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Would You Rather
James and I lay in his enormous backyard watching planes glide across the black sky. The night is warm. Every night on the weekend, I’d drive over to his house and we would talk the night away about anything and everything.
James is my best friend. We’ve known each other ever since our freshman year. This year, we’re going to graduate from Ryder High School.
“So, you still plan on going to the Academy of Art University in Cali?” James asks me.
“Most definitely. Once I learn more about photography, it’ll help me with my modeling career.” I say. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m still deciding. It all depends.” He rests his blond shaved head behind his hands.
“Oh, okay.” The thing I’m definitely looking forward to is getting to be on my own without much help of my parents. We go on about our future plans for another ten minutes. Then it goes quiet.
“Let’s play Would You Rather.” I suggest.
“Aw man, Elizabeth! I haven’t played that since freshman year with you! Okay, you start.” James says.
“Um, would you rather…eat 5 Big Macs in a row or eat nothing for 5 days?” I prop myself up on my elbow and face him.
“Psh, us guys need our grub! 5 Big Macs definitely.” He declares. I laugh. “Would you rather sing a soprano in a library or be completely mute for 2 whole weeks.” He knows I couldn’t stop talking for more than twenty minutes at a time, so I say, “Sing soprano.”
“Would you rather go to Death Valley for 2 minutes or Antarctica for 2 minutes?” James totally cannot stand the cold. That’s why we live here in Arizona.
“Could I bring water?”
“Well… it wasn’t stated in the question!” I have trouble thinking of a reason.
“Ha-ha. Okay, fine. Death Valley.” He says. I knew it.
“Would you rather fly that airplane,” he points to the sky. “all the way across the country or run all the way?”
I’m afraid of heights. I wouldn’t even ride on a plane, much less fly one.
“Run all the way, without a doubt.” I’m feeling sick just thinking about the plane. James wipes the beading sweat off of my forehead. He’s always there for me. I thank him and use an elastic on my wrist to tie up my blond hair.
“No prob.” He flashes a sincere white smile.
“Uh…I can’t think of another question to ask you.” I chuckle. James gets up and stretches his arms, yawning in the process. I get up and brush the grass off of my shorts. His watch reads 1:00 a.m.
“Oh! I got one.” He exclaims. “Would you rather go to The Academy of Art University right after graduation,” he gets down on one knee. “or, marry me first?” James pulls a ring out of his pocket of his khaki shorts.