Maps (6 page)

Lane took his baseball hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing some of the snow off the back. Maps noticed that with the sun reflecting off the snow onto Lane’s hair, it looked even paler.

“Well, I am a kid compared to you, Old Man Rhodes.”

“I’m only a year older than you.”

“You’re practically ancient! Withering away into oblivion, I’d say.” A sardonic grin twitched at Maps’ mouth.

“Come on,” Lane said, standing back up. “Let’s actually try this time.”

And that’s how it started—Maps’ hidden love of baseball. Every time after Maps finished explaining exponents and trig basics, Lane and Maps played catch. The first couple of times, Maps grumbled and kicked his toes into the ground. Baseball was dumb, a waste of time, and he wasn’t being used to his full potential.

But then that softball would glide over to him and it would’ve taken an earthquake to stop Maps from reaching out and grabbing for it.

* * * *

“Well, you look ridiculous,” Benji said.

He was smirking, giving Maps an up-and-down look that reeked of not-so-subtle mockery.

“Benji, you’re dressed like a
flower
,” Maps replied, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but it suits me. Beautiful petals, elegant stems, handsome leaves. I think I should start dressing like this on a daily basis.”

Maps tried not to laugh and go along with the joke. “You’re right. I look stupid dressed like a scientist, but you, dear Benji, are truly bringing out your inner beauty in that flower costume. I feel like this might be a life altering experience for you.”

“Finally, you listen to what I’m saying.” Benji took his petal hand and fluffed up one of the bright pink petals near his face.

That’s when Maps lost it. He doubled over laughing, holding his stomach, not caring if his glasses fell off his face and his fake moustache came unglued.

Benji didn’t give up the act; his entire body was covered in a green lyrca bodysuit with giant green leaves glued onto his hands. Around his face were big, pink petals that stood out straight from the wiring around the edges.

And of course, his face was painted yellow with rosy little red dots on his cheeks.

Maps and Benji were partners in Bio and for their upcoming presentation, they’d chosen to explain how photosynthesis worked. And naturally, one of them
had
to dress up as a flower to do so. It went without saying, really, that no one would pay their presentation any mind unless they played the part.

They were standing outside of the classroom in the mostly vacant hallway, waiting for their turn to present that project.

While Benji was dressed in his lovely flower costume, Maps was, naturally, dressed like a scientist, lab coat and fake, bristly mustache included. He even had a fake goatee glued to the bottom of his face, and a pointer stick to point at the different petals around his best friend’s face.

“Nice petals, loser!” someone yelled from down the hallway.

“Buzz off!” Benji yelled back. “I have no interest in you trying to pollinate me.”

Benji whipped back around and folded his arms, sticking his yellow face up in the air with a
hmph!
sound.

The guy didn’t look happy, but his friends looked like they wanted to laugh. Maps tried not to snort for fear of being pummeled into oblivion by someone who looked a few pounds shy of a wild boar.

“Hey!” someone new said, pushing through the group of guys standing next to the lockers.

“Hey,” Maps replied, his mouth going dry. It must’ve been thinking of their presentation that made his mouth go dry. That had to be it.

“Sorry about my friend,” Lane said, looking back and forth between Benji the flower and Maps the scientist. “He’s just being a jerk because he flunked his math test this morning.”

Maps was, to say the least, shocked that Lane would not only seek him out at school, but in front of his jock buddies none the less.

Maps glanced at Benji, and noticed he looked surprised as well.

Lane was older than them, cooler than them, and definitely more popular than them. For some reason, the small gesture made Maps stare down at his feet and wiggle his toes inside his shoes.

“Cute, uh, costume,” Lane said quietly.

“Thanks,” Benji replied automatically.

Lane looked away from Maps and over to Benji. Benji met his gaze.

Lane turned red.

Maps turned even redder.

Benji turned the reddest.

“Well,” Benji said, “that’s my cue to hurl my body off a cliff.”

He walked away from Lane and Maps and toward the water fountain. They still had about ten minutes until their presentation and Benji wouldn’t be late.

Lane scratched the back of his neck. He looked around nervously, but his friends had already left.

“I found something,” Lane said. “And when I saw it, I thought of you. Well, not of you. I thought you might like to put it on your wall. You know, because of the… stuff.”

Maps swallowed hard. “Right. Because of the stuff.”

“Here,” Lane said, hastily shoving a folded piece of paper into Maps hands. “My team schedule changed, and I can’t make it to tutoring tomorrow, but I was hoping the day after works for you.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Maps just kept staring at Lane while he held the piece of paper in his hands, too nervous to even look down at it.

“Okay, cool. Cool. Well, I’ve got to go.” Without saying goodbye, Lane darted away.

Maps watched him go, waiting a few seconds to make sure no one was around when he checked the piece of paper. He didn’t want anyone to see him open it, not because he was excited or anything, but mostly because he didn’t want to risk anyone getting too close, just in case the paper happened to slip out of his hands and give someone a nasty paper cut.

At first, Maps had no idea what he was looking at.

Well, that wasn’t true. What he held in his hands was a map, obviously, but he had no idea why Lane had given him a map. Carefully, making sure not to tear anything, Maps unfolded the map and when he finally saw what it was his jaw dropped.

Literally dropped.

His fake goatee, somehow sensing Maps’ abnormal shock, decided to make a break for it and flutter to the ground.

But Maps didn’t care. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the map he held in his hands.

It was a map of their city, a current one from the same year. But what made this map special were the highlighted marks all over it. Lane had found every single lane on the map that lead to Maps’ house, and highlighted each one of them—Pemberbrooke Lane, Teller Lane, Kensington Lane. They were lit up like little yellow veins, all leading back to Maps’ house, which was colored over in highlighter with a smiley face.

And in the bottom corner of the map, right next to the legend, was a hand written note.

If you ever get lost, just follow the lane, and you’ll find your way home.

“I’m going to hurl. I swear to god, Maps, I’m going to barf all over you,” Benji said.

Maps snapped his head up and looked at his best friend. He hadn’t even noticed that Benji had returned from his trip to toss his body off a cliff.

Then Benji began making vomiting noises, sticking his finger in his gaping mouth. “Seriously Maps, that’s like something from a chick movie.”

“Shut up,” Maps said, but huge grin refused to leave his face, no matter how hard he tried. Not that he tried all that hard.

Maps very carefully folded the map and tucked it neatly into the back pocket of his jeans. Benji must’ve noticed the smile on Maps’ face and the way he handled the map, because he decided to be extra annoying.

“Oh god, you two are going to adopt little babies and name them Avenue, Street, and Compass, aren’t you?” Benji whined.

“You do remember that my real name is Matthew and not Maps, right?”

“Who’s this
Matthew
you speak of? Never heard of him, but he sounds like a goober. Anyway, Maps, I have no idea why Lane would be interested in you. I mean, did he even get a good look at my petals? They are
ah-may-zing
!”

Benji put his hands on his hips and began to strut in circles around Maps.

Maps watched his best friend prance around, trying not to laugh. He took the map out of his back pocket and began running his fingers along the folded crease.

He didn’t know why Lane had given him such a touching gift. Maybe he was just trying to say thank you for the tutoring help that Maps had been giving him, or maybe he meant to as a token of friendship.

Well, whatever the reason behind it, Maps knew that of all the things he had on his wall, this map from Lane was going to be his favorite.

“Maps!”

Maps shot out of bed like a fish suddenly thrown into a bucket of water with a toaster. He glanced over at the clock, noting that it was a little past midnight. Before walking over to the window to see what Lane was screeching about, he took his glasses from his bedside table and planted them on his face. Maps figured it was Lane—no one else was crazy enough to climb up the side of the house and call out his name in the middle of the night.

“What is it?” Maps said in a hushed tone as he lifted up the window so Lane could crawl through.

“We won,” Lane announced after climbing through the window. He put his hands firmly on his hips and tilted his chin up as though he’d just been knighted.

Maps folded his arms across his chest. “What did you win? The lottery? The Nobel Peace Price? Something from a cereal box?”

“Better. We won the first baseball game of the season!” Lane cast his hands into the air like one of those flailing balloon men car dealerships put in their lots.

“And that’s better than winning the lottery?”

“To me it is. All I’ve ever wanted is to play ball, and after moving here, I’m finally on a good team—a really good team—and that’s worth its weight in gold.”

“But if you won the lottery, you could buy your own baseball team. You could even name them the Lane-di-doodle’s, if you wanted.”

“You’re missing the point, Maps.” The bright smile on Lane’s face faded, and Maps felt like he’d just played soccer with a puppy.

“That’s great, Lane—really. I’m happy for you. I’ve seen you throw a ball, remember, and you almost lobbed my head off a time or two.”

Maps sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at Lane. The lights from the street were shining in through his window, and the moon was casting a long shadow on the floor in front of Lane. Maps hadn’t noticed before, but Lane was still wearing his dirty baseball uniform: the snug white pants, the thinly-striped red and white button-up shirt, even the red baseball cap with a decorative letter H on the front. But then it was all Maps could look at, all he could think about. His entire universe shrunk into a singular question: How did Lane even fit into those little pants?

Lane’s face lit up again. “Thanks. The move has been hard on my whole family. Stacie cried for days, Mom didn’t want to move at first, and my dad has been so stressed out with uprooting the family. Moving out of my home state, away from my friends, and my old team has been really tough. I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here at all, and I wouldn’t meet any new friends.”

“You look like you have a lot of friends at school.”

Lane shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. It’s better now that Stacie’s older. When she was younger, I’d have to watch her all the time because Mom and Dad were always working. I’ll admit, I wasn’t always the best babysitter. We think that’s why she runs a little rampant now.”

“Well, thanks for that. I’ve suffered the repercussions of your apathetic youth,” Maps said. He was joking though.

Mostly.

Maps leaned back on the bed, supporting himself on his elbows. “So, what’s next for America’s Sweetheart, Lane Rhodes? You’re already on your way to becoming an All-Star baseball player, and your grades are improving. What next—the moon?”

For the first time since he’d arrived, Lane looked away from Maps and studied the pieces of paper on the wall nearest him. His hands were laced together behind his back and he was standing up straight, which only made Maps take more notice of how tall and broad he was.

“I don’t know,” Lane said. “Maybe meet a nice girl or something. Isn’t that what boys like me are supposed to do?”

Maps’ throat dried up within a fraction of a second. Of course Lane would meet a nice girl. It only made sense. In fact, Maps should probably think about doing that as well. But at that moment, Maps couldn’t seem to think of anything besides Lane’s grass-stained pants, let alone the whole
girl
thing.

“I wouldn’t know, Lane,” Maps said quietly. “I’m not exactly a boy like you.”

Lane turned around and looked at Maps in silence. After a few moments, he walked over to the edge of the bed, right in front of Maps, pulled his red ball cap off by the brim, and then carefully fit it on Maps’ head.

“No. You really aren’t like anyone else, Maps.”

And with that, Lane walked back over to the window, said goodnight, and crawled out, leaving Maps’ racing heart and the red baseball cap behind.

* * * *

“What are you doing?” some kind of devil-creature screeched.

Maps fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, accidentally ripping one off. He placed his hand over his head and looked through his open bedroom window into Lane’s bedroom window next door.

“Don’t scare me like that, Stacie!” Maps hollered back.

“My name’s not Stacie! It’s Princess Madame Sprinkle!”

“Fine, Your Majesty. What are you doing over there in Lane’s room, anyway?”

Stacie ignored his question. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he answered. He took off the button up shirt and tossed it on the ground.

“Then why are you dressing up like when my mommy and daddy go out to dinner?”

Maps bristled. “I am
not
dressing up!”

“Yes you are! Are you going to wear lipstick like my mommy?”

“Oh my god,” Maps mumbled to himself.

He was not dressing up or primping himself. If fact, he didn’t even care what he looked like. Maps stood in front of his stand-up mirror and hastily ruffled up his hair just to prove it .