The Boy Who Killed Grant Parker by Kat Spears Page B

conspicuous outsider. The old Sesame Street chant played in my mind: One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong.… I was the other.
    While everyone gathered around the campfire, I sat with my legs hanging off the tailgate of Grant’s truck and contemplated the size of the sky. It was as if I had gone my whole life without ever really seeing the sky before. In the city you can see only patches of sky between the rooflines, and even with a long view of the horizon, the city is so clogged with buildings and cars and bridges and exhaust fumes, the sky is only a backdrop.
    But here, I was overwhelmed by the immensity of the sky, the horizon broken only by the rolling pastureland. Stars struggled against the gauze of the thin, low-hanging clouds. Though the moon was only a crescent sliver, the full roundness of its dark side was visible from where I sat, small and insignificant, on the Chevy truck.
    I was on my second beer, and the alcohol was traveling quickly to my head. I wasn’t drunk, but I felt a pleasant buzz, just enough to make me want to hurry up and finish the second beer so I could crack a third, knowing the first few sips would be cold and crisp.
    The noise of the others talking and laughing faded into the background as I continued to study the sky, wishing that I knew something about constellations so I could read the stars. As I sat in comfortable silence, Penny settled into the seat beside me and offered me an unopened beer.
    â€œThanks,” I said with a smile. “I was just thinking I would like another one, but I didn’t feel like getting up.”
    The smile she gave me was partially hidden by a curtain of wavy blond hair that glowed even in the dim light cast by the moon and the campfire. “What are you doing?” she asked.
    â€œLooking at the stars,” I said as I turned back to the beauty of them, which had paled slightly in comparison to Penny’s smile. “I just realized that back home I never really see the sky. Not like this. At night you see only streetlights and lighted buildings. In the city we’ve built up these walls around us, as if we aren’t part of nature, as if we’re somehow stronger than nature. Here—” I stopped suddenly as I realized I was babbling. I took a quick drink from my beer to cover my awkwardness.
    â€œWhat were you going to say?” Penny asked as she gave my knee a nudge with the side of her hand.
    â€œNothing,” I said with a self-conscious chuckle.
    â€œNo, really. Tell me. I want to know.”
    I shook my head but finally said, “I don’t know. Here I feel so insignificant. Almost like you have to believe in a higher power because how else could you explain all of this.” I waved vaguely at the sky and moon above us.
    â€œI guess I never really think about it,” she said, her voice soft. “But it’s a real pretty thought.” As she said this she shifted a little closer to me. It wasn’t anything obvious, almost as if she was just resettling in her seat to get comfortable, but I was aware that now her hip and shoulder were touching mine. I became acutely aware of my posture and that my underarms were slimy with sweat. “Most people I know don’t think about a world outside of Ashland,” she said, her gaze still turned up to the sky.
    â€œWhat about you?” I asked.
    She laughed in a self-conscious way and rubbed her hands together as if to warm them. “I think about getting out of Ashland all the time. Leaving everyone and everything I know behind. But then I think…” She paused, and the silence dragged on for so long that I didn’t think she was going to finish the thought.
    â€œBut then you think what?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “What would I do? Where would I go? How would I make new friends?”
    â€œYou’ve just summed up my entire life,”