the end of the day, it was always just like this: wringing out one more hour before I had to go catch hell for whatever reason.
The hole’s plenty deep, but I’m still digging. Still trying to figure out why my dad has always pushed Jake and, in a different way, me. I see so many people at school who have succeeded in sports or academics, who are tough and brave, and they don’t have to worry about this shit. The expectations they carry begin and end with personal happiness.
Mallory reaches out and touches my arm. I’m dirty, out of breath, and on the verge of tears. She picks up the sign, holding it high for both of us to see one last time, and gently puts it in the oversized hole. It only takes a few seconds to cover it back up. Like we were never here.
“We need a rock to mark it. Unless you want to make a treasure map,” she says. “Sixteen steps north. When you see the hooked nose rock, turn left and stand on one foot. That sort of thing.”
I don’t say anything, and she bumps me once with her hip.
“I don’t think anybody’s going to come looking for it,” I say.
“No, for when we come back,” she says. “Next time.”
I have to look away, staring into the dark field as she searches for a rock. We didn’t come out here much at night. Fourth of July, the rare times when our parents left us alone with Jake as a baby-sitter. Even then we had to be sneaky. We had to move quickly and deliberately. Half the time the sneaking out was the best part.
That’s how it comes to me.
Mallory’s putting a large river rock—I have no idea how it got down here—on top of the recently overturned dirt. When she sees me, I must look insane because a flash of panic comes across her face quicker than I can get the word out.
“Snap!”
Mallory’s face transforms, her eyes wide and alive. “I know you just didn’t drop Snap! on me right now, Bennett. Jesus. Snap!”
The game isn’t complicated. Run into the darkness and hide. Whoever can sneak up on the other one first and whisper, “Snap!” wins. The beauty of the game is that you can play with an entire neighborhood or just two or three. A lot of kids wanted to get Snapped! early so they could go back and sit on the porch with their friends. But forget that noise. Winning Snap! was better than money back then. Of course we played in the neighborhoods; who didn’t? But the field was ours, and we never invited anyone out here to play with us.
“We should play Snap!” I say, looking out into the dark field. Like a broken ankle waiting to happen.
Still.
This is the card I can play for her. For both of us.
“I don’t know,” Mallory says. “Your parents are going to be pissed at me.”
“One round, and then I’ll take you home,” I say. “It shouldn’t take long, seeing as I’m undefeated.”
“Okay, slow down. You may need to look up the definition of undefeated.”
I feign surprise, offense. “I seem to remember you refusing to play and running home. Multiple times.”
Her face twists into actual shock. “Are you kidding? That was you.”
“No way. I never did that.” But then it comes back to me, and I pause just long enough that Mallory starts nodding enthusiastically.
“Yeah, you know. Own your shame.”
“Well, before that I was definitely undefeated.”
“I feel like you’ve been doing a lot of drugs since we last hung out,” she says. “Even in the most backward of memories, how does that happen?”
She’s laughing, looking out into the field, likely already planning a strategy. Despite my talk, Mallory was preternatural in her abilities. She makes no sound, and her body seems to fold into the shadows. I want to play so badly. I want to win.
She sighs. “Fine. If we’re going to do this, we need to stretch first. We’re old now, and safety needs to come first.”
She makes a show of touching her toes. As soon as I bend over, she laughs. Then she screams, “Go!” and takes off running into the darkness, laughing as she disappears.
I move quickly, but carefully. Mallory always liked hiding just outside my vision, whispering “Snap!” when I passed and ending the game minutes after it began. But I can’t see anything now, so I move toward the road, away from Mallory’s initial line.
I know exactly where I’m