This Is Where the World Ends by Amy Zhang Page A

from when the quarry still had granite, so the rocks range from pebble to pet sized, and on that day when we were ten years old and the sun was everywhere and that moment was all that mattered, we stopped our bikes at the bottom and looked up and up and up.
    â€œJanie? What are you—”
    I was already climbing, or at least I was trying. The pebbles looked steady from the ground, but they started to crumble as soon as I started climbing, and I was back on the ground within a few seconds, probably, but they were worth it.
    â€œOh my god,” I said, my voice all hushed and awed because there was something holy about the pile of rocks but also because I was still breathless from the fall. “It’slike a metaphor for our lives, Micah. Wait—that’s perfect! The Metaphor for Our Lives. That’s what we’ll call it!”
    â€œWhat?”
    We had just learned about metaphors that day, and Micah clearly hadn’t been paying attention. I was obsessed. I wrote a whole page of them in my notebook and didn’t listen while the teacher explained why they were useful, because some things should just be beautiful and useless.
    I ticked them off. “Metaphor one: it’s impossible to climb. Inevitably, you end up on the ground with your breath knocked out of you. Metaphor two: see these?” I picked up a rock and held it up to him, but when he reached for it, I retracted my hand. I didn’t actually want to let go of it. I put it in my pocket. (Later, I’d write a Virginia Woolf quote on it: Fear no more. In case you doubted that this was the beginning of everything.) “See how smooth they are? Smooth and all the same, like thoughts that people kick around until they’re smooth and all the same. Metaphor three—”
    â€œThey’re not all the same,” Micah argued, squatting and squinting at the base of the Metaphor. “You’re just not looking close enough. Most of them aren’t even the same size.”
    â€œYou’re ruining my moment,” I said, and we argued back and forth like we still do, and we never did get to the thirdMetaphor. But the point is that that was the first time I climbed and fell off the Metaphor, that was the first time I had a rock in my pocket, that was the first time we were really and truly free and alive and us. We were born that day.
    I kick my calc stuff aside and get to my feet and start climbing again. I was going to wait for Micah, but I can’t stand it any longer. Climbing is always the first and last thing I do here. One of these days, I’ll get to the top. I will. But today I’m only a few feet up when I finally hear Micah pull up. His door slams, and I hop back onto even ground before the Metaphor can throw me.
    â€œLate much?” I ask him as he comes toward me. He has a piece of paper crumpled in his fist. I frown. “What is that?”
    â€œThis? This is a goddamn speeding ticket,” he snaps. “You rushed ahead and almost killed a fourth grader and got the attention of every grandma in Waldo, and now I have to pay a fucking two hundred dollar fine for speeding .”
    I shrug. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you drove faster.”
    He throws his hands in the air. “That doesn’t even make sense! Janie, I’m serious, I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to pay for this and my dad is going to kill me—”
    â€œOh, don’t be a drama queen, Micah,” I say, waving the ticket away. “You still have money from Pizza Rancheroo.”
    â€œGod dammit, Janie, this happens every single fucking time! You get away with shitloads and I’m left with—”
    â€œShhhhh,” I say, throwing back my head. “Micah. Hey, Micah. Look at that.”
    He looks up without thinking and squints. “What?” He still sounds annoyed. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
    â€œNothing. Just the sky. Isn’t it