Tightrope

In a Non-Sexual Way

By the time the rest of the group rejoined us, I was contemplating 25 years to life, and Jace was whacking me periodically with a magazine, for no reason other than the fact it was annoying. I had almost decided the time inside was worth it to wipe the irritating grin off his smug face when I heard a familiar voice calling out to us. 

Daria and Alex found us first, as they were perpetually ten steps in front of the rest of the group, excitement making them move quicker than everyone else. Their hair was windswept and their eyes were bright. Stupid broken leg.

"You alive, Jay?" Daria asked. She ran her eyes over her friend, up and down, as if searching for a fatal wound she was sure I had inflicted upon him. It was as if my friends had no faith in me.

"For now," Jace replied, and bopped me on the head with the rolled-up magazine.

I snatched it from his hand and knocked him upside the head as hard as I possibly could. Given my weapon of choice was paper, it was not exactly a violent demonstration of my anger. "For the next thirty seconds, max. I would recommend calling your loved ones."

He looked up at Daria. "Goodbye, loved one."

I might hate Hartley—okay, I definitely hate Hartley—but his friendship with Daria was the cutest thing ever. I admired the loyalty between them, the genuine affection and sweet phrases that they shared, born simply of a long-standing platonic bond between them. 

Daria looked very touched. "Aw, goodbye. Lena, please be merciful."

I shrugged. "Personally, I was thinking more Russian revolution torture methods. I'm talking sawing off limbs with blunt saws. I'm talking a stomach gnawed through by rats. I'm talking burying half his body and running him over with the cavalry."

"You pay attention in History?" asked Alex, perplexed.

"Yes, Alex," I replied patiently. Alex was not known for being a particularly diligent student, but he was surprisingly smart. He could probably kick our asses when it came to tests, if he deigned to write down answers instead of hairy dicks. "I also occasionally use the history notes you obscured with a giant penis picture yesterday. I meant to talk to you about that. Would you mind, like, not doing that again?"

"I thought it was scrap paper!'

The others finally came into view, Chance nudging Cady forward, encouraging her with words and light shoves to speed up. Kaelin was unceremoniously pulling Jonah by the ankle as he hopped along behind her.

Jonah was too focused on not tripping to look up. "Which one of them came out victorious in the vicious battle to the death? I bet it was Lena. She'd kick his ass. Hartley's got guns, but they're all show. Vanity muscles. He's a wuss."

"Thanks, Jonah," Hartley muttered. "I prefer to think of them as symbols of my virility and manliness."

Kaelin gave Jonah a brief reprieve from hopping to turn her gaze towards us. "Huh, they're both alive. But Lena has disarmed Hartley and is holding a fearsome weapon, so I suppose she wins by, like, duelling rules." Then she continued her campaign forward.

"Vanity muscles," Jonah confirmed, a second before he fell on his ass in the middle of the path. Passersby were severely unimpressed by the teenager taking a nap completely in the way of everyone else. I, personally, was extremely embarrassed for him. Jonah didn't seem to have the energy to care.

Cady grinned. "We leave no man behind!" she announced, and gently dropped onto her butt as well.

This was slightly less embarrassing given she was on the grassy area reserved for sitting and picnics, and wasn't directly in the way of foot traffic.