sjsprWriting

“Do you wish on them?”

“On what? Shooting stars?”

“Yes.”

“Nah. You?”

“Sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“What? No! I’m just… surprised. I didn’t really take you as the wishing type.”

“Well, I am.”

“Alright, dude. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just. Different…”

“Different? What did you imagine?”

“You know exactly what I imagined. If anyone cares the most about their image, it’s you. You’re big and scary and you wear a leather jacket in the middle of summer.”

“Not always.”

“Dude, I am pretty sure I have never seen you without it on. Except, for like, that one time with Danny, but—“

“No. I meant… I’m not always… scary.”

“Uhhhh, yes? You are? Not that. I’m scared of you. Most of the time.”

“You’re scared of me?”

“I just said I wasn’t.”

“You said you aren’t scared of me most of the time.”

“Uhuh.”

“Meaning you are scared of me. Sometimes.”

“What, you afraid you’re losing your touch? Don’t worry, buddy, I’m pretty sure it’s just the prolonged exposure. I’m sure you can still make any other teenager shit their pants with the lift of your eyebrows.”

“That’s… good.”

“Wait, did you seriously just get self-conscious on me? Because, seriously, there is nothing for you to be self-conscious about—“

“No. I meant—I just don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“… Okay. I’m officially worried. Are you dying? Am I dying? Is that a bird flying over there, or a pig?”

“What, I can’t be… nice?”

“Not unless you want to act completely out of character. Which you’re doing already, that with the whole wishing on stars thing.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s not. It’s a completely normal thing normal people do. It’s just that usually those people aren’t all scowly and perpetually angry at the world or threaten to rip people’s throats out with their teeth.”

“I’m nice.”

“No. You’re not. That’s the most egregious lie I’ve ever heard. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“… When I was little, my sister would drag me out here whenever I was upset and made me look for patterns in the stars with her. We’d stay out here for hours, and sometimes we saw a shooting star or two and she’d always get really excited and tell me to wish on it. I always thought it was stupid back then, but… sometimes, I wished on them, anyway. I would never have admitted it to her… but I think she knew, anyway.”

“… So. Did you wish on that one, then?”

“What?”

“The shooting star earlier. Did you wish on it?”

“Did you?”

“That’s not fair. I asked you, first.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh my god. I swear you get off on being as vague as superhumanly possible.”

“Maybe.”

“… Come on. Let’s find our names in the constellations.”