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Your Eyes Look Different In This Light This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I remember we were in the car, stomachs full of greasy Chinese food and a little worried about running out of gas. Pearl Jam was still in the tape deck.

"Today was really nice," I said over the music.

"They always are," He smiled, looking away from the road for an instant to take my hand. I stared out the window at the trees blurring past.

"I know. But today it was more than that. We haven't been able to just take off like this for awhile, do whatever we want. I wish we could all the time."

"Someday we'll be able to. But right now, it's just so hard to find the time."

"Oh, I'm sick of time time time. I wish you didn't have to drop me off, that we didn't have to cut off our weird talks on the phone every night because of our deadly fear of the phone bill," I paused, shaping my longing into words. "I wish that someday, instead of going through another pointless school week, that we could just run away, to Boston or London, somewhere away from here. I wish I could walk down Fifth Avenue with you in some Fifth-Avenuey city, I wish we could just BE."

He nodded slowly. There wasn't really anything he could say. It was an interchangeable one-sided conversation we'd had a million times. Too many constraints, never enough time to just loll in each other's presence. The car hit a bump that made the keys jingle. I eyed our speed, wary of a cop passing by.

"I think today was special," he said, flicking the brights to low as we came to an intersection.

"How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, really. I noticed it when we were getting coffee. It was like, it was like something I always hoped we'd do."

I laughed, "We've gotten coffee a million times!"

"I know, I know, it's just that this time, I paid attention. I remember when we first met, it was something I wanted to do with you someday."

I thought about that for awhile, my hands in my coat pockets, absently documenting their contents. The movie stub from the theater we'd just come from. Spare change from coffee, an old Kleenex I'd used to stop the bleeding on a cut he'd gotten trying to show off with a Guinsu knife. The Clifford Ball admissions bracelet I'd hung onto since August, meaning to give it to him as a souvenir because he'd been away. I'd missed him so much during that. "Someday," I remember telling myself. "Someday I'm going to take him to a Phish show." In the other pocket, the ticket stub from that very same day lived comfortably with a few spare pennies and some pocket lint. And then, as we passed the packed parking lot of a restaurant, it hit me.

"I take all of that back," I said. He'd spaced out into his thoughts and looked at me blankly.

"Take what back? The wishes?"

"Yeah," I jingled the stuff in my pockets. "Today, practically every day since I've met you, has been some day I always wanted to have. Why should I waste it wishing for another someday?" He smiled that impish little smile that told me "You just said something that made my world."

He pulled into my driveway, shifted his dad's car into park.

"Someday we won't have to worry about history reports or phone bills," he said as I got out of the car. "I promise you that."

"I'm not even worried about it now," I said, touching his cheek, and shut the door.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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