Page 25 of As You Walk On

“It’s called preparation, Jay,” Darren says while happily accepting the cup passed to him.

His No Hangover Super Soldier Serum consists of a teaspoon of olive oil, at least two greasy burgers from a fast-food restaurant, an adult dose of the pink stomach stuff, and, finally, lots of water before and after. He’s the only proven statistic. Though, I can vouch he hasn’t crashed miserably after a night of drinking so far.

“You too can live hangover-free if you’d follow my methods, Theo,” Darren says, slurping through his straw.

“Then who’d drive?”

He rubs his chin, considering. “Good point.”

We cruise through serene, antiquated neighborhoods. Long driveways lead up to brick homes and pristine green lawns. The sinking sun bounces orange light off the windows. It’s weird how every house appears untouchable and cozy at the same time. Nothing like the South End where everything looks well loved.

Passenger window down, Jay takes hits from his blunt. I don’t mind the scent. It’s his car, so whatever. But between the woodsy aroma and Sonic, we’re going to show up at Chloe’s smelling like a bad, early-aughts teen rom-com.

“Wait, wait, wait! Chill, chill, chill!” Jay almost tips over his cup excitedly. “Check the memories post that just popped up on IG.”

I pull to a complete stop at the end of the road to look at his phone.

It’s a photo of TNT. Our first day of track practice. New cleats and shorts and still-dry white T-shirts. Official members of the squad.

“Badasses,” says Darren after another sip.

“Speak for yourself.” Jay guffaws. “Theo, what was up with your hair?”

“Probably the same thing that was up with your face.” I thump his shoulder. “Puberty’s a scam, right?”

“True.”

Darren laments, “Palo Alto will never be able to upgrade you two.”

“Neither will the Ivies,” Jay agrees.

We don’t talk about this often. Life after high school. Darren’s applying to Stanford and Cal Tech. The Scotts won’t settle for anything short of Yale for Jay.MaybePrinceton, Cornell, or Brown. All to spite Jules. Apparently, it’s Duke for me.

The fact that The Nameless Trio won’t be on the same campus in less than two years blows my mind. In Darren’s case, not even in the same time zone.

I keep wondering what happens to us after we toss our graduation caps in the air. How many more miles does our friendship have? Are before-college friendships like bookmarks on your web browser? You occasionally revisit them or completely forget they’re there. Are they like those tabs you keep open for no apparent reason?

Is that how it was for Dad and his high school friends?

One day, they woke up. Moved on. From shared lunches and study guides and secrets to perfunctory hellos in the Starbucks line.

I can’t imagine Jay missing my birthday.

Every November 8 at 12:01 a.m. he posts a vintage photo of us as Batman and Joker on Halloween. It’ll include one long, sappy-as-hell caption that’s guaranteed to leave me choked up, not that I ever tell him or Darren.

He never forgets.

Just like he remembers to bring an extra T-shirt and shorts in case I forget practice clothes for track. His trunk remains stocked with bottled water. In the center console are five different kinds of phone plugs so everyone can stay charged.

It’s who he is.

Friendly. Thoughtful.

That’s why it’s so hard to swallow what happened back at SpeedEx. The way he didn’t call Cole out for his homophobia. Hislies.

“God, we were such rookies back then,” Jay reflects.

I pull back onto the main road. “That’s your fault,” I tease.

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