Part Seven

The park I specified to Tristin was the playground I had ran to during the chase. I haven’t been there since I was a toddler, and the land owners have since changed the whole structure. In broad daylight, I knew it could be just another playground to me.

“Hey James, you made it,” Tristin said with a smile as I strolled towards the park. I smiled back at him as I thought about the area. The smile was at first just a wince, an automatic response. But as the memories stayed suppressed, it became more sincere.

“How's the world been treatin' ya?” he asked playfully. “Are your fifteen minutes of fame over yet?”

“I hope so,” I answered. “I don't seem to have any stalkers as of today, so I should be fine.” I gave him a full on grin with the joke and he laughed. It felt good to joke around again, especially about something that had been bugging me all day. Tristin had that trick about him; I was myself around him.

“So what do you want to do?” I asked.

“Arcade? My dad just gave me a bucket-load of coins and said, 'If you wanna make friends, you will go to the arcade and play Pacman until your score is as good as mine!'”

I laughed at Tristin's impersonation of his father.

 It really felt good to laugh.

And so we were off, first to Tristin's house to pick up the change (he really DID have a bucket! We only took a small bag-full), then into town to spend all those monies.

“You know,” I started while we raced through city streets an hour later, “I haven't actually been to an arcade.”

Tristin gaped at me. He didn't look away until his car crashed into a department store.

 “Yeah,” I continued. “I've played some of them, but only because we own one of those Atari game controllers.”

“How did you get through life until now?” Tristin asked with a voice full of shock. “My dad shoved the arcade-life down my throat like it was air.”

I smiled. “My brother and I usually did stuff outside together. Back when we were little, we played with Thomas Trains all the time.”

“You're more of the sportsy kind, then?”

“Well, not exactly. Our dad taught us bits and pieces of all kinds of combat for a long time. He traveled, and still travels, a lot, and sometimes told us stories.”

“Hah! I won!” Tristin exclaimed at the end of the race. “Wanna go again?”

“Sure! This is the only driving we'll have for three more years.”

Tristin laughed. “Oh yeah. I've never thought of it that way. Hey, see if you can beat me this time!”



I lost.

Again.