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Ashton

C lothes are strewn across the floor of my bedroom, every inch of carpet covered by tank tops, T-shirts, dresses, skirts, jeans, you name it.

Yet, I still find myself sifting through more clothes in my closet, searching for something to wear for the first day of high school.

As I mouth the words to Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball,” I yank another shirt off the hanger, tossing it behind me.

“Hey!”

I spin, finding Oliver, my best friend, yanking the shirt I just tossed off his head, shaking out his hair.

“Whoops!” I giggle, turning back to my latest obsession.

Oliver Matthews is the scrawny kid down the street.

We’ve been best friends since the first grade, practically inseparable.

There was something about him that drew me in from day one.

We were the complete opposite. He was the quiet wallflower, and I was the busy bee.

I wanted to be friends with everybody, but most of all him.

Maybe it was because I thought I could lift him up and force him out of his shell.

It was a challenge that I was still working on .

From trading favorite songs and cherished books to starring in each other’s social media, we never swayed as friends. Everyone who knew Ash knew Oliver.

As the years crept on, Oliver grew more comfortable with me, but never with anyone else.

I, on the other hand, yearned for recognition.

I loved the people, the attention, the love.

I wanted every bit of it, soaking it in like it was a life source while Oliver quietly followed behind.

From time to time, I would force him out of my shadow and into the limelight, but it never lasted long.

He preferred to hide behind me, so I let him.

I’d like to think he has other friends besides me, but sometimes I think I really am all he has.

The song switches to “Heart Attack” by Demi Lovato and I gush, “Oh my God, I love this song.”

“I swear you have the worst taste in music.” Oliver shakes his head, his hair swaying across his eyes.

“What do you know about good music?” I scoff, contemplating a black pencil skirt.

Music was my obsession. I had a way of predicting the next hits, memorizing all the lyrics and the artists' lives before they even make it to the radio. Even Oliver admitted it was impressive.

“I know that all these artists are sellouts. They just crave fame, willing to do anything to get on the radio, to be famous. They’d even give up their creative liberties.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who never lets a soul hear him sing.”

“That’s different. I do it for myself, not for anyone else.”

“Okay, so if everyone did that, then we wouldn’t have any music to listen to.” I shake my head, my face giving him a look that says “duh.”

He turns toward my wall of posters, analyzing all the different artists – Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, Taylor Swift, One Direction, Selena Gomez, Justin Bieber, Katy Perry, you name it. Anyone worth listening to made it to my wall.

“Whatever. Maybe when I’m ready to sellout, I’ll be up there too.”

I’ve only heard Oliver once and it was by accident when I snuck into his room to surprise him a couple months ago on his birthday.

He didn’t know I was coming, but I was the one who was shocked.

Even though I only caught a few notes, it was all I needed to know that he could actually sing.

He just needs to put himself out there if he ever wants it to go anywhere and we all know that Oliver Matthews isn’t the type.

He tears his eyes from my wall, spinning and kicking some clothes around with his feet. “I think you need to take a break.”

“Can’t. Still haven’t found the right outfit yet.” I say, trying to match a pink tank top with patterned shorts.

His hand grips one of my shoulders, forcing me to spin so I can face him. He latches onto my biceps and shakes me, my entire body rocking back and forth as he groans.

“This is so boring! You have another week to figure it out!”

I shove his chest, knocking him back a couple steps. “You know how stressed I’ve been about this. If I can at least check this off the list before then, I might be able to relax.”

“What does it matter? It’s just an outfit. Who cares what you wear?” He argues.

“Just because you clearly don’t care about anything,” I gesture to his green and white striped polo and khaki shorts, “Doesn’t mean I don’t. First impressions are everything. We’re going to be meeting new people, new friends. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a boyfriend this year.”

He shakes his shaggy hair out of face as he rolls his eyes, “Can we just take a break? ”

I stand there with my arms crossed, eyes narrowed, contemplating whether I can afford to stop searching for THE outfit.

“Whatever. Fine.” I huff, still slightly annoyed.

He smiles, the dimple in his right cheek prominent, showing off his boyishness. “Sweet. Let’s go.”

We leave my room the disaster it is and clamber down the stairs. We pass through the kitchen where my mom is unloading groceries.

“Where are you guys going?” She stops us before we can even step foot in the hall.

I look to Oliver, not really sure what the answer is.

“Just going around the block to get some exercise.” He pretends to jog in place.

My mother squints in disbelief, but Oliver and I have never given her a reason to distrust us. She continues to stuff the fridge with food.

“Sure you are.” She goads. “Just be back by five.”

“We will!” I call back to her as we race through the hallway to the front door.

The August heat clings to us instantly, hugging us tightly like a heavy winter jacket. As we start shuffling along the sidewalk away from my house, I tie my blonde curls into a high ponytail.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Around the block to get some exercise.” He laughs.

I chuckle too, “I buy that as much as my mom did.”

“Whatever. You’ll see.” He nudges my side with his, pushing my feet past the edge of the sidewalk and into the grass.

“Dude!” I shout, shoving him back, both of us now breaking out into hysterics.

When we’re both on the sidewalk again, Oliver slips his arm over my shoulder.

It doesn’t escape me that it’s the first time he’s done that in a while, but I decide not to make it a big deal.

At some point as we got older, the little things we used to do became less innocent.

Like sharing drinks or holding hands. Those little meaningless gestures of friendship now have a deeper meaning, especially at thirteen.

We’ve stopped touching all together whenever we’re at school because of it, but when we’re alone, it feels like we can be ourselves again.

He maneuvers me toward an open field at the end of our neighborhood where houses have yet to be built, ushering me through the grass towards a large, looming forest.

“What the hell?” My voice comes out high pitched and filled with uncertainty.

“It’ll be fine. I want to show you something.” Oliver reassures me.

I stare into the alcove of trees and the dirt path that leads into the unknown.

We’ve passed this forest time and time again, but I’ve never ventured inside.

The daylight fades away the second we step foot under the arms of branches that hang above our heads.

Even though the sun still shines brightly, it’s as if the woods are always cursed with the darkness of night.

“What are you scared or something?” He asks me when I don’t say anything.

“No.” I snap at him, annoyed that he thinks I’m afraid.

Because I’m not... There’s just a weird vibe in this forest that I can’t explain.

It’s just something I can feel infiltrate my being, scratching at my soul.

There’s a darkness in this forest that isn’t just a void of light.

It’s more than that, like an evil lurking behind every tree, an eeriness that lies in the dirt beneath our feet.

An entity, embodying this forested land that invites you in and tricks you into never leaving.

I may be working myself up a bit.

I take a deep breath, shaking off this uncomfortable feeling and continue following Oliver down the path deeper into the woods.

“You look like you know where you’re going.” I accuse.

“That’s because I do.” He shrugs as he reaches his hand out, brushing the bushes as we walk.

“Since when?!” I question in disbelief.

“You do know I do things without you, right?” He laughs, looking back at me.

I narrow my eyes, “I know that. I just didn’t know you were into wandering around a forest like a weirdo.”

He stops in his tracks and spins on his heels. “Why does that make me a weirdo? People hike all the time, what makes this different?”

“Alone?” I argue. “That makes you either a murderer or a potential victim. Both make you crazy.”

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “You’ve known me forever and you know I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.” I mumble.

Oliver laughs, shoving into me with his side playfully before his brown eyes catch mine with a look of uncertainty that makes me uneasy.

His hand slowly brushes my fingers before taking my hand and pulling me along again.

We make our way, climbing over bulging tree roots and hopping over puddles of mud.

It feels like we continue deeper into the woods for another twenty minutes before we hear a noise that sounds like static.

We push past one last set of branches from a tall bush and find the most beautiful creek. Clear running water rushes over a bed of rocks, little fish swimming in between.

“Wow.” I breath.

“Not so weird anymore, am I?” He nudges me with his elbow.

“I stand by what I said. ”

He chuckles as he sits on the damp grass near the water. Unlike the rest of the forest, there’s an abundance of light that reflects off the water, glistening and brightening up the area. It’s a relief to feel the sun again, since it’s only late afternoon.

Oliver removes his shoes and I do the same, dipping our toes in the warm water.