Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Rickety skateboard paths intertwine as we near the bottom of the hill. In one fluid motion, he jumps off and kicks his skateboard into his hands. Both exuding confidence and reeking of coolness. In a less than graceful action, my feet find traction with the pavement and the board skids to a halt. He gives me the once over and gives an exaggerated sigh, “If you would only let me teach you, you wouldn’t have to look so tragic.”I look up through matted, wind tangled hair and with dry humour reply “I am perfectly happy rolling down this hill on my ass, this is about the most coordinated you’ll ever see me.” His elongated, almost skeletal hands shake as he searches his back pockets for his deck. Once successful in finding it, he throws it at the back of my head. “Happy Birthday Princess”, he smiles. I frown at the box, “It’s basketball season but thanks anyway” and then I throw it equally as hard back at him.

It started with flour and sugar, and a ridiculous amount of chocolate chips; with bread and butter and multicoloured sprinkles. We gazed back at the monstrous mess with wide eyes and flour covered noses. Silently, I slid my fingers into the container of flour and anointed my cheeks with war paint style features. I hollered a mighty warrior cry. As I readied myself to pounce, he turned around and hissed. My face lit up with laughter, for he was equally adorned with butter. He looked at me with a knowing smile and reached over to the speaker on the other side of the kitchen bench. I already know what song will be chosen, its’ the same one that’s followed us through many years of friendship. And so we dance; outlandish, crazy dance moves. And we sing; terribly and out of tune. But we don’t notice. The top of the kitchen table beckons and becomes our new stage. Air guitar solos are performed much to the delight of our audience of pots and pans. The song begins to fade out and we take our bows. “Thank you New York, you’ve been an awesome audience!” he screams.

“Let’s do something wild and crazy”, I utter. “Something mad and awesome”, he calls back over his shoulder. “Something ridiculous and extreme”, I say as a raindrop hits my forehead. I take my finger and trace the droplet around my eyes; my very own pair of water glasses. Another bursting bead of water hits my nose. And then another. The droplets get larger and more frequent; drumming away in rhythm on my bare skin. I crane my neck over to see his face; his mouth open and tongue out, collecting a small puddle on its surface. Through closed eyes he inquires, “Gumboots?” I grin, “My thoughts exactly my good sir”, and I haul myself of the sodden pavement. Jumping puddles, we realise makes the time pass quickly. I let out involuntary squeals of delight as the icy cold liquid coats my legs in goose bumps and soaks into my boots. He beckons me over to show me some apparent new discovery he has made. My curiosity is rewarded with a spray of muddy water to my entire body. “You are so dead”, I scream. He raises an eyebrow, “Oh I’m sure I am but I guess you’ll have to catch me first.” And with that he turns and bolts down the street.

I let my feet dangle down as I swung back and forth; dragging combat boots along the asphalt beneath. He looks to the sky. So I look to the sky. Still swinging, my eyes begin to blur. I glimpse a blue cloudless euphoria and I feel at peace. My eyelids are heavy but my chair tilts and I feel the jolt of reality again. I look at him. But there’s something wrong. My vision of blue is stained with red. It does not create purple. It just trickles down the side of his neck. He raises his hand and shakily presses two fingers to his ear. My eyes watch intently with horror but his are closed. He mouths the words “help me” before crumpling from the swing. And I cry in pain as I try to hoist his broken body off the dirt. Crimson ribbons run red through my hands but I dissociate myself from the warmth of the liquid. His eyes flicker and I see terror and then nothing. I wake up screaming.

oh how i hate you. but it seems that some sick twisted part of me still wants you as a friend. just so i can skateboard and smoke and cook whilst smiling again.


  1. you'd be surprised radelaide, you never know who may just click onto your blog.

  2. Nice post! Love your writing! Congratulation for your blog, it's amazing!