Forty-Three Degrees

Neither my brother nor I felt much like doing homework. And since my mother was gone to Hong Kong for three weeks, there was no one telling us to hit the books. It was nice to be able to walk home from the bus, drop off our backpacks and go back out into spring. The potholes December had carved out now held dirty puddles to surprise unsuspecting pedestrians.

We took the back path, my brother and I. Away from the cars and spandex-wearing joggers, there was just the two of us with our iPods listening to opposite ends of the music spectrum. Me, I've got my oldies rock, classical three-fours, and a little indie to taste. He has top 100 on iTunes.

I was wearing an old jean jacket I pulled from the back of the closet, collar up and sleeves rolled twice. My hair was tied in a messy knot to keep it out of my eyes. My boots were very muddy. I mouthed the words to the song only I could hear:

"...beautiful song to be sung...she's got blue eyes, deep as the sea...they roll back when they're laughing at me...she rises up like the tide..."

I let my brother walk ahead of me, so he could think he was the sh*t. He only had one of his earbuds in, the other hanging at his side. He wasn't wearing a t-shirt, just a faded red t-shirt, because it "wasn't cold". He bopped his head to whatever music he was listening to. Bad music, no doubt.

We browsed around the stirp mall and bought the junkfood that would sustain us for three weeks. He carried the Target back home, with the loaf of bread sticking out at the top. I carried the gallon of Arizona Sweet Tea.

We dodn't talk much when we're together. Normal stuff, I guess - classes next year, classes this year, classes in the past. I poke fun at his lack of a social life. He tells me my friends are weird. Most of the time, though, we're quiet. We don't have a whole lot to say to each other, we just want a little company sometimes.

The genius decided we'd take the road back home. Halfway home and - apparently I was too slow - he took off at a sprint. So much for company. I was left almost alone and cringed every time a car past me. You know in movies when cars drive past on a wet day and the person on the street gets splashed with mud? It was close.

I hate the feeling of knowing something good is getting to an end. I walked up my driveway and punched the garage code. As the door slid into the ceiling, my mood got flat. Time for calculus review problems, rumblings of the Cold war, and meaningless Chinese characters. Time to get back on the hamster wheel of life.