Friends

PART TWENTY-TWO: CHAMBER

February 27, 1998, Friday

Harry wished himself good luck after mentioning that he would test out for a driver's license. Smooth as the wind flows, the time has come. Today is the day, all of us are there for his special day. Except for Jade, who is with her dad to be on their special day.

"Go get them, son," Mr. Golding said to Wayne as soon as we stepped out of his car, rolling down his window. "Thanks, Dad. Wish me luck," he replied. That's some real power of family.

"Charlie, Wayne, you should come take this with me. I don't want to be alone," Harry said with a glimpse of worry on his face. Wayne shakes his head, "I cannot make another mistake, you know what happened in the last incident."

"The one where you drove off your father's vehicle just for you to stop in the middle of the road because your senseless mind didn't notice the tank wasn't full," Fiona said, looking at her fingernails.

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah." He turned his eyes to me, "Charlie, do you want to get your license with him?"

"Sure. I'll do it with you, Harry."

"There's the giddy inside of you," Fiona said to Harry as she saw his lips curled up.

Both of us took our time inside the testing center for our license, while the others stood beside the sun and watched us. I went through too many obstacles and Harry went through too many malfunctions. After the sun fell, the two of us saw our fate. Too much time had passed in our hands, and both of us failed to get our driver's license but the first try isn't always the best. We're too young, being young is never enough. Trying out won't also be enough; limited materials won't be sufficient as years pass by.

Jade's gotten her freedom and we celebrated with ice cream after what a horrid morning that was. We ended up smearing everyone's faces in different flavors.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, "My face smells like chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. God, what else do you have there?"

Harry laughed as he was the one who started it, "Rode, that's fine. We're all covered in ice cream" He smeared his chocolate ice cream on my right cheek. I wanted revenge and did the same thing to him.

"The only problem is that our faces will be all moisturized," Jade said, her appearance dirty as mud.

"That's why I'm doing this as much as possible to Harry's face. Pass that to me," Fiona said to Harry as they conveyed their ice creams. "Don't run. Harry, give that back," she yelled, as Harry took steps backward.

The two of them chased each other through the night like two mice. The sunset faded to purple. The colors are becoming different; it's unusual. Could the day be more convenient for our faces to be like this? I started writing in my journal as I went home. All the entries that filled my heart up to now, I hope to use these pages shortly. If I can.

***

February 28, 1998, Saturday

I endured too little sleep last night, trying to figure out how to construct my essay. On the upcoming Monday, all of us had to turn in our prestigious essays. With the assigned general topic, "Who do you aspire to be?" I have an answer to that question. Only one, to be a writer. I took down notes on the important hooks I wanted to inscribe—becoming this aspiration I aspire to be even when the people who created me don't support the idea of me.

As I decided whether to finish everything in the interior household or the exterior household, I began to roam outside the metallic gate. I tried visiting the nearby garden, as I saw a big golden fountain peaking outside. I commemorate the details of the fountain as there were lily pads all over the water fountain. Beauty avenges this whole garden, daisy here in the arc of a gate, orchid over there in the corner of the stepping stones. I envisioned I was left with an afterglow.

Dreams that I have fallen apart may not be omnipresent but mean everything to the fountains of my heart. As I rode towards the path of my aspirations, I searched for the deep meaning inside the well of me. Being a writer opens up a new dimension of chambers in my heart. After all, words ignite emotions. I started to fill out every line that I could find within this grace of embodiment.

I continue to write beside the flowers; violet-colored petals and a vigorous yellow center. I am saved by this gaze. I can't identify flowers by their shape but I can be perceptive to their smell. It's filling this whole area. I may be beneath the tall tree that covers the shadow of the sun's rays but I contemplated my aspirations. As I finished writing the draft of the essay, I walked back home, meticulously to not trample on the flowers lying on the ground.