Even though there was not as much partying as normal we all were worried and drilled about Maria. S’mores just weren’t quite the same without Maria – as usual—dropping the marshmallow in the fire a couple times. Well the good news is her mom said she’d be released tomorrow after making sure no infection set in.

      The fire had a certain mystery about it tonight. Blame it on the drama, blame it on the fact that Chris had his hand around my waist again, blame it on the very yellow harvest moon. Whatever it was something about this night felt off not necessarily bad, not really good either just . . . just off.

      “Howww haha howwwel,” echoed the plains’ infinite, open, space.

      Shivers crawled along the course of my spine. Something about that howl seemed wrong abnormal . . . unnatural. I shook the feeling at least to a point and looked over at Chris. He always seemed to calm me down even now his slightly wavered face set me at easy.

      He looked at me with those vibrant yellowy eyes I love so much. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the chill of the wind, or were they? He was looking at me so intensely, I almost felt intimidated. Then he ran his hand over mine, not grabbing for it just stroking my knuckles with his fingertips. Now I was red and it sure wasn’t the wind. 
      The bonfire grew faintly, almost as if it read me and my emotions as my face got rosier, and tried to help disguise it. He was looking at me hard but not harsh, expectant but not incriminatingly, with longing but not sheepishly, brotherly but with more. I felt myself lean into him my head found his shoulder and his arm hugged my waist a little tighter. I looked up at him and he smiled in a way I’ve never seen before. For that moment Chris and I were the only people around this campfire, the other eight teens seemed to melt into the background. This expression was new but familiar. A softer look came into his eyes, an almost unnoticeable increase in his smile, a much more flushed complexion. I don’t know this for sure but I think it’s the face of a boy in love. He shifted slightly on the log, I couldn’t resist the urge anymore and reached for his right hand (you know the one not on my waist), but before I grabbed it. . . .

      “Chris! John he’s hurt!” cried MaryAnn, my neighbor from a quarter of a mile down the road.

       “What?!” he exclaimed leaping out of his seat nearly sending me backwards.

      “Yeah Paul and I were heading over here and we found him about 4 feet into the woods between your and Mr. Jamison’s properties.”
     
     “So where is he now?”
     
     “Paul and my dad took him up to the doc’s place. He said the cuts were pretty deep --much more so than Maria’s—so he was rushed up to County Med.”

    “So will he be okay?” asked Chris his voice flickering between fear and sheer terror.

    I hung on his arm for support as much as comfort. Two friends in one night, that can’t be a good thing; my knees felt like jello. As I sobbed into his shoulder he hugged mine and we walked back up the hill to his old beat up ’74 Chevy, bound for the Med. Center.