Don't Fear The Reaper

{xi. something that i can't reach}

❝To love another person is to see the face of god.❞

-Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

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Memories have a way of sticking with you in a strange way that nothing else can. Algebra formulas, the order of mitosis, your grocery list... those can all escape you in time, even when you need them most. But life memories are the glue of all remembrance; they stick to your bones like a fly to a trap, for better or for worse, always there to recall even if you don't want to remember.

These mental double-bladed swords are especially bad when you go back to where they happened. If you ever find yourself in front of a grave for your dead boyfriend, be aware that it won't take that much time before you're caught up in past springtimes...

It was April 2nd, 2009, and my 4th grade was on the way to our annual field trip. The year before, we had learned how to snowboard; that year, the ocean of funds had receded and our destination ended up being the New England Maple Museum in Pittsford, Vermont, which was really just a giant gift shop full of every maple commodity you could dream up.

I was sitting alone, my friends spread out around me. We had planned to divide evenly - Will and Trevor, Veronica and I, and Macy and one of her cheer friends. But when Macy's friend had gone home sick at the last minute, I found my partner leaving me for her.

I knew the guys were sitting in front of me, but I didn't want to be a bother. So I just sat there and traced the lines in the seat back with my eyes, though it was hard to concentrate with the Black-Eyed Peas playing loudly on the bus radio in the background.

Suddenly, a head popped up above the seat, one with bright hazel eyes and messy brown hair. It was Will, grinning boldly. Both of his top canine teeth were missing, courtesy of us being 9 and young and growing children.

"Lila, there you are! I've been looking around the bus everywhere for you." He cocked his head. "Whatcha listening to?"

Without taking my earbuds out, I lifted up my blue iPod Nano and showed him the smiling face of Miley Cyrus on the cover of the OST for Hannah Montana: The Movie.

Will made a face, and said, "No offense, Lila, but Hoedown Throwdown is way better than The Climb."

I stuck out my tongue at him and was about to retort a reply when the bus driver yelled from the front, "Nyquist, take a seat!"

Momentarily, Will glanced at Trevor, then scrambled out of his seat to land beside me. As he did, my song came to an end and the naive guitar of Taylor Swift's Crazier came on, but I quickly paused it in order to talk to my friend.

"I thought you said you were sitting with V?" he asked, nodding to the girls, who had ended up 5 rows ahead.

"Macy's partner went home. Veronica went to go sit with her."

"You should've told me!" he exclaimed. "I would've left Trevor for you. He's just studying for the gym test coming up, anyway."

"Oh. Okay."

I tugged out my old white earbuds and stuffed them, along with my iPod, in my paper lunch bag. Technically, we weren't allowed to bring electronics with us on the field trip, but the teachers were having too much trouble attempting to prevent Pokemon battles in the aisle to notice my quiet listening to music.

Will shifted so he was facing me, his legs crossed underneath him. He smelled like fresh linen and maple syrup and pine needles, like the soul of Ashdown itself had poured into him. This close, I could see the way his hair curled up at the end in the early spring humidity.