The Great Big Book of Everything

Befriend Tucker King again, I scribbled into the notebook I carried around everywhere. I sat in AP Psych, mindlessly writing notes whenever the teacher stopped ranting long enough to say something mildly important. But mostly, I just wrote in my notebook. Tucker King snored next to me. I nudged him with my elbow. He looked at me groggily.

“You were snoring,” I whispered.

“Thanks,” he muttered sitting up more in his chair.

As Tucker attempted to feign interest I could see his head falling slowly. It reminded me of all the times we built forts in his living room. On the days my mom worked late we would fall asleep under the blankets. At midnight or so my mom would wake me up and we would groggily make our way back home.

But that was a long time ago. Back in the simpler times. Back when I was carefree and innocent. Back when Tucker didn’t care what other people thought.

The final bell rang. Students frantically shoved things in their backpacks and sped out the door. As I threw my purse over my shoulder and turned to walk away I bumped into Tucker spilling the contents of my bag and his unzipped backpack.

“Sorry,” we both muttered at the same time.

Tucker and I began to scramble for our things, handing the other what wasn’t ours. Once everything was back in its place I waved goodbye and walked away.

I could hear the yelling downstairs as I lay in bed that night. The yelling wasn’t too bad; it was the sound of my mom’s voice I couldn’t handle. I could hear the pain as she yelled empty threats at my dad. I could hear the tears running down her face. I could hear the fear in her voice.

I shoved my green gummy head phones into my ears and I turned my IPod up as loud as it could go. It still didn’t drown out the yelling, but it was good enough. I grabbed my purse and grabbed for my notebook. Out came my psych notebook. I peered into my purse. My Great Big Book of Everything was not there. A moment of panic ran through me. I dumped the entire contents of my purse onto my floor. I pushed around the granola bar wrappers, pens, and books. My Great Big Book of Everything was nowhere to be found. I dug through the drawers in my side table, threw my blankets off my bed, tipped over the chair in the corner of my room. The notebook was nowhere. I sat in the middle of the room, tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes. That notebook held my entire life. I had written things in there that I had never told anyone. If it fell in the wrong hands there’s no telling what could happen.

That night I fell asleep on my bedroom floor, curled up into a ball with my headphones still plugged into my ears. After a few hours my IPod shut itself off. A knocking against my window slowly awoke me. I rubbed my eyes groggily. Tucker King stood outside my window smiling and waving. I pushed myself off the floor and walked over to my window.

“Hi?” Tucker climbed through the opening. He was wearing jeans, a black sweatshirt, and his backpack. I suddenly became aware of my old shorts and torn up t-shirt.

“Put on some clothes and let’s go,” he said plopping himself on my bed. I stared at him quizzically. He pulled a purple composition book out of his backpack. An involuntary gasp escaped from my mouth. He flipped it to a flagged page. “Number 64: Sneak out and actual do something fun,” he read confidently. I remained calm on the outside, but on the inside I was freaking out.

“How did you get that?”

“When we bumped into each other leaving sixth period I accidently grabbed it.”

“And you read it?” Tucker simply shrugged in response. “Can I please have it back? That thing is pretty much my whole life.”

“You can have it back as soon as you put on some clothes and climb out that damn window.”

Tucker wasn’t the kind of guy to back down when he wanted something done. I knew the only way to get my notebook back would be to do as he said. I grabbed a pair of dark skinny jeans and the North Face I found at Good Will from a pile in the corner of my room. Tucker turned around so I could change. I slipped my old black Chucks onto my feet and hoisted myself out the small opening of my window. Tucker followed. He began to walk across my back yard without an explanation as to where we were headed. I followed obediently with only the end product in mind. My notebook.

The drive to the mystery location was painfully quiet and awkward. I wondered how much of the notebook he had read. How much of my previously secretive life did Tucker King now know? Was he just doing this out of pity or did he genuinely want to be spending the time with me? What is the real reason behind Tucker coming to my window at midnight to whisk me away into the night?

Five years ago seeing his puppy dog brown eyes staring through my window wouldn’t have been an odd site. Five years ago I would have welcomed it, but that was back before the pressure of high school and the social ladder fell before us. Once upon a time Tucker and I were inseparable. He was my best friend in the entire world. We conquered elementary and middle school together. As soon as freshman year hit Tucker became more involved with soccer. He gained more friends. I just stayed the same. Soon enough we were barely talking to each other anymore.

Tucker’s car came to a stop in front of the Seattle aquarium. I looked at him confused. He pulled out the notebook.

“Number 28: Go to the aquarium. I haven’t been there in years,” he read from a page near the beginning.

“How are we getting in there?”

“I know a guy,” Tucker shrugged.

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

Tucker hurried around to my side of the car to open the door. I nodded a thank you. A big guy in a security guards uniform was standing by the door. Tucker waved. The guy nodded and let us in.

The aquarium looked as though it had never closed. All the lights were still on. The displays were still out. Music still played above us.

Tucker and I walked along the exhibits looking at the various sea creatures. It wasn’t hard to fall back into our old grove. We joked around like we had never lost touch. As we came back to the front of the aquarium Tucker pulled out my notebook again. He drew a line through number 28. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the exit. The next time the car stopped we were in front of Safeco field.

“Number 109: Sing the National Anthem at Safeco.”

Tucker grabbed my hand again. We bolted towards the field. I stood on the pitcher’s mound with a microphone in my hand. I belted out the National Anthem as loud as I could. Tucker sat in the stands listening. As the last note rang out he cheered. I bowed. The smile consumed my entire face. We stayed at Safeco for a while passing the ball and running the bases before Tucker whisked me away once again.

We continued to run about Seattle. We screamed at the top of our lungs at the Fremont Troll. We took a Duck tour through the city. We were the only two on the vehicle. We raced Razor scooters down the corridors of Pike Place Market. We danced in the rain. Before the sun began to rise we took the elevator to the top of the Space Needle. A picnic sat waiting. Tucker pulled out a chair. The smile on my face grew, if that was possible, as I took my seat. We ate delicious food as we watched the sun rise over the Sound.

“So how much did you read?” I finally asked once I could no longer bear it. Tucker remained silent, thinking over his answer carefully. “How much?” I asked again, growing annoyed.

“Most of it. The entire list and a lot of the journal entry things.”

I wanted so badly to be angry. I wanted to scream and curse. I wanted to tell him that he had no right to know what I had written on those pages. That what happened in my life was for me and only me. But I wasn’t mad at all. After the night Tucker had just given me, slowly starting to check off my list of things to do before I die, I couldn’t be mad at him. And honestly, it was somewhat of a relief that someone else knew.

“The aquarium was on the list because that was the last happy memory I have of my parents,” I explained. I was unable to look Tucker in the eye knowing what he knew.

“Why haven’t you done something about him?”

“This is me doing something about it,” I replied pointing at the notebook which now sat open between us. The list which was previously free of marks now had lines all up and down the paper. “That’s how the list started. It was all the stuff I hoped to do before I died. In case he killed me.” Tucker was the only person who I ever told this too. I never even admitted this too myself.

“We should get you home,” Tucker said after what felt like years of silence.

Tucker threw his arm over my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around his waist. I hid from the cold Washington wind in Tuckers warm body as we walked to the car. The car ride back home was silent, but comfortable. When I told Tucker the truth about the list I felt the world lift off my chest. It was so much better knowing I was no longer alone.

Tucker walked me across my backyard and helped me up through my window.

"Thanks. I don’t think you have any idea how much I needed tonight.”

“My pleasure.”

Tuckers lips pressed against mine caught me by surprise. When we parted he pulled my notebook and a pen out of his backpack.

“Number 127: Befriend Tucker King again,” he read cockily while scribbling it out.

I snatched the notebook out of his hand and planted a quick kiss on his lips before slamming the window in his face. Tucker stuck his tongue out before walking back to his car. I fell asleep smiling.