The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  It was then Ty became aware of the handful of his peers who had stopped to take curious notice of his outburst. They stood staring strangely at him, as if unbeknownst to himself he had shown up to school completely naked, especially when Ty proceeded to bow low at the waist to them while miming the removal of some invisible hat from atop his head.

  “A penny to keep our little theater company thriving,” he said, imitating a cockney accent while holding out his imaginary cap like some English street urchin brought to life from the pages of a Charles Dickens story begging passersby for a spare shilling. When all he got was a confused shaking of heads and quick dispersal of the circle of onlookers as though he had shown himself to be a carrier of plague, Ty returned the snub with a disgruntled look, fixed his invisible cap back atop his head and made off after Jacob.

  ~~~

  After a visit to the food court, where they waded through a long line of other hungry students snaking around the large, concrete and brick lunch kiosk, the two boys bypassed the spread of nearby tables which, as usual, were occupied by the Gets, and circled back around toward The Knoll.

  “So’re you going to tell me why you were M.I.A. the first two periods of school this morning?” Ty asked Jacob as the two found a patch of lawn underneath the warming sun to enjoy their lunch—a nutritious serving of a slice of pizza to be washed down with a box of milk.

  “What are you, my mother?” muttered Jacob, his nose buried once again back inside the book that from the look on his face was proving to be taxing on his concentration.

  “Uh, no, but until two seconds ago I thought I was your best friend.”

  “That mean I have to report back to you where I am and what I do every single minute of every day?”

  That’s fine,” Ty remarked dismissively, taking on a look that resided somewhere between wounded and offended. “I’ve got secrets of my own, you know...but plenty.”

  “That I have no doubt,” Jacob mumbled under his breath as he struggled with the ever-growing difficult task of reading.

  “Yeah, well, see if I share any of them with you from now on,” threatened Ty.

  “I will do my best to navigate my way through these suddenly stormy waters of our relationship,” Jacob remarked dryly while obviously not really paying attention to the mindless back and forth taking place.

  It was then that his eyes left the pages of the book he was trying to concentrate on and focused on something far more distracting than Ty’s constant babbling.

  “Do you have to always do that?” asked Jacob as he watched with annoyance as his friend went through his more than familiar ritual of picking off the bits of pepperoni sprinkled across the top of his pizza and flinging them out across the lawn to be swooped down upon and grabbed by the waiting birds gathered in the nearby trees.

  “Do what?” asked Ty.

  “That!” stressed Jacob, pointing to the pizza Ty was picking at like it was some crusty acne scab. “I don’t get it. Why not just buy a cheese pizza instead?”

  “Because,” Ty replied with an annoyed huff and eye roll, “I happen to like the taste of whatever this topping gives the pizza. Is that some crime?”

  “I think it’s called pepperoni.”

  “Last I checked, pepperoni came in slices.”

  “So then what do you think you’re picking off your pizza?” asked Jacob with not much interest for a response.

  “For all I know, it could be rabbit raisins,” answered Ty, tossing one of the greasy, pebble-sized nuggets in Jacob’s direction.

  Jacob managed to dodge the incoming lob and divert the chunk of meat with a swat of his hand.

  “What’s wrong with you?” said Jacob surly. “Can’t you see I’m trying to finish reading this chapter?”

  Ty didn’t care. Anything to get his friend’s nose out from behind that stuffy book.

  “Why are you studying now anyways? It’s lunchtime. What’r you pledging to join the Nerd Herd fraternity?” Ty inquired as he scouted out the other so-called bookworms scattered around The Knoll looking far more academic than it was comfortable for him to observe. “Frankly, I don’t think it’s all that smart for us to be sitting so close to the geek masses. It could seriously damage my reputation.”

  “You don’t have a reputation, at least one you can be proud of,” said Jacob. “Besides, I told you I have a test next period that I’m not interested in failing, and all your yakking isn’t helping.”

  “It’s literature,” said Ty.

  “Very good T. What gave it away...the book?”

  “I mean, I don’t get why it is you’re putting so much totally unnecessary effort into studying when there’s really no need to,” explained Ty, to which Jacob could only take a soothing breath in preparation for another enlightening and worldly lesson from the school of Tyology of which now and then he found himself to be the sole student.

  “Literature,” continued Ty, before Jacob could tune him out, as if it were possible, “ is no different than when Mr. Hanson asks us during art class to explain the meaning of some hideous so-called masterpiece that really, let’s be honest, is nothing more than finger-painting by adults who then deem their work ‘genius.’ It’s all subjective, open to the interpretation of the art form, in this case the written word. Now, you can sit there and waste what precious hours the day has given you pouring over page after page of blah, blah, blah. Or you can do what I do.”

  “Which is?” inquired Jacob in a tone noting his hesitation of the answer.

  “Wing it, of course. B.S. your way through the B.S.,” answered Ty, flashing a proud smile as though he had cracked the final missing link in the Theory of Everything.

  “Wing it,” echoed Jacob nonplussed.

  “I see you’re not a convert, so I’ll prove it,” challenged Ty. “I haven’t read your ‘Paradise Lost’ there—and I pray to God I’m never forced to. But ten bucks says I can take some small excerpt of your choosing and whittle it into a viable, compelling answer if I were let’s say asked to stand up in class and explain what it means. Go ahead...anything.”

  Jacob wasn’t in the mood, but he knew he’d have no peace until he allowed “Ty the Amazing” the opportunity to show off his powers of willful ignorance. And frankly, he couldn’t deny being the tiniest bit curious as to how his friend would B.S. his way—as it were so scholarly put—through such thick and tongue-unfriendly prose that he himself was struggling to comprehend. So, turning back to his book, Jacob quickly scanned the page and began to read out loud:

  Thus Satan talking to his neerest Mate

  With Head up-lift above the wave, and Eyes

  That sparkling blaz’d, his other Parts besides

  Prone on the Flood, extended long and large

  Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge

  As whom the Fables name of monstrous size,

  Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr’d on Jove,

  Briareos or Typhon, whom the Den

  By ancient Tarsus held, or that Sea-beast

  Leviathan, which God of all his works

  Created hugest that swim th’ Ocean stream.

  When he had finished, Jacob looked to Ty, who couldn’t have looked more glazed over by what he had just heard than if he’d been clobbered over the head with a two-by-four.

  “Well, genius?”

  “Alright, I got it,” said Ty clearing his throat. The hamster-occupied wheel inside his head could almost be heard to crank feverishly into motion.

  “So we all know this Milton guy was a staunch pacifist,” he began.

  “Wait a minute,” interrupted Jacob. “And just how exactly do you know Milton was a pacifist?”

  “I don’t. And ten to one odds say neither does the teacher,” explained Ty. “By stating something as fact, you’ve already won half the battle. The teacher likely won’t have any idea whether some made up bit of trivia is true or not and won’t want to risk being made to look like an idiot by challenging you on it on the off-hand chance he, or she, co
uld be proven wrong.”

  “Is that how it works?” asked Jacob dryly while quietly debating to himself whether he was in the company of an idiot of the purest form, or a genius mastermind in the making who would someday manage to use his heightened powers of deduction to earn himself a prime spot on the FBI’s most wanted list.

  ~~~

  “Shall I continue?” asked Ty.

  “Oh, please,” answered Jacob.

  Suddenly intrigue to hear what his friend’s feverish mind would concoct next, Jacob looked on with numbing awe as Ty embarked on a bombastic, yet smartly sounding bloviation arguing impossibly—and strangely possible at the same time—that Milton’s words held a dual, deeper meaning in describing the military might of the United States—“that Sea-beast Leviathan”—who with the help of its “neerest Mate”—England—gained domination across the globe as the world’s super power, and slowly came to be looked upon, by some, as the great “Satan.”

  While Jacob continued to listen to what was arguably the most creative, yet undeniably the biggest steaming pile of nonsense he’d heard, and would likely ever hear for the remainder of his life, a strange feeling suddenly came over him. It drew his attention upward into the nearby trees where the lively chatter of birds continued to ring out and tug at his ears. That he heard voices speaking distinctive words he could understand coming from within the choruses of whistling tweets and chirps wasn’t unusual, at least to him. He had always had the inexplicable ability of deciphering the noises made by the feathered creatures (not to mention dogs and cats) for as long as he could remember. What was unusual was the excitement he heard in their incessant noise.

  Jacob’s gaze then drifted beyond the trees and settled on the clock tower on the other end of The Knoll. It was from there he felt a strong, almost indescribable feeling he was being watched. A feeling he had felt on and off before on more than a few occasions as a young boy growing up, only now it had returned in recent weeks and carried with it a certain noticeable weight. So much so he half expected to see some strange figure staring back at him as he searched first the top of the out-of-commission tower right above the giant clock face, its iron hands long frozen and taking on the decaying reddish crust of a slow rust, before giving the empty blue sky above a quick, fleeting glance. Not surprisingly, there was no one there, just like all the previous times he found himself looking over his shoulder; but while the phantom eyes Jacob sought remained just that, so did the feeling they remained fixed on him.

  “Earth to Jacob,” Ty finally called out, diverting Jacob’s attention away from the clock. “Here I am trying to enlighten you and save you from possible nerddom and you’re willfully tuning me out.”

  “Oh, I heard you,” said Jacob.

  “And?”

  “And that may just be the stupidest thing I’ve ever been forced to listen to in my life.”

  “Stupid?” mused Ty thoughtfully. “Or pretty darn brilliant?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure stupid is the correct word here,” said Jacob. “First of all Milton wrote ‘Paradise Lost’ more than a hundred years before America was even founded.”

  “Seriously?” said Ty with a surprised cock of his head. “So then one could argue he was the Nostradamus of his time. Even better, it brings in a whole philosophical angle to it.”

  Jacob could only stare at his friend with utter bafflement.

  “This explains so much your solid C grade-point average.”

  “AHHHH…,” said Ty with a triumphant pointing of a finger skyward, “as opposed to failing. A perfectly acceptable and passable grade-point average built on the golden rule of B.S., or what I like to refer to as ‘The Three C’s— Creative Cognitive Crap.’”

  Shaking his head, Jacob let out a sigh of defeat. “You exhaust me! You know that, don’t you?”

  “As long as it puts a smile on your face, my friend.” It was the rare moment Ty offered a fully sincere response, devoid of all sarcasm or wisecracks, and Jacob recognized and appreciated it for what it was.

  It had been nearly two weeks since his mother had died, and still Jacob found himself wrestling with the pain as if it were yesterday. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shirk the anger that continued to roil his insides. As a result, he seemed to exist under a perpetual black cloud—moody and quiet, and always simmering, like a smoldering volcano inching its way closer towards the moment of eruption, even as his friend did his best to cool the lava with his antics.

  “Speaking of smiles,” said Ty. “What say next weekend the two of us head up to Penuel Point for a little sky kissing?”

  Penuel Point was a two-hour winding drive to the highest peak of the nearby mountain range offering a breath-taking view of Cain’s Corner and the valley which it resided nestled at its feet. It was also the place Jacob and Ty went to whenever they felt the need to get high nature’s way with nothing but a parachute strapped to their backs and nerve laced to their feet as they willingly ran full-speed toward a waiting sheer cliff and catapulted themselves into the arms of nothingness to kiss the sky Jimi Hendrix-style in exchange for a mind- numbing jolt of adrenaline. Some of the duo’s best times had been spent up at Penuel Point and Ty knew if there was one thing that could raise his friend’s spirits it was a day of dare-devilry. Except Jacob didn’t react to the suggestion with the gusto Ty expected. In fact, Jacob didn’t seem to even be paying any attention to his friend.

  “Uh, hello…did you hear me or did I lose you again?” asked Ty.

  “Yeah…Penuel Point next weekend. Sounds like a plan,” answered Jacob.

  Only there was absent any twinkle of excitement previous proposed outings brought to his eyes which instead seemed to latch themselves to something off in the distance that made his jaw visibly tighten while instantly erasing what was left his smile. The grimace didn’t escape Ty, who followed Jacob’s glare fixed past his shoulder to see what had made his friend’s face go sour. When his gaze instantly landed on the familiar sight of Wray Bliss standing near the library, it didn’t surprise him one bit. Not that Wray alone could ever darken Jacob’s expression the way it had. In fact, she had an effortless way of doing quite the opposite. However, she was not alone, and the person she was seen cavorting with was an entirely different matter altogether.

  Yul Dane.

  If ever there was one individual who managed to get under Jacob’s skin like some Lyme disease-carrying tick, it was Yul Dane. He was the epitome of a Harpus High “Get”: Blond, statuesque build, perfectly chiseled good looks, and the school’s star athlete. He was also a contemptible jerk to those he saw as beneath him—which was pretty much everyone, especially Ghosts—and was notorious for using them as stepping stones whenever he could so the bottoms of his designer shoes wouldn’t be dirtied by the ground. Which made the sight of seeing him and Wray together all the more mind-numbing. Like Jacob and Ty, she, too, was a fellow Ghost. Only she possessed an odd beauty that refused to allow her to fully disappear from sight into the hordes of other invisible castaways. What made matters worse was the fact that she was holding hands with the enemy and canoodling with him in a giggly, innocent way, yet canoodling all the same, a sight which all but made vapors of steam escape from Jacob’s ears.

  “I don’t get it,” said Ty to Jacob who had returned to his book and was furiously scanning the words inside even though nothing was sticking.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” said Jacob.

  “Why you haven’t put a stop to that.”

  “A stop to what?”

  “THAT!” said Ty, framing the sight of Wray and Yul between his outstretched hands.

  “What am I, her father?” said Jacob irritably.

  “No, but she is your girlfriend,” said Ty.

  Jacob shot Ty a look over the top of his book as though it were a pair of bifocals pinching the end of his nose. “I’m sorry? Girlfriend?”

  “Yeah...you know...” Ty proceeded to bring his hands together in front of him to form the shape of a hear
t before taking note of the completely humorless glare Jacob returned his way. “Am I lying?”

  “If by girlfriend you mean she’s a girl who also happens to be a friend of mine, then no, you’re not.”

  “Please,” said Ty rolling his eyes. “The two of you are about as much friends as Batman and Robin.”

  Jacob straightened his back while staring at Ty as though he were a head-scratching calculus problem he’d been called upon to solve.

  “We’ve gone through this before. There’s nothing romantic between Batman and Robin. Never was, never has been,” said Jacob. “And even it were true, your comparison makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. ”

  “Of course it does,” argued Ty. “Love is love. And please…the only thing that isn’t a wonder about the Boy Wonder is that he is as straight as cooked spaghetti. I mean he rocks a green Speedo and pixie boots for crying out loud.”

  Jacob could only close his eyes and take a calming breath upon hearing such an argument.

  “All I’m saying is I can’t believe you’re sitting here reading some crusty old book while your sworn enemy is moving in on your girlfriend—sorry, I mean friiiieeend,” said Ty while dramatically etching invisible quote marks into the air.

  “For the last time, Wray is not my girlfriend, nor do I desire her to be my girlfriend,” Jacob explained in the calm voice one uses when reasoning with a stubborn toddler.

  Ty’s mouth immediately cocked itself but Jacob quickly hushed him before he could get the first syllable of his retort out.

  “Now, can we just end this already? Please?” implored Jacob.

  “Fine,” Ty huffed in agreement. “If you tell me where you were this morning.”

  Blackmail. Subtle and backhanded, but blackmail just the same. It was so in keeping with Ty’s character.

  “There’s still my theory about Samwise Gamgee and Frodo you still haven’t allowed me to share with you yet,” Ty sang threateningly when he noticed Jacob wavering on the fence as he considered his options.