“No more knuckles are bared; the grass became flowers.”

I always used to meet my friend Alec (a.k.a. Diamond Knight) at the library for Magic on weekends, from about 11 until 4 usually. We found it was easier, in the library, to focus on the zen powers and beastly battles that the game affords. Also, it was kinda fun to imagine that we were trapped in the barracks of our own imaginary war-torn worlds. It was so quiet in the damn place, sometimes you couldn’t help but get giddy chills all day (as long as the deck was going your way). At some point in the game, one of us would overreact, and then we’d get shushed; but even that made us spill out laughing. It was a fun time.

Alec had all these different allergies, which kinda sucked at the beginning of our time together, but eventually just became part of the way things were. For some reason I ate a lot of Pop-Tarts as a kid, and one of the ones I loved had a creamy glaze on top (and sprinkles on top of that). The first time I ever learned about Alec’s allergies was when I nearly killed his dumb-ass. I shared my creamy-glaze Pop-Tart with him. I just didn’t even think about it. He must have been too prideful to decline. Well, he quickly got all sick and red. It was real weird, at the time. I remember thinking he might literally explode, and then feeling terrible that I kinda wanted to see what that would look like, traumatizing as it would have been.

The worst was when I ate a king size Peanut Butter M&Ms (guilty pleasure, even to this day), and forgot about it, again, and rolled a D&D die, and then he rolled right after me. I thought he was going to die that time for serious, and I wasn’t even morbidly curious how it would turn out. Because, as it turns out, when a good friend is hyperventilating across from you and turning the color of Wild Cherry Laffy Taffy, you don’t think about anything. You start screeching like a howler monkey, and flail your arms around, and then you become frozen - a carbonite captive of your own terror. 

What happens next is that the old guy with the ugly moustache who works at the information counter starts calling you “sir,” and asking if everything is alright, and then calmly coming over, and then not-so-calmly jogging to the phone and calling for help. If you’re lucky, you will remember that an epi-pen is a thing, and you’ll look through your friend’s backpack until you find it, and then it will take five jabs because you are so weak and shaking that you can’t press hard enough to cut through his black denim shield. And then you’ll get to learn that the sound of ripping through flesh - small as it may be - never goes away. And then you can watch him come back to life, and make alien garbling sounds, which you will also never forget. At the time, it might feel like forever for the hospital people to come, and then in hindsight it will seem like they pulled a small miracle for your boy. And you will wash your hands obsessively, every time you eat, from then on.

The M&M Death Escape (as it came to be known) turned out to be the crowning moment in our otherwise tepid arrangement. 

The coolest thing about Alec’s dad was that he spent time on the set of Back to the Future. Special effects supervisor, maybe. Anyway, something that was either amazing or, like, not a real job. Doesn’t matter, because he had all these stories, and they sure seemed cool, even if they weren’t his actual memories or whatever. Once he told us about when Christopher Lloyd (he referred to him as “Chris Lloyd”!) would go on these vocal rests, these streaks of silence for a couple of days at a time, and then say the most ridiculous things as soon as he started speaking again. One time he blurted out “All is NOT well that ends well!” Man, that is so cryptic, and kinda messed up. We used that quote all the time in our Magic games, whenever we ended up in an Archemis Orb, or a 5P or higher Lava Field. I mean, it’s just so dramatic. 

We also called each other Butthead a lot, you know, like Biff used to do. I guess we were crazy about those movies. There was a Time Portal card in our Superdeck that we both used to freak out about, because it makes you pretty much invincible, and almost guarantees you to win that round if it shows up in your hand. Every time, no fail: whoever got that card would sing the Back to the Future theme.

Even though Alec’s dad had a badass backstory, and his mom cooked amazing pasta, we didn’t play Magic at his house, because his brother had cerebral palsy and needed a lot of attention. He would yell out at odd times, and that was pretty distracting for the game, especially if we were in the middle of a heated interaction or were trying to figure out the best organization of creatures and weaponry.  It was especially awkward because sometimes his brother would make a sound, and it was him trying to communicate or whatever, but it was so surprising and odd, I regret that I laughed a little. I didn't know how to apologize, so it just made me look like an asshole. They were very forgiving. 

            We couldn’t play at my house either, but for a different reason. The tension was so thick in my house. My parents hated each other, and they were always scowling, interrogating, and judging. My dad felt betrayed, somehow, by my mom. He never stopped himself from being drunk, and he always yelled at her when she was drunk. Hence, the library became our retreat for game playing. It was the only safe place to go to war.

Alec’s parents didn’t care about letting us watch R rated films, so obviously we did that a lot at his place. They didn’t enforce a bedtime, either. It might have been that they were just totally progressive and knew we would be exposed to it anyway. Another possibility: it might have been because they felt guilty about having a son with such an intense disability. My final theory is that Alec’s dad was just a nostalgic movie buff who missed that part of his life. He’d watch a lot of movies with us, and we’d all eat the most sour candy we could find. 

            I had a lot of nightmares at Alec’s house, but I had a lot more at mine.

When Alec came over, at the beginning of our friendship period, I was excited, but also nervous about exposing my lame and dysfunctional family situation. He wanted to see my room, because of all the posters I was always talking about. He seemed pretty impressed, and he even liked the pizza toppings my mom ordered. It was only embarrassing once, when he picked up a book lying on the table beside the sofa. Unfortunately it was not one of the cooler books I could have had lying around. Alec read the title aloud, “Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work,” and of course he gave me grief about that. In a joking way, but still. It hurt a little to see my parents’ failures revealed, without their consent. My mom was apologetic about it, and her face flushed pink, but my dad just got angry and yelled at Alec for “snooping around.” Needless to say, Alec went home early, claiming an upset stomach. He did not spend the night that time.

The first time he spent the night at my place, we watched Monty Python, and Alec farted at the funniest possible moment. In the morning, my dad made cheese-eggs. He also made a joke, at Alec’s expense, connecting the cheese-eggs to his flatulence. It was pretty dumb, but Alec laughed. He was always so good at being polite.

One day, we both noticed that one of the girls who worked at the information desk at the library was actually pretty hot. We were at a lull in the game, and I guess she was putting a book away in the Hardcover Mysteries section, because that was the closest shelf near where we played. Anyway, this plaid skirt comes sauntering right past our sightline, and when we both tried to look without being obvious about it, we each happened to notice a certain keychain hooked on her skirt loop: a string doll of Sally, as in the deuteragonist from Nightmare Before Christmas (ranked #4 on my movie list, #6 on Alec’s). Our gaze followed the skirt until it disappeared into the shelves, and then we checked in at each other. We both had hanging mouths, and we nodded, our smiles widening as if in a comic-book ogling panel. We laughed, then quickly got back into the game. When the girl finished shelving the book, she must have gone out the other end of the aisle, because we didn’t get a chance to see what the front of her looked like right away. We had a few rounds left, and we were talking about a killer X-Files episode which had come on the night before. We forgot about our shared jaw-dropping moment.

On our way out, we both caught each other looking back at the girl at the information counter. She looked so beautiful. She looked at me as we were leaving. I felt my arm raise, waving to her. She smiled and nodded her head. She looked so beautiful.

            Alec and I didn’t talk much, on our walk home, until a car almost hit us as we were crossing Fullerton. We got pissed at the driver, and when he sped away we laughed and high-fived, which dissipated our tense silence. That was the night before I was leaving to go on a month-long road trip, for educational purposes, with just my mom. Alec and I did not hug when we said goodbye. In fact, I’m pretty sure what we did do could be considered a Handshake Fail.

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That summer road trip was epic in a lot of ways. One, I was allowed to drink sometimes, with my mom. That was kind of cool, although mostly she just wanted to drink gross fruity drinks at the hotel bar. The trip was also important because, as dramatic as it sounds, I was feeling my first feeling of heartache. I know that sounds ridiculous, and pathetic. But it was deep, for me. The girl at the library, she’d kind of looked at me. No girl ever had ever done that before. 

I had a cute little notebook, which had been given to me by my old piano teacher. I hadn’t used it much, but I liked the feeling of the cover. On my trip with my mom to National Parks and Homes of Dead Presidents, I used the notebook to doodle and sketch in, whenever I got bored at museums. Some of the time I drew pictures of Revolutionary soldiers, Whigs, and cannons. Other times I practiced writing Runes, or Sanskrit (I only knew a few letters, but they were fun). Mostly I drew pictures of that girl from the library. Smiling, nodding, sashaying, unbuttoning; anything I could wrap my mind around.

My mom noticed I was distracted, and she got a little mad about my lack of attention at the museums. It was expensive, and I wasn’t appreciating it. Then at dinner she’d drink wine and flirt, clumsily, with the waiter, and her tone would change. She would tease me about being an artist, a daydreamer, an astronaut in outer space. In my Boston hotel room, I watched HBO with the sound down low, my hand in my Vader pajamas. I could feel myself changing. 

Alec seemed to be transforming, too. Usually when one of us was on a trip or something, the one of us at home would AIM the other, if we had internet access. The computer downstairs at the Best Western in Boston had Internet, but when I logged on, he hadn't left me any messages. It was unusual behavior. Eventually I decided to call him at home. 

His dad answered, and I remember he called me “Boss,” which felt awesome. He told me in a cartoon nerd voice that Alec was “at the library.” I left the number of the hotel we were in at the time, but by the time we moved on to Philadelphia he hadn’t called back, so I tried again when we got to the Liberty Hall Hilton. This time he was home. His dad yelled, “Yo, Butthead! Phone for you!”

“Hey man,” said Alec, getting on the phone.

“Whoa. Your voice is lower,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m becoming a real man,” he offered, deadpan. He was exaggerating the depth and timbre.

“I’m proud of you,” I teased.

“Yup,” he said. 

After a pause, I told him I was in Philly, and he made a reference to - I’m pretty sure - the theme song from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. He said he was up to nothing much, and we agreed to play the weekend after I got back from the trip. He sounded so different.

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 There are certain cards in Magic that are called Morph Cards. In some ways it’s a completely normal, uninteresting card. All it does is allow you to change a face down card to face up. In a serious game, though, that can make all the difference. It’s always struck me as a subtle yet game-changing power to unleash. Imagine all of the ways we’d be better off if we had the opportunity to morph, even just once in our lifetime. To be given a second chance; to reopen a door that had been shuttered, maybe add a shot of oil to the hinges. 

In Williamsburg, Virginia, my mom and I drank too much hard cider in our hotel room, and I secretly threw up in the toilet, with the bathtub water running to mask the sound. I had been chewing on Colonial Licorice Root all day. My barf looked creepy and black, like oil. That was the last night I drank during the trip. We ended in Little Rock, and the last photo of us from the trip had us standing in front of a cardboard Bill Clinton cutout. My mom was kissing his cheek, she was so drunk. I did a shrugging thumbs up. My acne is really bad in that photo.

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On the last Saturday of the summer, when Alec and I were about to be sophomores, we spent all day at the library, playing out the deck. We’d been full-on attack-mode against each other, just completely brutal and unforgiving. I was feeling vulnerable and there were pretty much no good moves I could see on the board. By the Luck of the Jade Moon, I was able to Draw Two, and I had to conjure my best stone-face to conceal the heart palpitations I experienced when I drew, at the same time, both Spitting Image AND Primal Crux. 

If you haven’t played Magic before, well, you probably won’t understand how insanely awesome that is. I don’t know much about sports, but I imagine it would be about as good as Barry Bonds and Babe Ruth playing together, or Larry Bird playing with LeBron Jordan. If ESPN played sports highlights for Magic: The Gathering, this combo would have maybe taken the number one spot, for best play of the month. 

I had just thrown down that combo, and I was about to embarrass myself by doing a helicopter dance or something, when all of a sudden The Girl with the Sally Keychain came right up to our table. She said “Sorry to interrupt,” which had never happened, so of course it instantly took focus. She looked right at Alec, and she asked him if he wanted to renew Necromancer. Alec suddenly turned all coy and replied, “yes, please,” and they shared a glance that was unspoken but not unnoticed. The girl smiled and walked away. I felt a burn inside my skin that reminded me of having my foot stomped on by a very angry Amy Harrell in Ms. Reinhold’s class in third grade, right after I decapitated her construction paper gingerbread girl.

It occurred to me, then, that while I had been gone, Alec had kept coming to the library. His family hadn’t been on a vacation. They couldn’t really leave Kyle alone, and he wasn’t fun to bring on an airplane. I had been gone for a month, and Alec had stayed, and he must have visited the library - I was now realizing this - every day, probably. He must have gotten to know this girl, based on their body language.

As soon as she left hearing range, I let him have it.

“Wow, Necromancer? I thought we were going to finish all the Grimwoods first.” I hated calling him out, but it was lame to abandon a pact like that. At the very least, I had thought we would complete the Arabesk trilogy. I finished the first one in Boston, and was planning on packing Effendi in my bag for Drivers Ed the following week. 

“Amber loves Grimwood,” he said. That he knew her name was news to me.

“Necromancer is not Grimwood,” I said.

“I know. Gibson was influenced by him. We had an epic conversation last week.” He looked down at the cards. “Nice.”

He folded, then offered his hand for Acceptance of Fate. In the quickness of a firefly’s flash, several feelings entered my brain. The shortchanging of a victory, betrayal by a friend, and the irrational heat of paternally-directed angst, all sparked together in a clashing collision. I smacked Alec’s hand with the flat of my knuckled battering arm. 

I stood up and my chair turned over. I got all sick and red, like one of Alec’s stupid reactions. I lost control of my arms, my voice, and my volume, so I screamed into the air, like a dinosaur afraid to be furious. I hit a stack of newspapers, and they tumbled down, a pile of puzzles and cheap essays. I walked out into the hot summer sidewalk and watched cars whiz by with happy little drivers. I walked along traffic until I hit the water. I thought about jumping in, I was so hot.

After a few moments, I caught my breath and my thoughts again. I turned around and looked at the road leading off to where I came from. There was a serpentine fog, sucking all the cars back towards the library. They turned off Lakeshore, disappeared into the place I had come from, vanishing off into the next place I could go, if I wanted to. None of them looked like the DeLorean. I looked at my hand. I still had a few cards from the deck. 

I had a card that must have belonged to Alec; I had never actually seen it before. Maybe he had gotten it from The Girl, who turned out to be named Amber. Somehow he got the Morph Card, and now I was  holding it. I squeezed it, tight. I shut my eyes, pressing my thumb into the illustrated ball of electricity. I tried to be the person who could go back and face what I had done. I tried to change into someone who was going to apologize.

I opened my eyes, and looked out into the water. I could see my reflection, spreading across the dark waves.

I looked exactly the same. I hadn’t changed.