Rocket Car

Chapter 4

Rocket Car

"Here we are. Sorry it's nothing fancy."

I don't really register what he's saying. I never take in the sight of the house, either. Perhaps I'm too afraid I'll be jealous if his house is nicer than the one I just purchased. The neighborhood alone already seems fancier than mine. At least this one has street lights and a sidewalk. Every house has a porch light on, so the walk was easy enough.

I find myself huddled up close to him as he unlocks the front door. Once it's open he lightly pushes me inside. Instantly I'm overwhelmed with the familiar sanitized scent that I had always associated with anything of his. He was probably the only guy in school with that a locker that smelt like a new car, even on the hottest days. Everything is neatly organized and the air is an amicable temperature.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab us some water," he says with a light pat on my back. I watch as he retreats around the corner and out of view.

How the hell am I supposed to make myself comfortable in this place? Dark hardwood floors rest beneath my feet, light grey walls are decorated with modern art, the TV is larger than the biggest wall in my house, and the furniture is a pure white where even the small amount of dirt would show. For a moment I just stand there, unsure what to do. I eye the thick, white molding on the bottom of the wall, finding the contrast of colors unusual fascinating.

"Are you alright?"

I look up to find a concerned Davis handing me a bottle of water. I accept the offer and never say thank you. Instead, I answer, "Yeah. Just figured with your job you wouldn't make enough for a place this nice." Blunt as always. Hopefully I didn't offend him. Whatever expression he shows I avoid as I unscrew the cap of the bottle and enjoy the refreshing drink.

Surprisingly, he laughs, "True, but I was always better with money than any of you guys."

"Yeah, I guess you were."

That seems to be enough conversation for the time being. Davis motions to the couch (that I swear is worth more than all my belongings combined), and when I hesitate he physically leads me there. I can hear a very faint snicker that threatens to leave his lips; he's enjoying the fact that I'm uncomfortable right now. In our youth, the roles were reversed in most situations.

Being seated makes me relax a little. Maybe the alcohol was still hitting me and sitting down helped get my bearings back. His hand lingers on my back a bit longer than I would prefer but I'm too tired to care. Silence invades again, aside from the light hum of the air conditioner.

"It's been a long time since we've stayed up all night," I observe. I'm staring at the blank TV, remembering the nights when we'd stay up until sunrise watching cartoons and bad monster movies. It seems as though his mind travels to the same era, as from the corner of my eye I can see him turn to the TV, too.

Wordlessly he places his hand back on my back. This time he snakes it around to my shoulder and then pulls me close to him. Normally the move would make my tense but the alcohol keeps me loose. I lean into him. It's nothing new to us; we've cuddle on couches before. Back when we were kids, it was a much more innocent gesture, however. Of course, I'm probably just reading too much into his actions.

I must have tensed up and he must have noticed. Without warning his fingertips brush my sides before a full blown tickle attack is initiated. I'm not ticklish, but the sensation is enough to annoy me. I'm still buzzed enough that I can't stop myself from giggling. The sound only seems to press him to up his energy. I try to free myself from his grip but I only succeed in helping him pin me.

It's pure instinct that has me roll over to get him off. Except we roll off the couch.

I'm not sure exactly what order we land in. I just know that my head hits the ground kind of hard. A loud and shocked, "f**k!" yelps out of Davis's mouth. In an instant I'm sitting up and my eyes are on him. Hearing him curse, no matter the situation, sounds odd to my ears.

It doesn't take long for me to figure out what's happened. He's holding his wrist and it's already swelling. I'm concerned, I swear, yet there's no possible way to stop the laughter that bubbles up. It doesn't take long before a low grumbling from him turns into a laugh attack, too. For what seems like hours we sit on the floor, laughing at ourselves.

June 10th, 1999

The wind was relentless. For a group of kids it felt like a hurricane was blowing through. To make it worse, they were on top of a hill with nothing to protect them. At the bottom rested a dirt road that would take them home after a long day of bike riding. Considering their bikes were just cheap department store contraptions, maneuvering the rocky hills proved to be quite a workout. The hill meant they could coast most of the way back.

Davis said that the hill looks dangerous; of course the other two didn't agree. Jeep was the first one to go. "See ya at the bottom, losers!" he shouted as he kicked off and sped downhill.

Not one to back down from a dare, Kristy went next. She could hear Davis screaming after her about how it wasn't a good idea. She never heard him. Between the high wind speeds and her own speed, nothing could be heard by her. Everything was muffled. Soon she was traveling so fast she couldn't keep her feet on the pedals. There was no way to brake.

The front tire hit something – a coyote den, supposedly – and she was airborne. Over the handlebars of the bike she flew. Earth approached quickly. A fist-sized rock was the first thing to stop her fall; she could feel it scrape just above her lip and push her nose up. Then, nothing.

The next thing she remembered was Davis's bike grinding to a halt next to her. Jeep was already sprinting back up the incline, terrified. Based on the expression Davis held and the disgusting iron taste in her mouth, she was injured.

Davis would later say her entire face was covered in blood. All she remembered was how much having a broken nose sucked.

December 11th, 2003

It's one of those rare snow days. There wasn't all that much on the ground – just a few inches – but it was covered in a thick layer of ice from overnight rains. It wasn't as though they could just go see a movie, since that drive was a solid forty-five minutes when the roads weren't bad. Getting all their TVs to one house for a LAN party was too risky, because no one wanted to slip and break theirs.

Instead, they all compiled on the gravel road outside of Kristy's house. Originally they had planned on a snowball fight but it was impossible with the ice blocking them. It doesn't take long before they find themselves running and sliding on the ice, seeing how far they can go.

Someone found a wakeboard and soon they're using it as a pseudo sled. Davis just stood there, never once sliding and never once riding the wakeboard. They listened to him repeat over and over again how dangerous the entire thing was. Certainly, someone was going to fall down and break their tailbone. He occupied his time playing fetch with Kristy's dog.

Dee was the smallest and lightest of the group. When she got a good start on the wakeboard, she went the farthest, so she was the most cautious. Yet she misjudged the final time. There's no way to stop on ice. There was no time to warn Davis. She collided with him while his attention was elsewhere.

They tell him he must have flown three feet off the ground before his tailbone met the hard ice. He assured them that isn't possible, but he does know that it hurt to sit for the rest of the school year.

July 23rd, 2005

They were bored. Most summer days were divided between shenanigans and farm work. Growing up where there was only one store and no one lived on a paved road meant they had to always search for things to do. No one is really sure who came up with the idea to attach sleds to the back of ATVs. It seemed like a safe idea at the time.

Fortunately, there were plenty of open fields and large lawns for them to tear up so the risk of hitting rocks is nil. They get tired of it quickly, though. There wasn't enough danger. Going around in circles wasn't exciting enough. Whoever brought out the homemade bike ramp certainly wasn't thinking, but obviously no one was since they decided to use it.

Kristy was the first to make the attempt. Jeep was driving the ATV; he revved it up at full speed and aimed for the ramp. Yet he wasn't sure how to make the approach and suddenly veered off course. Unprepared, Kristy had no idea how to react; she was torn between letting go, falling off, and hanging on.

Her arm ended up underneath the sled. She should've let go, but she was determined to correct it. Unfortunately, Jeep was still going at full speed. Her arm continued to twist until it snapped. Somehow, she never let go until the sled hit the ramp just right. The landing wasn't very good.

Davis wasn't there to freak out, so the rest convinced her it wasn't broken. Later, she finds out it was quite broken, and it never did real right.

October 6th, 2006

"Guys, this is a really stupid idea."

"You always say that!"

"Yes, but this time I actually mean it!"

A bonfire never ended as just a bonfire with them. At Jeep's house, especially. Sometime during the night he dug into his stash of bottle rockets and fireworks. Buried deep within the box was a handful of mini depth charges. It didn't take long for him to toss them into half-empty bottles of water and see how far they'd go. Somehow, no one had lost any fingers yet.

It was October baseball season, and since their team wasn't in the postseason (of course), they were yearning for something. No one had their equipment with them. Dee and Michael disappeared into the dark and came back with a fallen tree limb that was just the right size for a bat. Now they just needed a ball.

"Guys, we should play baseball with this and a water bottle. We can stick the depth charges in there and when it shoots up, hit it. It'll be like the pitch," Kristy suggested. It was an incredibly stupid idea, but for teenagers anything with sports and explosives sounds fun.

Since Davis was the least interested, he was the first forced to bat. The entire time he grumbled and mumbled under his breath about how much of an i***t everyone was. He wasn't every sure exactly how the damned things work. It looked like Jeep lit it then just dropped it in the bottle.

The bottle was situated on the dirt just at the edge of the lawn. The cap was off. The moment he lit the explosive, he dropped it in and prepped to hit.

Nothing happened. Maybe he didn't do it right. Curious, he picked the bottle up. All he heard was a loud "crack," followed by a harsh, never yielding, throbbing ache in his hand.

Every time it's brought up, they tell him he's lucky he didn't lose any fingers. Davis disagrees and claims he's still pulling plastic pieces out his fingertips.

June 3rd, 2007

Three days after they've graduated and they were trying to fit all the time together in as they can. Jeep was moving to Seattle for audio production; Kristy was moving to San Francisco for film school; Davis and Lori were counting down the days until they're situated in dorm rooms across the country; Dee was leaving for basic training in just a few weeks.

Somehow, ditch boarding was brought up. It wasn't something they had done themselves, but was one of the many ridiculous sports that Kristy's older brother Bryce and his group of friends had done. The idea was simple: place a wakeboard in an irrigation canal and pull it along using a truck. Try not to hit the rocks. Don't drown.

They borrowed a truck from Davis's dad and he swore he'd end up dead if they didn't return it in one piece. No one listened, of course. It wasn't long until he went into full rant mode about how much of a bad idea this entire thing was.

Jeep won the rock-paper-scissors tournament to go first. Davis and Kristy were both okay with that, as Davis just wanted to drive and Kristy wanted to film from the bed of the truck. The rest of the group joined her, curious to watch Jeep attempt something ridiculous.

"Alright, let's do this!" Jeep shouted from the ditch. He was strapped in and ready.

Davis said nothing; he just sent the most viscous glare he could before taking off. At first, he kept at a fairly safe speed. However the sound of Jeep screaming at him to drive faster managed to make Davis lose his better senses.

The sides of the canal were muddy and the truck never had the best traction. When a sudden hairpin turn arrived, there was no chance for Davis to avoid the old oak tree. The impact was hard enough that one person in the back of the truck ended up through the window. Kristy felt her heart stop as she flew out of the bed of the truck; she missed the canal by inches but her shoulder never was the same after that impact.

Jeep was so distracted by the accident that he made the same mistake. The wakeboard broke upon the bank and he ended up with a mouthful of rocks and mud.

Davis spent his entire time in college paying off that truck. Jeep spent the rest of summer wishing he'd never broken his foot. They all spent the rest of the day in the hospital.