Page 94 of Best Friends, Tennessee

“None, actually,” Ori said. “None of them have been worthy of it.”

I snorted, shaking my head as I looked out at the road. The sun lit up every inch of the landscape, the rolling hills lush and green after drinking up everything spring had given them. It must have rained for an hour or two in the early hours, because there was dew all over, like a damn painting. With the gentle curves of the mountains in the distance, I didn’t know how anybody could hate this place.

It was paradise, to me. I knew every farm and ranch we passed by. Knew who lived in half the houses, too.

I knew Ori’s memories of this place were vastly different from my own. But I couldn’t help but love it here more and more, with every passing year.

Bestens was different.

Peoplewantedyou to feel at home here. I’d never seen anyone treated poorly since I got out of high school—out of the bubble where students were cruel to each other for no goddamn reason.

I wanted to show Ori how good it could be now. Driving with him on this golden morning was heaven, as far as I was concerned.

He took the car down past the ranch, curving around behind the high school and onto Freighton Road.

“All right, so we definitely aren’t going to a rave,” I said, squinting out the window. “Are we going to pick up trash in the dirt lot behind the park, or something? Ain’t much back here, Ori.”

He gave me a look, and as he turned onto the next small, empty street, it dawned on me.

“You know where we’re going,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you,” I said, but there was no real anger in my voice. I looked back out down the side street, seeing it in the near distance.

He was taking us to the tree.

The damned big, old oak that the two of us used to sit under, playing cards or talking or doing whatever the hell twelve-year-olds did.

When he pulled the car up alongside it, stopping in the dirt rut on the edge of the street, I was surprised how small the tree seemed now compared to how it looked when we were kids.

“Is that really it?” I said.

He smiled, looking out the window. “Let’s go.”

I followed him out of the car, through the clearing of dirt and onto the grass. We cut a path over to the tree.

From under its big canopy, you could just see the high school from here. The middle school was a little closer, and that’s how we used to get to this place—we’d walk here after school, cut a path through the little league field and the park, hop a fence, and cross a dirt lot.

It gave way to grass and trees, and this one was always the one with the most shade.

Ori’s shoes crunched on some leaves at the base of the tree. We approached it, and we looked at the trunk. Now, it seemed bigger again, up against the trunk.

It was still there.

Covered in dust, and only a little softened by time.

Best Friends, Tennessee.

He’d been the one who carved it onto the trunk, when we were eleven or twelve. I’d been too scared, back then, to do anything close to breaking a rule.

I met Ori’s eyes, shaking my head. “We were dumb.”

“I think we were awesome.”

He leaned against the base of the tree and slid down, sitting on the grass below it. I followed, just like I used to, sitting beside him. I plucked a long piece of grass, twirling it around in my fingers.

The breeze was warm today. It smelled the same here as it always had, like dirt and leaves and… well, like home.

You could just make out the edge of the big metal bleachers at the high school, the ones where Ori used to sit and watch me at my practices. By the time high school came around, we didn’t hang out at this tree anymore.

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