The Space Between Friends

The group started walking. Eli stayed beside Stanley, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The weeds brushed his jeans, leaving cool damp streaks against the fabric. Somewhere beyond the cabins, a loose piece of metal banged again and again.

“Remember the ditch?” one of the juniors asked.

“The one Stanley fell into?” another said.

Stanley looked down at the path. “I didn’t fall.”

“You stepped backward into it.”

“That’s falling.”

The juniors laughed. Eli smiled, though he did not understand the whole story.

They turned behind the mess hall. The ground dipped, and the path narrowed between two rows of scrub. Stanley stepped over a fallen branch without looking. Eli followed, catching his shoe on the bark.

“You all right?” Stanley asked.

“Fine.”

The others had not stopped. Their voices carried ahead, loose and easy. Eli pushed faster until he reached Stanley again.

“You remember this part?” Stanley asked.

“No.”

“It used to have a fence.”

“What happened to it?”

Stanley shrugged. “Probably got tired.”

Eli laughed. Stanley’s mouth lifted for half a second, and Eli felt the small bright relief of having reached him. He wanted more of that. He wanted to walk beside Stanley and have the path feel like it belonged to him too.

At the edge of the trees, the trail became steep. The juniors climbed without speaking, grabbing low branches and stepping onto exposed roots. Eli followed Stanley so closely that when Stanley stopped suddenly, Eli nearly walked into him.

“Sorry,” Eli said.

Stanley glanced back. “You can go around.”

Eli moved to the side, but there was barely room. His shoulder scraped against a tree trunk. The bark caught his shirt.

“Careful,” Stanley said.

“I am.”

A junior above them looked down. “He’s attached to you, Stanley.”

The words were said lightly. The others laughed.

Eli’s hand slipped from the branch.

Stanley frowned. “Leave him alone.”

“I’m just saying,” the junior replied. “Every time I look back, he’s right there.”

Eli climbed faster. Loose dirt slid beneath his shoes and pattered down the slope. By the time he reached the top, his palms were gritty and his breath came hard.

The juniors stood near a clearing, waiting beside an old water tank. Their faces turned toward him together.

“See?” the same junior said. “He made it.”

Eli wiped his hands on his jeans. “Where else would I go?”

Nobody answered right away.

Stanley looked toward the trees. “The lake’s this way.”

He started walking again. Eli followed, but this time he left a few feet between them.

The distance felt worse than the teasing.

The path wound between the trees, and the camp disappeared behind them. Branches clicked overhead. Sunlight broke through in thin white strips that shifted across Stanley’s back. Eli kept his eyes on those strips, trying not to fall behind.

The juniors talked about things that had happened before Eli arrived. Names he did not know came up and vanished. One story made everyone laugh except Stanley, who only shook his head.

Eli tried to listen without asking questions. Then the trail forked.

The juniors took the left path immediately.

Eli stopped. “Which way?”

No one heard him.

He looked at Stanley’s backpack, already several steps away. The right path was wider, but it vanished behind a stand of thorn bushes. The left was narrow and dark.

“Stanley.”

Stanley turned.

Eli jogged toward him. The others waited farther ahead, their faces turned toward the lake.

“You coming?” Stanley asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then come on.”

Eli stepped onto the left path. A thorn snagged his sleeve. He pulled free and hurried after Stanley, but the juniors had started moving again. Their voices grew quieter.

“Slow down,” Eli called.

One of them glanced back. “We’re not even going fast.”

Eli said nothing. He focused on the ground. Roots crossed the path like knotted fingers. His ankle rolled once, and pain flashed up his leg. He caught himself against a tree.

Stanley stopped.

The others kept going until they noticed he was no longer with them.

“What now?” someone called.

“Eli twisted his ankle,” Stanley said.

“I didn’t,” Eli answered quickly.

Stanley looked at him. “You almost fell.”

“Almost isn’t the same.”

The junior who had teased him folded his arms. “Maybe he should stay with the little-kid trail.”

The words landed harder than Eli expected. He stared at the dirt between his shoes. The path seemed to narrow around him.

Stanley’s voice went flat. “Stop.”

The junior raised both hands. “All right.”

Nobody moved.

Eli could have asked Stanley to wait. He could have said he was tired or that the trail hurt. Instead, he stepped away from the tree.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go.”

Stanley studied him. “You sure?”

Eli nodded.

Stanley turned toward the others, then back again. For a moment, Eli thought he might stay. That hope made him angry. He did not want Stanley’s pity. He wanted to belong without needing to be carried along.

“I said go,” Eli repeated.

Stanley’s jaw tightened. “Then keep up.”

He walked on.

Eli followed.

The trail dropped sharply after the bend. The juniors moved down it with the confidence of people who had fallen there before and knew exactly where to place their feet. Eli tried to copy them. He grabbed branches, jumped over stones, and kept Stanley in sight.

At the bottom, the trees opened around the lake.

The water lay flat and brown beneath the afternoon sun. A broken dock reached into it, missing several boards. The juniors spread out along the shore, dropping their bags and talking over one another.

Eli arrived last.

His ankle ached. His sleeve hung loose where the thorn had torn it. He bent to pick up a stone and threw it into the lake. It struck the surface once and disappeared.

Stanley sat on the end of the dock. Eli climbed up beside him, leaving enough space for one person between them.

For a while, neither spoke.

“You didn’t have to follow us,” Stanley said.

Eli watched ripples widen across the water. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

He rubbed dirt from his palm. “Because you’re the only one who talks to me.”

Stanley looked at him.

Eli swallowed. “Not much. But you do.”

The dock creaked beneath them. From the shore came a burst of laughter, followed by the scrape of a backpack zipper.

Stanley looked out over the lake. “You can talk to them.”

“I try.”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m trying to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know everything.”

Eli picked at a splinter in the dock. “You do.”

Stanley gave him a sideways look. “No, I don’t.”

“You act like you do.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Stanley thought about it. “I’ve been here longer.”

The simple answer hurt because it was true.

Before Eli could reply, one of the juniors called from shore. “Stanley, are you bringing your shadow back, or is he staying on the dock?”

The others laughed again.

Eli’s face burned. He slid off the dock.

Stanley stood. “Eli’s coming with us.”

The junior grinned. “He always is.”

Eli wanted to disappear into the trees. Instead, he reached for Stanley’s backpack strap and caught it before Stanley could walk away.

“Wait,” Eli said.

Stanley turned.

Eli let go at once. “I can help carry something.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Stanley glanced toward the shore. The others were watching now, waiting to see what he would do.

After a moment, Stanley took off the smaller canvas bag tied to the side of his backpack. He held it out.

“Carry this.”

Eli took it. The strap was rough against his fingers, and the bag was heavier than it looked.

“What’s in it?” he asked.

“Rope.”

“Why do we need rope?”

Stanley started toward the trail. “You ask too many questions.”

Eli followed, this time with the bag pulling at his shoulder.

The juniors moved ahead, but Stanley stayed beside him. Eli matched his pace. The path was still steep, and his ankle still hurt, but the weight of the bag gave him something to do besides cling to Stanley’s presence.

At the first bend, Stanley slowed.

Not much. Just enough.

Eli noticed.

They climbed together. Behind them, the juniors began whispering. Their voices were low, but the trees carried sound strangely.

“Look at him,” one said.

“Stanley’s got himself a follower.”

“Clingy,” another answered.

Eli’s grip tightened around the rope bag.

Stanley heard them too. His shoulders stiffened, but he did not turn around.

At the top of the slope, the group stopped near the broken sign. Stanley reached for the bag.

“I’ll take it.”

Eli held on. “I can carry it.”

“I know.”

The others exchanged amused looks. Eli saw them clearly now: the raised eyebrows, the half-smiles, the way they leaned toward one another without saying the word again.

Stanley released the strap.

“Fine,” he said. “Stay with us.”

Eli nodded.

It was what he had wanted since he stepped through the gate. Stanley had let him join them. The path ahead was open, and nobody had told him to leave.

Still, when the juniors started walking, their glances followed him like quiet footsteps. Eli adjusted the rope bag on his shoulder and moved after Stanley, close enough to keep pace, but no longer close enough to pretend nobody noticed.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 8,957 words in the full book.