LJ Idol: Exhibit A, Post #3 - The highest point.

Those of you who have been around these parts awhile might know this story, but they might not know it in quite this way.

It was after dark when my classmates and I trickled into the warm fall night, laughing and talking loudly, chasing each other around and feeling an itch to do something brisk and drastic. It was partially because we were teenagers and burrowed deep in that mythic age of boundless energy and waking nights. It was also because we had just spent three hours sitting on the floor of a doctor's den, crafting flowers out of small pink and white bin liners. In the month we'd been working on our float for the homecoming parade we'd made close to 700 trash bag flowers and we needed at least 500 more. Our float won the spirit vote every year and this year was going to be no exception. I still remember the fake vanilla smell and the dryness of my fingertips.

We were all a little disappointed too, to tell the truth. Every homecoming there was a war between the senior class and the junior class and we had been prepared for junior operatives to come by and try to take us unawares. We had eggs and paintball guns and water cannons at the ready, but we were left undisturbed. So it was with extra nervousness that I made small talk with the boy I liked as we headed to our vehicles.

"Sucks that nothing happened," he said.

"I know," I said.

His friend offered no comment, hanging back with his hands in his pockets.

We stopped between my car and his truck, standing safe in the warm yellow glow of a phosphorous street lamp as our friends drove away, gazing out into the darkness surrounding the house rather than make eye contact. "Hey," he said. "Do you wanna do something?"

"Yeah."

"How about a high speed car chase?"

I think I'd meant to make an excuse, and I remember feeling like my knees were going to buckle. Still, something about the straight way his mouth was set and the light in his eyes confused my response. "Yes, I'm in."

He played it cool then, getting into his truck and letting his friend in the passenger side. I was shaking so hard at that point that I fumbled extra long with my keys and worried that they'd lose me off the bat. I was later told that he was shaking too and saying 'I didn't expect her to say yes' over and over to his friend. We all do stupid things when we're young.

We managed to make it out of the subdivision before we got too wild, but five minutes later I was flying down the beach road, pushing my 10 year old Honda to 95 miles per hour in a 35 mile per hour zone, flying past tourists in slow, lumbering sedans with northern plates. I was still shaking, but now with exhilaration. The island where I grew up isn't a big place. It's about five miles by twelve miles, and we only actually drove over about a quarter of it in our adventure, staying off the two busiest roads and sticking to dark clusters of neighborhoods on the north end. The streets were well-worn grooves to us by this time, even though we hadn't been driving for more than a couple years. We merely followed the paths we knew by heart and trusted the stagnant nature of the place to keep us safe.

When you're eighteen you're invincible, so even as my car slid sideways into a sandy lot in an empty subdivision newly under construction, I didn't once think about hitting someone or something. I didn't stop to consider how much a speeding ticket would cost if I was gunned pushing 100 miles per hour on surface streets. I only thought about my steering wheel and the Nine Inch Nails blaring in my tinny, stock speakers and the traction of my tires and keeping up. We probably drove around this way for close to half an hour, but it was only that slide that nearly made me lose him.

He finally stopped his truck at the top of the Eighteenth Street hill and got out. It's the highest point on the island at a staggering 17 feet above sea level. When I had parked and joined him in the middle of the street we were literally standing at the top of our small world. It was then that the night fell in on me. I hadn't noticed any of it before, too distracted by his presence and my itch. It was clear out. There were stars upon stars above us. The air was warm and wet, like it usually is in Florida in September, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Yes, I'll blame that on the air.

"I need to take my friend home," he said. "But good try."

"Thanks," I replied, trying to be cool about what I'd just done, as if I often spent my week nights doing stupid things with stupid boys. I didn't want to show my hand. I didn't want to be seen as excitable or overeager, even though he probably knew pretty well by then that I was both of those things. "I'll see you at school then?"

"Yeah," he said. And we parted ways. I spent a good amount of time after that aimlessly driving around the island and trying to calm my nerves enough to go home.

The funniest part of this story, the part worn smooth from telling, is that on my way home I got pulled over and given a warning for 'reckless driving'. It happened when I flipped my turn indicator and accidentally rolled my hand along the arm, briefly turning on my brights. I turned them off quickly, but was signaled over by a cop I hadn't even seen who thought I was warning other people that he was there. A neat trick, considering it was close to midnight and there was no one else on the road. I gladly took it though, and laughed giddily on my way back to my parents' house. Reckless, I thought, if only he'd seen me just minutes before.

So that's the part of the story I tell, but it's not the part that's the most important. The part that's the most important is that I said yes impulsively to something I knew I shouldn't do, something dangerous and stupid, and it changed my life. If only I could remember that more often as I grow. It would keep me from stagnating like home.


This post was written in response to therealljidol Exhibit A, Week Three Topic: Shenanigans. Concrit and comments are welcome.