The Meeting

Today's story came from another writing challenge prompt: Character A to Character B: “holy crap this is a terrible idea.” I couldn't quite seem to wrap it up without writing forever, so I’m just posting this part now and will perhaps continue it later.

“Holy crap, this is a terrible idea.”

Noah shoots me a glare, like I’ve just insulted him in the worst way possible. Never mind the fact that this was my terrible idea, and I was the one who dragged him into it. But it hadn’t taken long for him to jump on board, embracing my far-fetched plan with as much enthusiasm as if it were his own.

That’s the thing about Noah. Ever since I met him, he’s never been able to do things halfway. His spontaneous decision to sign up for soccer intramurals freshman year turned into a permanent position on our school’s varsity team, and his one-year old hobby of filmmaking led him to apply to college as a film major a few months ago. This week is his last in our simple, small town before he moves across the country to California and begins what will probably be the start to his career as a famous Hollywood director.

I think maybe that was part of the reason he agreed to this ridiculous - and I maintain, terrible - idea in the first place. It seemed like the most fitting way to spend our last day together before we part ways and don’t see each other until the holidays.

But now, as I sit cross-legged on the sticky tile floor of the cluttered library next to our city’s council meeting room, I’m starting to rethink this entire thing.

Because not only would my father kill me if he caught me basically spying on him and the rest of our city’s council members, but I’m pretty sure we’re also committing several crimes.

Trespassing onto a government building by climbing through a back door window, for one, probably counts as a misdemeanor. Not to mention recording a city council session without permission. And all because we’re too curious about the impending future of the high school we just graduated from to wait until the council makes its official announcement.

“Amy,” Noah says, in the serious voice he reserves for when he’s trying to convince me not to back out of something. “This is a great idea. In fact, it might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

I let out a long, slow breath. “Noah, if my dad finds out-“

“Not going to happen.” He smirks, his dark brown eyes practically shining. “This isn’t our first surveillance mission, remember?”

I sigh. He’s referring to the week we first met, almost exactly four years ago. We’d been assigned as debate partners in world history, and Noah, because one of our opponents had a reputation as one of the most brilliant people in our class, had convinced me to spy on one of their study group sessions, just so we’d have an idea of what topics they were going to cover.

I’d felt horrible about it afterwards, but to Noah, it had been nothing more than an adventure. We’d ended up losing the debate anyway, but it was the beginning of our friendship. And the first of many ridiculous quests he would convince me to join him on.

“I think they’re coming in,” he says suddenly, as the sound of footsteps starts to grow across the hall. I lean in closer to the wall in front of us, trying to push the fear of getting caught to the back of my mind. There’s only one security guard in this building anyway, and almost every other person here is going to be in the meeting room until the afternoon.

At least we didn’t have to add defacing government property to our list of misdemeanors I think wryly as Noah inches closer to the small opening in the wall that allows us to get a clear view of the room. This hole has been here for at least a month now, when I discovered it as I was helping my dad sort mail. How the hole came about in the first place isn’t too pleasant to consider - I’ve never seen a mouse since my father was elected three years ago, but there have always been rumors - so I try not to think about that too much as I move in closer, until I can see the council members start to shuffle in through the opening in the wooden boards.

The meeting starts off just as boring as I’d expected. Yet Noah seems to find it somehow fascinating. He listens in silence as the council makes their way through budget proposals and tax plans. At one point he even starts nodding emphatically, agreeing with a councilwoman’s position on whether or not firefighters should receive extensions on their pension plans.

“You sure you don’t want to be a politician?” I mutter when they close the subject, deciding, as usual, to postpone it until the next meeting.

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “I’d make a terrible politician.”

I grin. I’m not sure I completely agree though. Noah’s always had natural charisma and good looks, plus that mysterious quality that draws you in and make you somehow want to follow him on whatever hair-brained scheme he proposes next.

But he’s also sincere down to the bone. He’d never advocate for something he didn’t fully believe in. And no offense to my father, but I’m pretty sure that’s a necessary qualification for working in politics.

“Here we go,” Noah says suddenly, turning back to the room while reaching over and squeezing my arm.

I nod, suddenly rendered speechless by the gesture. I’m not sure why his touch in general has been affecting me this way lately. When it first started a few months ago, I told myself it was only because of the nostalgia, since I knew we had so little time left together. But as a spark of electricity moves through my skin, I try to ignore the quickening of my heartbeat and the nagging, sinking feeling that this might be more than sadness about losing my best friend.

Finally, Noah drops his hand, and I try to relax a little.

My father has gotten up to speak now, bringing the matter of our old high school to attention. I try to focus on his words, on the speech he shared with me a little today over breakfast. But instead all I keep thinking about is the way my arm is still tingling from Noah’s touch.

I’ll get over it, I tell myself as my father starts listing off, one by one, the reasons why our high school should stay intact despite its recent scandals. I always do.

#creativewriting