“Folie à deux,” they called it. “A madness shared by two.” They were right.It would have taken a crowbar to separate us.
It wasn’t one of those “our eyes met from across the room,” cheesy kind of meeting. We were both fans of the same book-turned-movie franchise, “Wizard and Warlocks.” From that, we started our own fan club at school, and the hours we put in together drew us together as friends. Sometimes I’d dress up as Balthazar the Great, him in Francis’s costume and we’d spend hours battling to the death in his backyard. Although, he’d kill me if he knew that I told you that.
Elliot could never sit in one place for long enough to relax – he always wanted to go build a go-kart, go to the beach in the middle of winter, or try and bungee jump off the top of his mother’s roof. To say the least, he liked to take a risk here or there He enjoyed the exhilaration and the adrenalin rush he felt from the danger. He even enjoyed the pain from time to time. He was excited. Fidgety. And a little bit scary. That’s who he was and I wasn’t going to try and change him. I was always there for him, watching from the ground, first-aid kit in hand. At the end of the day, I’d bandage his bloody arm and we’d walk to the convenience store, laughing all the way there. I was his rock.
I remember when we were about 13, foolish and ignorant. We’d reached that phase in life where we thought we were Superman. We had done some pretty stupid things: climbed trees and jumped out of them, ran through the middle of traffic, tried to climb a billboard. But on this day, for some reason, we were extra stupid.
It was the middle of November and summer was in full bloom. Moving an inch would make you sticky,sweaty, silly.. This day was expected to be one of the hottest in 40 yearsweather Elliot and I were never accustomed to. We were stuck in the middle of Geography with Mr. Karman blaring on about longitudes and latitudes when we both felt it. We couldn’t handle the heat any longer. Our shirts...