Free If You Knew Then What I Know Now by Ryan Van Meter

happen.
    â€œWell, look, I just want to say that what we did, it was stupid. I’m really sorry. We were just asshole kids.”
    You think it’s strange that you assumed you were the only boy hurt by that kiss in Mark’s bedroom. But you see that Jared carries that day with him like you do; he carries a shame not very different from yours. Somehow you’ve shared a scar this many years. You say to Jared that just knowing he remembers that afternoon is enough. He thanks you and grabs you again. On your shoulder his hand feels a little like the warmth of comfort, and a little like the squeeze of danger.

Youth Group

    I ’m sleeping against the van window when they all start gasping at the sight of the Rockies and wake me up. I squint in the sudden bright afternoon, looking for these mountains, but all I can see is a distant dark bulk. I’m in the last row of seats, crammed against the side of the passenger van because I’m sitting next to Aaron. He’s sprawled out like always, legs and giant sneakers spread across our row. And I know sitting anywhere else would be more comfortable but I always sit next to Aaron. In fact, I have to sit next to him because I’m in love with him. Though none of us has figured that out yet.
    I’m fourteen years old and there are twelve of us in the van—besides Aaron and me, seven other high school kids and three adult chaperones. This is our church youth group summer trip, and we’ve almost made it from Missouri to the campsite in Colorado where we’ll stay the week. I’m yawning as Aaron notices my nap is finished, and then punches my shoulder. The hit makes my arm feel dead for a few seconds until the throbbing begins—my pulse flaring right where a bruise will emerge tomorrow. “Mountains,” he says, pointing to the front of the van.

    â€œThank you so much.” I say it deadpan and rub my arm.
    Aaron is a year older than me. He’s tall and solid, a sophomore player on our school’s varsity football team. He’s going to be in the Army so he’s always wearing camouflage. The sun reaching into the van lights up the clear bristly hair that covers his chin, legs, and arms. He smiles and scratches his elbow near the spot where a spider almost killed him. A rare pleasure of mine is asking him to stab this spider scar with a knife; the tissue is so damaged and desiccated that even a blade can’t split it open. It’s his invincible spot, as though he’s Achilles in reverse. I love the story of the spider bite and when I’ve heard it and watched him press a knife into the scar, I’ve imagined his hospital stay, the deadly fevers, a doctor’s needle squirting antidote into his veins at the very last second. That Aaron, the weak, helpless one is so different from this one next to me, it’s almost as if part of him did die from the spider’s bite, leaving an Aaron I can marvel at, and be a little afraid of.
    â€œHere,” Gina says from the seat in front of us, handing me her paperback book. “I’m done with chapter six.” We’re sharing the same novel because I didn’t bring one. She reads a couple of chapters, then I catch up. It’s a book about married geneticists—the husband is sterile so he and his wife create a test-tube baby who mutates into an amazingly intelligent but psychotic toddler; the kid ages too quickly though and eventually tries to murder them. Sex and violence. It’s the best book I’ve ever read.

    I say thanks, and fan out the pages to find my chapter. Gina is the oldest of us. She’ll be a senior in high school this fall. Whenever I’m with her, I somehow feel younger than I actually am. She turns around in her seat and rests her chin on the back of it. “Aaron, come here,” she says. He leans his ear close to her mouth, she whispers something, and then he cups his hand around his mouth and whispers