Page 58 of We're At It Again

Maya clapped her hands together.

“That’s the spirit! Now go get your guy!”

As we continued to chat and plan, I felt a newfound determination building within me. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was ready to take the risk.

?

My heartbeat echoed in my eardrums as I hovered outside the doorway of Hudson’s room. Gathering my courage, I knocked.

“Come in.” His voice called from inside.

I pushed the door open and found him lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, staring at his ceiling. As soon as he saw me, he shot upright.

“Your dad let me in.” I said, breaking the awkward silence that hung between us.

He nodded. Tension mounted in the room, with neither of us knowing how to proceed. I bit my lip before speaking.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He replied without hesitation, though his eyes were still apprehensive.

“I want to take you somewhere.” I said, my voice firm yet gentle.

He nodded and followed me out to my car without question. The drive was excruciating, as neither of us knew how to break the tension. We ventured into the darkened park.

The night was serene as we exited the vehicle, our breath visible in the crisp winter air. I grabbed a shovel from my trunk. Hudson raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked, lightening the mood.

I delivered a playful glare.

“I’ve thought about it many times.”

He laughed, the sound easing some of the tension as we ventured further into the park. We stopped until we reached a small oak tree. His eyes sparkled with recognition.

“I forgot about this place.” He said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“Me too,” I admitted. “Until I remembered that today is ten years.”

“Do you think it’s still there?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He took the shovel from me and dug with deliberate and precise movements. It took a few digs until the shovel hit something solid. He continued digging around it until he earthed a small, weathered treasure box. We kneeled beside it, our breaths misting in the cool night air. We opened it.

Inside were relics of our childhood: small toys, trinkets, and notes that brought back a flood of memories. Our eight-year-old selves agreed to write letters for us to uncover in the future. We thought we were so clever coming up with it.

I reached inside, pulling out a small, faded photograph of the two of us, grinning ear to ear, covered in mud. The Snow White dress.

“Ah, the day your nickname was born.” He said, looking at it over my shoulder.

“Everyone forgot about it, but you.”

He chuckled, taking the photo from me.

“It’s because you made it so easy for me to annoy you.”

He gave it back to me before rummaging in the box again. I admired the photograph, shocked at how much had changed between us. But it was easy to fall back into nostalgia with Hudson. As if we never parted ways. Next, he pulled out my stuffed bear. I gasped as I yanked it out of his hand and held it to my chest.

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