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Lying in the grass in the backyard, watching ants file by in a uniform, unbroken line. It was the first day of summer, and the young blonde boy had just graduated from kindergarten. His older brother was racing around the neighborhood on his bike, but Rhett didn’t feel like joining in today. Instead, he lay on his stomach, inspecting the small anthill tucked away between blades of bright green. While the six year old didn’t have the vocabulary to describe what he was feeling, something weighed heavily on his young mind. Rolling over, careful to avoid crushing the nearby anthill, he slung an arm over his eyes to shield them from the blazing summer sun. He took a deep breath and held it - listening to the chirping insects, the softly rustling leaves, the far-off calls and whoops of other neighborhood kids. Rhett lazily plucked a dandelion by the stem, gazing at the delicate puffs of white. Mama had told him long ago that if you made a wish and blew the puffs away, it just might come true. He was older now though, and considered himself too grown-up for that kind of silly thing.
But… Today, maybe, when nobody was around but him, it would be okay. Maybe he could make just one wish. But it was a big one: Rhett wanted a friend. Sure, he had friends from school and from the block, but they weren’t real friends. He wanted someone he could trust. Someone he could share everything with, even weird things; someone who’d be just as interested in a cool frog he’d caught as listening to him spill all his six-year old secrets. Rhett grasped the dandelion in both hands, eyes shut tight. He focused hard on the friend he wanted to have, and wished with all his might that they would find him. Soon, if it wasn’t too much trouble. But he could wait… for a while. He opened his eyes and blew, transfixed, as the tiny white puffs were caught by the breeze and carried away into the sunlight.
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The summer passed as most summers do. A blur of sunshine, melting ice cream, scuffed knees, and dips into the cool, clear creek. In the fall, Mama Di was so excited to see Rhett off to his first day of first grade that he was a little embarrassed. She tutted and fussed, adjusting his shirt and rubbing invisible dirt from his nose. Despite her best efforts, by the time Rhett appeared in Mrs. Locklear’s classroom, the kid was a mess. Even with the mere five minutes between leaving the relative cleanliness of the bus (despite mysterious sticky spots on the floor and a stench that seemed to permeate even the metal) and entering the spotless school doors, he was covered in dirt and grass stains. Roughhousing was Rhett’s speciality, after all.
The first day of school turned out to be boring. The teacher had made everyone go around and introduce themselves, and now they were supposed to be working on some stupid craft. Rhett scowled as he stared down at his desk. He was bored, this was dumb. Wasn’t first grade supposed to be a big deal? Shouldn’t it be more exciting than this? Rhett dug into his backpack to grab a pencil. He chewed on the eraser - it tasted gross and chalky. Mrs. Locklear droned on as he stared at the pencil in his hands, pulling tentatively on the eraser. It was loose and slick with spit. It was gross, but the harder he tugged, the looser it came. Finally, it popped and rolled off his desk, disappearing into the haze of the linoleum. Rhett tilted his head and experimentally poked the sharp metal edge. Soon enough, it popped back into his mouth as he flattened the metal protrusion into a flat edge. The boy was oblivious as his teacher droned on, and he began to carve his favorite curse word into the compressed wood of his desk. He had only gotten as far as “HEL” before Mrs. Locklear caught on and assigned him detention during recess.
Noon came and went, hot lunches devoured nearly as quickly as they were served. Nearly everyone else made a break for the doors to rush outside for recess. But Mrs. Locklear left him and one other boy in the care of a para who seemed older than the earth itself. She had shuffled to the desk and sat with a plop, producing a battered paperback romance novel and burying her wide nose deep. Rhett puffed out a sigh and stared at the window. Another boy had been kept inside, and they both had been given coloring sheets to complete. The blonde lazily ran a hand over the fresh box of crayons, all twenty four, standing at attention, fresh and untouched. He grabbed one at random, ending up with indigo, and began indignantly scribbling in the outline of a mythical beast. A small boy with dark hair and oversized glasses was perched across the table. He screwed up his face as he colored, clearly doing his best to stay within the lines, even if it was just coloring during detention. They colored in silence for a while, hearing only the deep raspy breaths of the para and the squeaks of wax on paper.
“What did you do?” The brunette finally whispered.
Rhett paused, not looking up from his work. Another minute passed before he responded. He could feel the small boy holding his breath. “I was writing a cuss word on my desk. You?”
“Oh,” the boy laughed faintly. “Me too! I’m Link.” He dropped the crayon and stuck out a hand in greeting.
Rhett finally looked up and surveyed his detention partner. He was small - a little weird looking with his short hair and thick black rimmed glasses - but hell, who cared? It was only the first day. Rhett quickly wiped his palm on his jeans and accepted Link’s shake.
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Years later, Rhett and Link had taken advantage of a long weekend to drive out to a North Carolina coastal town. They were nearly grown now, long having adjusted to lanky limbs, having dealt with cracking voices. The last few hours of the drive had been quiet, a Merle Haggard mix tape playing faintly as Link reached his arm out the passenger side window. He stretched his fingers out, letting cool air rush over his skin, feeling each atom of his body quiver and shake with simply how alive he was. Rhett drove with a smile tempting his lips, eyes focused on the road illuminated by yellowing headlights. He couldn’t help but steal a glance at his best friend every now and then. Rhett had never seen him this relaxed before, this loose and calm. Eventually they rolled into town, but Rhett had one last stop to make before they crashed for the night.
The truck rolled slowly into the parking lot of a local beach. It was empty this time of night and the small city had so few lights that the sky was awash with stars. Rhett woke Link with a gentle shake and exited the cab. Counting each step, he walked reverently from the lot to the sand, eyes focused upwards. A deep, oceanic blue painted the sky, and bright white specks dotted the canvas. Link stretched and closed the truck door with a distant thud. Sleepy feet padded through the sand to meet his friend.
“Look up,” Rhett whispered. So Link did.
The brunette gasped, gazing at the twinkling stars, hearing only the gently breaking waves and his friend's steady breaths. “Wow... It’s beautiful, Rhett.”
A pause as a wave breaks against the shore and a far-off car accelerates. “You are too, Link.” Rhett breathes before turning away. He makes to move back to the truck, back to the relative comfort and safety of the defined - but Link grabs his wrist, pulling him back to the shifting sand. Back into the quiet between two friends who may have just crossed a line only they had cared to define.
“Sit with me,” Link whispered, pulling his friend closer, pulling their bodies together, refusing to let the moment pass. The pair dropped to the sand, hip to hip, arms wrapped around the other. They sat silently, listening to gently breaking waves. “Stay with me.” Rhett squeezed Link's hand as reassurance, as a promise. He would always stay. Always.