Like most things, the summer ended. Boy Evergreen and Boy Blackberry got back into their parents’ cars, with a lot of their clothes, and drove back to the school surrounded by corn. Although Boy Blackberry hadn’t forgotten of the grey-blue feelings he had felt at this school during last year, he felt happy because he would be living in a room that was connected to Boy Evergreen’s room. The two rooms shared one bathroom. Boy Blackberry felt happy because no matter what time of day or night, or which color he felt, if Boy Evergreen laughed, Boy Blackberry could hear.
Around Two-Hundred and Forty moons had come and gone. Boy Evergreen and Boy Blackberry drove to and from the school surrounded by corn for long weekends, fall, winter, and spring breaks. Long car rides are great for both sitting and laughing. Whenever they would arrive back at school though, grey-blue feelings would find Boy Blackberry. He did not know this at the time, but the weight of Two-Hundred and Forty moons’ worth of grey-blue feelings was too much for his shoulders and back to carry alone. Since his back was usually hunched over, Boy Blackberry sometimes forgot about Boy Evergreen, his laugh’s light, and how they had once learned how to play. Boy Blackberry began to spend as much time as possible sleeping, breathing in the smoke of roll-your-own cigarettes, and drinking his latest crush: coffee.
Boy Evergreen did not at all like way the smell of sleep, smoke, and coffee combined within his nostrils. Since Boy Blackberry usually smelled like this, Boy Evergreen spent more time with other friends. Though, whenever Boy Blackberry would take a shower and smell good, he and Boy Evergreen would sit together and laugh as though they had seen only Twenty-Four moons. Then they would remember that they were close friends, maybe best friends.
At this time however, the pinecone in Boy Blackberry’s mind hurt almost all of the time. His pinecone told him in waking and sleeping hours that he should move far, far away from home and the school surrounded by corn. It even told him to move past the land of Paul McCartney. There, the pinecone told Boy Blackberry, he could gaze to his hearts content upon the foreign tongue which he had studied for all these years.
Boy Blackberry loved the sounds this foreign tongue made. He had even been practicing making those sounds himself. Boy Blackberry felt good about the sounds he could make. They filled his ears with a noise that reminded him more of Jazz Band than of Legos. His mind’s pinecone spoke, and so Boy Blackberry listened. It said “Move”, and so he did.
When school decided it was over once again, Boy Blackberry and Boy Evergreen drove back home together for the very last time. Never again would Boy Blackberry and Boy Evergreen attend the same school. Boy Blackberry wouldn’t even walk across a line when his name was called at the same time Boy Evergreen would. Boy Blackberry felt sad, but he wanted his mind’s pinecone to stop hurting.
After another summer of making music that sounded like playing with Legos, work, inhaling the smoke of funny green pinecones, and not spending too much time with his friend of Two-Hundred and Sixteen moons, Boy Blackberry packed some of his clothes into bags, got on an airplane, and moved to the land of foreign tongues.
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