Caroline Sweikata

Our Hill of Stars

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. Repeat this three times.” 

My therapist’s words play on a loop in my head as I sit in the parking lot of my high school. I’m still holding onto the steering wheel of my car even though I pulled into my spot five minutes ago. This morning my anxiety increased tenfold. I woke up later than usual, so I didn’t have time to eat my breakfast, and I forgot my computer for class; my usual routine is all over the place.  

On top of everything, Finley decided to tell me last night that she committed to NYU. Starting next year my best friend and I are going to be living hours away from each other.  

As you can see, I need to calm down before I walk into a human zoo that our society has deemed “high school”.   

Apparently, Finley could sense that I was off more than usual. As she walks into our 8th-period English class, instead of making her rounds to say “hello” to our classmates, she makes a beeline to me. She flops down in her seat next to me, throws her books on the desk, and turns her whole body to face me. “What’s going on Rynapple? I could feel your leg shaking from my Calculus class.”  

The nickname she created at lunch in fifth grade rolls off her tongue and I can’t help but smile when I hear it. Her eyes are soft and only focusing on me, showing how truly concerned she is. 

Finley Summers has been my best friend since third grade. Since our last names are close together, Stone and Summers, we were always put together for projects, discussions, and seating charts. She would try to get me to talk, but my little, introverted, young self just looked at her with wide eyes while she talked and talked and talked.  

I remember the first time she spoke to me, it was my first day of third grade. I was already sitting at my designated desk, trying to mentally prepare myself that I would have to sit directly next to someone; Ms. Cummings decided to put us in partners rather than the usual rows. I figured it would either be Josh Swimmer or Shawn Tanner sitting next to me this year because our last names were so close. What I wasn’t expecting was a new little girl with blonde pigtails, and a bright pink dress bouncing into the classroom. I couldn’t help but stare at her while she skipped toward me after our teacher told her where to sit. My heart began to beat faster the closer she got to me.  

I was still staring at her when she stood directly next to me and shoved her hand out and said, “The name is Finley James Summers, and you’re going to be my best friend.” 

I guess she broke me down enough throughout the year until I started responding back and that was that.  

Oh and I almost forgot, I’m hopelessly in love with her, but she has no clue. 

I didn’t realize I was staring at her until she placed her hand on my knee and said, “You in there Ryder?” 

Even though I usually tell her everything, I don’t want to bother her with my anxiety today, so I answer with, “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Finley doesn’t look convinced by this answer, but luckily she doesn’t push for me to tell her more. Ms. Creely begins her speel on how she believes Shakespeare was gay, which I would usually be listening to, but instead, I focus on trying to calm my anxiety as I doodle little things in the margins of my notebook.  

Halfway through the period, a folded piece of paper falls onto my desk with my name written in Finley’s handwriting. I look over at her, but she’s trying to play it off as if she isn’t sneaking notes in class by looking at Ms. Creely with a weird intensity. I put the note in my lap and begin to slowly unfold it, careful to not bring any attention to me. 

Rynapple- 

Even though you said you were fine, I don’t believe you in the slightest. After my soccer practice come pick me up for a mood-boosting evening with your favorite person ever.  

-Finster 

 

Finley is always planning these excursions she calls “Mission Help Ryder” when I have one of my anxiety-filled days; whether it’s attending a painting class, walking around a bookstore, or binge-watching The Hunger Games series on her couch. 

I smile to myself, fold up the note back into a little square, and put it into my back pocket. Throughout the day I would find myself rubbing the note with my thumb to calm myself when I didn’t have her physically next to me. 

I couldn’t stop staring at the clock in my bedroom, waiting for it to hit six o’clock, so I could book it to my car. I try not to look too excited as I stand outside my 2009 Subaru waiting for Finley to be done with practice. She’s always the last one to leave the field, so I’m not surprised the entire parking lot is empty by the time she’s walking to me.  

Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing athletic shorts along with one of my old math team shirts that she probably stole during one of our many sleepovers.   

When I look back up she has a smile on her face, “What took you so long Ry?”  

God, for being in love with her she sure is a pain in my ass. “Shut up and get in the car.” 

 I try to act tough, but she just laughs as she throws her bag into the back seat. I don’t even get to put my seatbelt on before Finley shoves her hand in my face, silently asking for my phone so she can play music. I roll my eyes at her and pull it out of my pocket. “Thank you,” she says in a sing-songy voice. As much as I hate some of her music choices, I would listen to whatever she wanted for hours if it meant I could just be near her.  

I throw the car in drive and put my arm over her seat to back out of my spot. I could be grasping at straws, but I swear I saw her blush when my body got close to her.  

I’m guessing she’s starving after her two-hour practice, so I start driving off in the direction of our favorite diner. When she sees the neon sign in the distance, Finely starts jumping in her seat and screaming, “THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!” 

During dinner, Finley scarfs down her burger like she hasn’t eaten in days when a little bit of ketchup smudges on her cheek, and without even thinking I bring my hand out to wipe it; she keeps eye contact the entire time of the exchange. The sound of the door opening and a group of rowdy men broke the tension and we both flopped back into our seats.  

In an effort to ease the awkwardness that was created, I immediately jumped into a story from when we were younger. “Remember in middle school when Johnny Frinkle got pantsed during the poetry slam?”  

The milkshake Finley was drinking sprayed out of her nose and she burst out laughing.  

Once dinner was over, we strolled back to my car and flopped inside. In comfortable silence, I start pulling out of the parking lot.  

“So where to, Finster?” I ask while sneaking a look at her as she cues up the next song.  

She looks up at me through her long, black eyelashes and just smiles. No answer, just smiles. “You know, I kind of need to know what we’re doing since I’m the one driving.”  

She huffs and opens the GPS app on my phone I assumed to put directions in. After doing so, Finley hands back my phone rolls down the window and closes her eyes. I almost ran a red light because I couldn’t stop looking over at her. She looks at peace like there’s a warm glow radiating off of her.  

My anxiety has lowered substantially, but I’m not going to tell Finley that because I want to know what adventure she has in store. I know where she’s taking me because we have gotten through about half of our “Fin&Ry” playlist and passed the old abandoned barn. I’m not going to tell her that I know where we’re going, but I definitely don’t need the directions.  

Finley lowers the music and turns so that her whole body is facing me in the passenger seat. “I don’t want to push you, but do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you all day?” 

 I quickly look over at her; she has her knees against her chest and is leaning her head against the seat.  

“I told you before that I was fine.”  

I don’t hear her say anything, so I look at her out of the corner of my eye and see that she’s giving me a bored expression. “Okay, maybe I’m a little anxious today,” I sigh.  

Her eyes were soft and she said, “Talk to me Ryder, what’s going on?” 

 She only uses my full name when she’s being serious. I take a deep breath. How am I supposed to tell my best friend that I’m scared to be so far away from her? I don’t want her to think I’m weird for being so attached to her or worse, have her laugh at me.  

“You know you can trust me with anything, right? I would never judge you.” 

 I swear this girl can hear my thoughts or something. As I pulled onto the gravel road I replied, “I’m just nervous for next year”.  

“You know you’re Valedictorian, right? Classes are going to be a breeze for you. And everyone is obsessed with you. People are going to be begging on their hands and knees to be friends with you.”  

I give her a sad laugh because of course that’s why she would think I’m nervous. It shows how one-sided this love is, I guess.  

I turn into a spot under a big oak tree and throw the car in park. Staring out the window I say, “Yeah, it’s not that.”  

I turned to lean on the headrest, mirroring the position she’s sitting in. She’s doing that cute nose scrunch she only does when she gets confused. Wow, I’m in deep. I surprise myself by saying, “It’s just going to suck being four hours away from you. Who’s going to barge into my room at three o’clock in the morning demanding to watch an episode of New Girl?”.   

That little joke gets me my favorite sound, her soft giggle.  

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re like my favorite person. How am I supposed to survive without you?”  

I have to look at my hands because my cheeks blush when I hear her call me her favorite person. “You’re going to be just fine without me, Fin. I bet you won’t even remember who I am by the time break rolls around.”  

I feel a hand on my arm right after the words leave my mouth. I look up at her to see her staring into my eyes and in a serious tone, she says, “I would never forget about you and I won’t let you forget about me either. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth if I have to.”  

She takes a deep breath and keeps going, “You mean more to me than you know Ryder.” 

This is what a heart attack must feel like because holy shit my heart feels like it’s about to explode. I really want to kiss her right now; I wish I wasn’t such a little bitch and just do it. Instead of following my instincts, I replied, “I would too. Follow you anywhere that is.”  

I saw a faint tint of pink come to her cheeks when I said it. “You really mean that?”  

Is she crazy? I’ve been in love with her since she dragged me to slow dance at our junior prom, of course, I’d follow her anywhere. I try not to look too eager as I nod. 

It looks as if a lightbulb goes off in her mind and a smirk slowly shows on her face. “I don’t know if I believe you. You might just have to prove it.” 

Before I can even comprehend what she said, she’s thrown open the passenger door and sprinted up the grassy hill. She’s such a lunatic, what the hell is she even doing? Of course, I’m going to run after her though. I jump out of the car and begin sprinting after. We’re both laughing and running so hard that we can barely breathe. I catch up to her and wrap my arms around her waist, spinning her around in the air. Her head is leaning against my shoulder with her eyes closed and she is hysterically laughing. When I finally place her on the ground she lays down on the grass, sprawling out.  

Collapsing on the soft dewy grass, I look over at Finley and it feels as if the universe just stops. The air has been ripped from my lungs, my pulse quickens, and the hairs on my arms stick up. Normally this would mean that I’m on the verge of a panic attack, but this time… this time is different. I am itching to just say the phrase that has been on the tip of my tongue ever since that cheesy school dance. I’m in love with you. She looks angelic; she’s still breathing heavily from our little chase, but she’s smiling, looking up at the sky. Her hair is cascading all over her shoulders and I can’t help but twirl a strand around my finger. When I do this she turns her head, locking eyes with me, and the right side of her mouth curves into a soft smile. She has looked at me thousands of times, but this time feels different. There is different energy between us tonight and I can’t tell if she’s feeling it too. I have to look back up at the stars to give myself a little sense of relief.  

This hill under the night stars has always been our spot. Here I held her while she cried about her parent’s divorce and she listened while I told her about the planets. It has been our escape from reality since we discovered it in sixth grade. This hill has always been a place of friendship and my secret love for her.  

That little voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to do something. She’s sitting right next to you, just fucking do it already. I go to look at her again because just maybe I won’t back out this time. But when I turn my head I find that she’s already looking at me. Shivers run down my spine. Okay, I can do this. I go to open my mouth, but instead of hearing my own voice, I hear hers. “Ryder,” 

She pauses for what feels like an eternity. “I’m in love with you.” 

In a matter of seconds my heart stopped, oxygen was sucked out of my lungs, and the world froze. I have dreamed for years of hearing those words come out of Finley’s mouth, and now I’m in so much shock that I can’t speak, I can’t breathe, I can’t move.  

She must see the surprise on my face because she sits up and keeps talking, “And I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I mean, we’re best friends. We’ve been best friends since elementary school. You’re probably thinking ‘I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship’, which is totally understandable. But, god Ryder, I’m so insanely in love with you. You are so damn smart and not just book-wise, you give me the best advice I’ve ever heard. Like seriously, you should think about being a therapist. And you make me laugh with your dumb dad jokes and goofy impressions. Don’t even get me started on your face, there aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how perfect it is. I just…” 

If I let her keep talking, she’s going to spiral into a panic attack. So for once, I force the little anxious voice in my head to shut the fuck up and I do the one thing I’ve been longing to do for years. I kiss her.