Chapter 2:

Day Trip with The Boys II

Road Trip with The Boys


Mustering all my energy, I tossed my backpack into the backseat and hopped into the passenger side of the vehicle. It was a rusty, old-looking pickup—dented to the point where I wouldn’t buy it, but not to the point where I wouldn’t trust it.

“This is gonna be the first of a lot of adventures with this guy,” Prius said fondly.

He turned the ignition, and our truck gave an ear-wrenching roar as it revved to life.

The car’s display said 8:05AM. This was the earliest I’ve used any kind of psychomotor skills on a weekend.

“Ready to go?” Prius asked.

“Yup.”

“What music do you want?” he asked.

“I made a roadtrip playlist last night. Do you mind if I use the aux?”

“Sounds gucci.”

Music boomed through the speakers, and an unexplainable sense of elation rose in the air as we rolled onto the road. Rumbling through the city in our refurbished truck, we watched as the scenery changed from houses, to highway, to boundless green farmland.

Now who were these two boys, you might ask?

No need to ask—it was me and my bro.

“How’d you have time to make a roadtrip playlist? We got home pretty late last night.”

“I… couldn’t sleep.”

“Look Via! Cows on the left!”

“Ohhh! That’s where the smell’s from. They look huge.”

“We’re so pathetic,” Prius laughed. “Getting excited over seeing farm animals.”

“Can’t help it, I don’t travel at all. Do you?”

“I went on a couple trips with the team. Nothing this far out of the city, though.”

“Why are we going this far anyways?”

He smiled.

“It feels like an adventure! Doesn’t it feel independent? To go somewhere so far without any adults.”

I feel you bro.

“We’re technically adults already though.”

“Yeah, but it won’t feel like it until we’re out of high school.”

“Does graduating really make us adults?”
“We’ll be busier.”

“Busier…”

The word would burst any student’s bubble. At the very least, it certainly bursts mine. If I didn’t enjoy my late teens, how would I enjoy it when life gets busier and my youth has passed? Such thoughts ran through my mind.

“You know Prius, they said that high school would be the best years of my life; I was told that when I grow up, I’ll never have as many friends as I did in high school. Do you think that’s true for you?”

“I think so. We’ll have to start paying things like rent and taxes on top of work eventually. Responsibilities only stockpile. What about you?”

“I hope it’s not true. High school wasn’t especially fun and I didn’t have many close friends either, so I can’t imagine life getting any worse.”

“You had trouble making friends?”

“Well, I did make friends. But they often talked behind each other’s backs. I’m sure that they would do the same behind mine. Everything felt so shallow compared to…”

“Compared to what?”

“Compared to our old group. Our boys.”

“And Coco.”

“Yeah, our squad. I distanced myself because I couldn’t find anyone like you guys. The friends I made didn’t feel real.”

We were already far from civilization, driving through vast green and gold plains in a fenced-off road.

Through the barbed wire, I noticed a tiny train in a faraway forest slowly chug along. It appeared to become faster and faster as our highway gradually converged with the railroad. As we came to a stop at the railway crossing, Prius stretched.

“You know, I miss the old days too,” Prius said. “But I don’t really understand what you mean. I spent all my life playing with you guys, and when we separated, I played with others instead. It felt different, but it wasn’t any worse. I had a blast.”

“…”

“Missing the past doesn’t justify how you stopped putting effort into your relationships.”

“I still made friends,” I replied. “But it’s not worth staying with people I don’t like when I’ve had friends like you. Social circles in high school are kind of ruthless. We weren’t like that.”

“Well, you can’t replace the time we spent growing up together. But if you spent these three years getting to know people, some of them might have grown into friendships like ours.”

“Is that how it was for you?”

“I had my basketball team. I’m sure you had similar opportunities.”

He’s probably right.

The realization that Prius had colourful high school days didn’t make me feel any better. It felt like he was hanging out with me out of pity.

Were the other two the same as him? Maybe I was the only one who had a hard time. Maybe they wouldn’t want to get hang out again. I didn’t want to think about it.

“What’s done is done. It’s my own fault for not moving on.”

“You’re talking like it was a bad breakup.”

“It felt worse than that.”

“Ooh Via, did you date anyone in high school?”

“Kind of. Did you?”

“Hehe. I’ll show you a pic of my girlfriend later.”

We shoved the heavy topic in the fridge for another day and kept driving towards the patiently waiting waterfall.

The pavement twisted and turned into a trancelike pattern as we chatted up about mundane things. Tall grass gradually grew into towering pine trees as the highways devolved into a rocky gravel road.

Prius rolled down our windows to reveal a distant roaring. Our anticipation mixed in with the earthy air.

We pulled up to a vacant spot of dirt next to a few other cars, thus I asked the age-old parking question:

“Is this legal?”

“If I parked illegally, that means everyone else did too,” Prius answered.

The truck came to a rest as Prius unplugged the keys. He flashed a grin.

“They can’t tow us all.”

o

A crying stone cliff peered out as I carried two folding chairs through the dirt and trees to the edge of the waters. Mist from the waterfall desperately tried to reach me, before nosediving into the small lake like microscopic paper airplanes that fell short of their trajectory.

Could this even be called a lake? It was an active pool of water that constantly fed into a nearby river. Maybe this “lake” was also part of the river.

I hastily set up the chairs that occupied both my arms and snapped a picture on my phone. Maybe if I posted something on social media, Coco and Ravi would reach out.

“Hey Via, can you record me?”

“Doing what?”

I whipped around to see him lugging a big black case.

“Is that a guitar?”

“Yeah, I want to record me playing different songs in scenic places.”

“Do you want me to use my phone?”

“Here, use mine. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Three… two… one…”

I hit the record button and gave him a thumbs up.

"I wish I picked a better angle."

Was what I thought when he started playing. The quality of his music deserved better camerawork than mine.

A melody emanated through the atmosphere like water droplets reverberating in a cavern. I recognized the song as the first one I learned to play on piano: River Flows in You.

My feet tapped and his thumb slapped in sync to the beat. I heard naught but the waterfall’s chorus and the guitar’s steel strings singing its crisp, woody timbre. Following the final decrescendo, he flourished the neck of his instrument on the finishing chord and smiled at the camera.

“…damn.”

I was at a loss for words.

“What’d you think?” Prius asked as I handed his phone back.

“I didn’t know you played guitar that well,” I said.

“I’ve learned a thing or two since high school started. Do you play anything?”

“I played piano in a band for our 10th grade talent show.”

“We should make a band,” he joked. “Ravi took drum lessons this year.”

“How do you know?”

“I texted him last night.”

“…”

He’s leagues ahead of me.

I am but a walking shadow; a poor texter that overthinks and frets his hour upon the phone, and then is heard no more. My text – it is a message withheld by an idiot, full of fear and insecurity, signifying nothing.

I mulled over my social failures as a friend, while we attempted to skip stones across the river.

“You don’t know how much trouble I had trying to text them last night.”

“Why? Just shoot them a text. It’s not that hard…”

“It’s not that easy…”

“You too think too much.”

“You don’t think enough.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About what?”

He smiled.

“How the truck feels so empty with just the two of us.”

o

“See ya,” Prius shouted from the truck window. “And don’t forget to make the group chat!”

The orange sun cast a long shadow across the street as he pulled out of my driveway.

It was hard to believe that just this morning, I was dragging myself out of bed and into his car. Our day trip felt like it had reset—we were back where we began, and nothing about us had changed except for the waning memories we shared.

“See ya. Text me when you get home!” I shouted back, not knowing if he heard me.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Three heavy steps into my house, before I collapsed on the hardwood floor.

“I’m home!” I shouted.

“Dinner’s in the fridge!” My mom replied. She poked her towel-wrapped head into the hallway. “How was your trip?”

“It was nice hanging out with Prius again.”

“That’s great. Well, don’t sleep too late like yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved her off and stretched on the floor before lazily picking myself up.

There was still one more task to be done today:

The group chat.

Thankfully, I was too tired to overthink things this time. Invites were sent, and anything else could be worried about in the morning.

Blip.

Someone responded already? Prius was driving, so it had to be one of the other two. I re-opened the app to see who joined the group.

Ravi: Yoo what’s up?

Via: Hey. We went on a trip today

Ravi: Ya i heard! u wanna go fishing next week?

Ravi: I already asked my parents

Via: I don’t have any gear

Ravi: I have spare rods and stuff

Via: Sure, I’m down

Ah. Just like that, we had a conversation. It made me feel silly for toiling over all those unsent texts. My phone buzzed again.

Prius has joined the chat.

Prius: I’m home!

Ravi: Fishing next saturday?

Prius: Yea!

Via: Can someone text Coco?

Ravi: I’ll do it!

Seeing our group chat bloom warmed my heart. My body was fatigued but my mind was exhilarated at the same time—I was hopeful that the end of today’s long trip signified the start of our adventures as a group.

Blip.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the last notification on my screen.

The group name has been changed to “Me and the Boys.”

Verson
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Arrhythmia
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