Take This to Your Grave

My dad patted my head as he left for work the next morning. I was up, I couldn't sleep; I was thinking about Pete and the party. I didn't say anything to my dad; he seemed oblivious to my outward nervousness.

After he had gone, I ate cereal on the couch and watched games shows. At 11 am, still in pajamas, a knock came on the door. I groaned inwardly and stood up; the person knocked again, harder. I walked over, unlocking and opening the door. My brows shot up when I saw Pete.

He had his hands jammed into his pockets, and his head tilted down, but eyes up at me. "Nice pajamas."

I look down and see that in wearing my dad's old NYU shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. "Thanks?" I mutter. "What do you want?" I ask this curiously.

He shrugs, "Wanna go for a walk?"

I think a moment, "Oh... Yeah, sure. Let me get dressed."

Pete gave a nod, "I'll be outside."

He turned and I shut the door, hurrying up the stairs. I brushed my teeth, pulled on some denim shorts and a t-shirt. I slipped my shoes on and put my hair up before jogging down the stairs. I opened the door and saw Pete sitting on the first step. He turned and faced me, "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Pete stood and led the way out of my yard. He and I walked side by side, our steps matching in a march. He looked at me, "Pandora is at the vet today," he says. "Mom's afraid they'll put him down."

"Why?"

"He's an old dog... He's 12."

"That sucks," I shake my head, "Sorry."

"It's okay. My mom got him when I went away 4 years ago."

It was silent, mainly because what he said threw me through a loop. I clasp my hands together, looking at him. "I'm sorry I'm so quiet," I tell him softly, "I'm not used to talking to boys."

"Except my brother?" He questions a bit aggressively.

I don't take any offense; "Your brother was very quiet when we talked. He stared at me."

Pete laughs; it's this heavy, raspy laugh that matched his voice. I laugh at it, watching his eyes squint and his lips turn up in a grin. He's so cute to me.

"Andrew had a crush on you... I bet." He adds the last part, his laugh small now.

"He's okay, but his staring did creep me out a little."

Pete shakes his head, "I'd be surprised if you weren't creeped out."

We both laugh again, only a little, and continue on walking, quietly. Pete looked over at me, "Wanna go to the cemetery?"

I raise a brow, "For what?"

"Funeral crashing." He grins.

I stop and he does too, a few feet ahead of me; "Funeral crashing? No way!"

He still grins, big joker, "I'm joking, Naomi. Lets just go. It's quiet there."

"That's because all the residents are dead." I say as I continue forward.

"That's the spirit."

I roll my eyes at him and let him lead the way.

We got to the empty cemetery; not even the birds chirp. He leads me towards a large mausoleum; it looks like a miniature castle. The front entry, with a steel door with vine like designs, read: Here Lies Christopher K. Connor.

Pete led me around the back, where the grass was shadowed by the mausoleum. He sits down first, on the grass and I follow. "I come here a lot... Since I came home, really." He begins, "I like it here. It's quiet."

I look around at the large headstones around, the blooming flowers for the rotting dead. I turn my attention back towards Pete; "Do you come here alone?"

"Yeah." He doesn't look at me, only at the sky.

"How come you brought me?"

He lies back on the grass, tucks his hands behind his head, still staring at the sky. "Because I wanted to." He says nonchalantly.

There's so many things gushing and tossing around my body and head. He confuses me, and I wish I had the guts to question his motives. Question everything about him.

"You ever bring your two friends here with you?" I ask instead of being bold.

Pete scoffs, "They'd laugh at me."

I frown, "Why? What's so bad about wanting to have a quiet place to be?"

Pete sits up and looks at me; his eyes narrow, but in a curious way. "They're guys. I'm sure they got their own secrets that they think'll look like pussies."

"Even so, it doesn't give them any right to laugh. Would you laugh at them?"

He shrugs and looks down, "I don't know."

We are quiet again; Pete began to pluck grass blades, making the earth and dirt pop. I finally gather the courage to ask why he was in boot camp. "How... How come you were in boot camp?"

Pete looks up at me, "Uh, I was skipping school and staying out late; shit like that."

"How was it?"

He sucks his teeth, "It was hell. There was fuckin' psychotic motherfuckers in there. I begged to come home whenever I called home... I got beat up, and finally my parents agreed to bring me home."

I just stare at him. I don't know what to say. Pete looks down again, plucking the grass aggressively.

"I'm sorry I asked," I mumbled. "It's none of my business."

"You're the first person who has ever said that." His voice is low, and I suspect he was reluctant to say it.

I don't respond to it, I just lay back in the grass and stare at the sky. I interlaced my fingers and place them on my stomach. Pete looks at me, I feel his eyes, and then he lies back next to me.

"There's a cloud that looks like a coffin," I say to him as I point to the sky.

Pete laughs that raspy laugh; "I see a bat."

Pete and I watched the sky and pointed out figures and shapes until he grabbed my arm and looked at my wrist watch. "It's 3, we should go." He says.

I frown as he lets my arm go and places it back on my stomach; "I'm too comfortable." I protest.

He smiles at me, "C'mon, we'll get some ice cream."

That entices me, causing me to actually get up. We both stand, and he tells me to turn around. I did so, not thinking twice, and then I feel his hands patting down my back and bottom; "You've got grass blades on you, and a rose petal."

I turn back and see he's holding it up between his thumb and index finger. I smile at it, "Cool."

Pete hands it out to me and I take it, and place it in my pocket. He led the way to the exit, we marched side by side quietly. We got down the block, away from the cemetery, when I feel his hand cup mine.

I look at him, curiously, and he doesn't have an expression on his face. Then, his lips turn up, "Want me to let go?"

I shake my head, "No."

Pete looked forward and held my hand tighter; it was so comforting.