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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #1233720
A tale about friendship, coming of age and coming to terms.
         

         This has been the best summer in the ten years of your life.  You are old enough for your parents to let you go out cavorting with your friends, but you’re not old enough to be burdened with Responsibilities. You don’t have a summer job like the older kids — you don’t have a care in the world.
         However, you have a bad feeling about this;  a sort of warm, knotty feeling in the pit of your stomach.  You tried to persuade Casey, Nick and Josh to stay at your house and just play Nintendo, but they wouldn’t hear of it.  They wanted to climb the Wall.  Why?  Just to prove that they were brave enough?  You don’t feel the need to prove anything, but they are your best friends.  Of course you’ll go with them.  So, here you are, trudging along the path through the woods.
         “Well, we’re here,” Nick says with an anxious smile.  His freckles always seem to get brighter whenever he gets excited.
         The woods behind your house open into a meadow where there is a large, steep rock face.  You’ve been told that the Wall is about a hundred feet or so high, but right now it seems to extend miles into the air, scraping the fluffy, white clouds that drift so lazily in summer.
         Josh is the first to grab hold of the first crevice in the Wall, his curly mop of hair bouncing with excitement.  Josh always has to be first in everything.
          “Last one up is a rotten egg!”
         “Wait up,” you say, butterflies churning in your stomach.  “What if the rocks are slippery? It rained a little while ago, you know.”
         Josh and Nick both give you a condescending look, and disregard your concerns.  They are both on the Wall now, looking intently for the next crevice in which to wedge their eager fingers.
         “Don’t worry about it,” Casey reassures you.  “I’ll go up behind you.  I promise I won’t let you fall.” Casey always has that way with you.  You often sense a patronizing sarcasm in his tone, but somehow you also know he’s telling the truth.
         You suck in a deep breath.
         You slowly place a foot between two rocks, then grab hold of a small outcropping on the Wall and hoist yourself up. With each passing inch you gain more confidence.  With Casey behind you offering words of encouragement, your limbs fall into a rhythm, moving you up the Wall with surprising agility.  Everything is perfect.
         You hear a scream from below.
         Your head snaps downward to the direction of the scream.  You see Casey below you, struggling to keep hold of the rock wall.  You look up, and Josh and Nick have already reached the top.  They are staring over the edge of the cliff intently, trying to make sense of what is going on.  You are only about halfway up.
         “Please, help me,” Casey pleads.  “I’m losing my grip!”
         You say nothing.  You can only stare.
         “You have to help him!  We’re too far up!” Josh and Nick yell at you.
         You see Casey slipping.  You look into his eyes and see his terror.  You look at the ground.  You are so far up, you are so scared.  You cannot move, you cannot scream.
         “Please…” Casey whimpers. You want to scramble down and grab hold of him and never let go.  You can’t.  You’re rooted in place, a part of the rock.
         You grow old in the second that Casey loses his grip.  He falls ungracefully, so unlike him, his eyes still gazing into yours, begging for your help.  Your mouth opens to scream, but you hear nothing come out. 
         You see him lying on the rocks below, and your heart breaks a thousand times.


* * * * * *

         You just graduated from high school a few weeks ago.  All of your family and friends were so happy when they congratulated you for what you had accomplished.  However, you can’t bring yourself to feel proud like you know you should.  Anyhow, everyone else graduates from high school. Who honestly gives a shit?
         All of these years they have told you it wasn’t your fault, but you still blame yourself.
         You are on the way home from the movie theater in Nick’s beat-up station wagon.  Nick and Josh are sitting in the front as usual, with you in the back by yourself.  The seat next to you is empty, like it always is.
         The three of you have gone to the movies on the other side of town hundreds of times.  However, tonight you had just wanted to stay home.  Like always, Nick and Josh had persuaded you to go.  You couldn’t just stay home alone.  After all, they are your best friends.
         The station wagon speeds down the long, dirt road to your house.  A little too fast, you worry to yourself, your stomach clenching up.
         “Hey, asshole, you want to slow it down a little?” you snarl at Nick.  “I’ve seen a few deer on this road.  I wouldn’t want you to damage your luxury automobile.”
         Nick and Josh both turn to give you the glare that always puts you in your place.  The car is now crossing the bridge on your road. 
          You see the headlights fall across a large buck standing in the road and hear Josh scream, “Dude, watch out!”
         You see the buck glance up — casually — and its feeble brain barely seems to register the oncoming metal monster that would tear its flesh from bone in the blink of an eye.
         Your heart skips a beat. Shit.
         Nick cuts the wheel hard and the car swerves abruptly to the side.  You hear the crunch and grind of steel as the station wagon rips through the metal guardrail of the bridge.  The car is slammed to a halt, and your head forcefully hits the seat in front of you.
         You are dazed momentarily, but you quickly regain your senses.  You realize that the station wagon is teetering on the edge of the bridge.  You look out the windshield and see only the black, swirling water below.
         You look behind you and realize that the hatch door has somehow been forced open. Maybe with the impact.  You yell to Nick and Josh to get out, and then proceed to unbuckle your seat belt and scramble out the hatch onto the safety of the bridge.
         Josh feebly regains his composure and slowly pulls himself out of the front seat. He creeps toward the back of the station wagon on his hands and knees.  You grab his hand and hoist him out of the car, which is groaning and creaking, inching closer and closer to the certain death of the river.
         Josh is bleeding badly from a head wound and seems disoriented.  He cannot maintain his balance, and he slumps to the ground.  “Nick,” you hear him mumble, and your thoughts are directed to your friend who is still in the station wagon.
         You peer over the edge into the car.  Nick is still in the driver’s seat, slumped over the steering wheel and unmoving.  You know that any second the car will tumble into the swirling water below.  Josh is lying on the ground unconscious, his shirt soaked with blood.  You know that you are Nick’s only hope.
         You cannot move.  You are rooted to the bridge, frozen with fear.
         Your thoughts are forced back to that day you have tried to forget a thousand times.  You see Casey staring up at you, crying out for your help.  You are the only one who can come to his rescue.  You want to save him, more than anything else in the world.  You would give your life to save him, but you can’t move.  You are too afraid.  Once again, you see Casey lose his grip on the rock wall, and fall towards the earth. Eight years of anguish wash over you all at once, and you are almost driven to your knees. 
          Then you see Casey’s face again, this time his sparkling eyes giving you strength and determination. Don’t worry, his voice rings inside your head. I’ll be behind you. I won’t let you fall.
         No, you think. No, I will fall. I deserve it, after all. Once again, your help is needed. And once more, you’re too scared — too goddamn scared — to even move.
         Do it, you hear, but you’re not sure who’s voicing those foreign words in your mind. Is it your conscience? Or Casey, from beyond the grave? Reality and imagination twist and blur in your mind.
         Maybe it doesn’t matter. You cannot let this happen again.  You cannot lose another friend. This is no way to live.
         You grit your teeth, knowing there is no turning back.  You climb carefully into the station wagon the way you came out; it seems like it’s taking a year.  The car creaks under your weight and shifts slightly downwards.  You do your best to ignore the sounds of scraping metal and crawl like a commando under barbed wire towards the front of the vehicle. 
         Nick is slumped over the steering wheel.  You are relieved to hear him breathing raspily.  He is still buckled into his seat, and the car creaks forward again.  You manage to unbuckle Nick, and begin to hoist him out of his seat.  You have never had to struggle so hard in your life.
         You remember Casey, and pull with all your might.
         You inch closer and closer to the rear of the car.  It seems like you’re not making any progress, but you won’t give up.  You can’t.  Not now.
         Finally, you’ve reached the hatch door.  You pull yourself out of the station wagon, and then hoist Nick onto the bridge behind you.  Just as you pluck your friend to safety, the car creaks one last time and plunges over the bridge.  You watch it fall, so ungracefully, and then it splashes into the river with a deafening crack.
         You stumble to the ground next to your friends, exhausted not just from the rescue, but also from the eight years of despising yourself for not saving your friend when you were his only hope.
         But this time was different.
         Tears streak down the side of your face.  Your insides have been wracked in pain from the loss of Casey, but through him you have found the strength to not let a friend die again.  Instead of seeing the terror on Casey’s face so many years ago, you see him now with a smile.
         Your heart skips a beat. Life starts now.
© Copyright 2007 Nathan Webster (nate_web at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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