Fourteen

You can only imagine.

After the bell rings, nobody cares about history or “the best possible answer” or the speech due tomorrow. The school door slams behind him, and at fourteen it’s Mountain Dew and the candy store and slow walks home where he talks big. Curses loud, trying on his size, your reminder that Words are power, use them wisely pushed aside. Until his best friend rams into him in fun, and soda spills on his brand new sweatshirt. The mother of all swear words flies, and yeah, he feels the power. They laugh; he grins, pelts his friend with a piece of sour candy and pops another in his mouth.

Tart and bittersweet. You can only imagine.