out loud.  We walked to the cashier, where Fergus turned to me and said, “Are you sure? I won’ kiss you, you don’ have to take precautions in the form of Scotch eggs.”

“I’m not, I just really love them.” I assured.

We walked out of the shop and sat on a wooden bench outside.