#apurgtask

Charlie, Alec, and Oliver spent a lot of that Summer in the treehouse in the North’s big backyard. They had stocked it by then with all the necessities; pictures and crude drawings on the walls, comic books and games to play, a lantern, and sleeping bags for nights spent laughing in the dark. 

That afternoon in July, the three were buzzing with energy as usual, with nowhere to put it. Alec toyed with an ancient radio they had found in the junkyard, attempting to get it to play anything but static. Charlie was bicycle kicking idly into the air to see if he could break a world record. Oliver was flipping through a motorcycle magazine, picking out the coolest ones he was definitely going to buy when he got older.

It was Oliver that succumbed to the tedium first. He tossed the magazine aside, groaning loudly in frustration.

“I’m bored,” he announced. 

“Hello Bored, I’m Dad,” Alec responded quickly, not looking away from the radio dials that he was tweaking.

Charlie: “So funny, dude.”

Oliver hopped up, wandering over to Charlie to grab his feet midair. 

“Hey, I only needed to go for like 57 more hours ‘til I broke the record. Now I’ve gotta start all over again,” he whined.

“Time’s up,” Oliver said. “I’m hungry. Do you think your mom made lunch?”

“She’s got a church lady thing today with Mrs. Bailey,” Charlie said. “They’re organizing some dumb town fair thing.” Oliver looked incredibly disappointed by this, so Charlie sat up. “We could raid the kitchen though. No one’s home.”

Oliver grinned. “I love a good raid. Alec, you coming?”

“Nah.” Alec shook his head, still deep in concentration. “Bring me back somethin’ good.” 

So Charlie and Oliver climbed down, back to Earth below. They shoved each other, laughing as they raced into the back door of the North residence. Normally Oliver and Alec didn’t step foot into Charlie’s house. Not only was it intimidating in its size, but there was always a chance Marshall North would appear from the depths and banish them to the shadow dimension. Charlie’s dad wasn’t exactly a fan of his friends.

Charlie felt strangely shy as Oliver looked around, knowing how different their circumstances were, even at 11 years old. Just by being inside that massive kitchen, it felt like Charlie was somehow bragging.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked, distracting Oliver from his study. 

“Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Oliver answered. Because he was used to kitchens that were barely stocked with anything. He fed himself on what was available - stale Cheez-Its, slices of Kraft singles, bologna sandwiches, packs of Ramen if he was lucky. 

Charlie made an indecisive noise with his mouth, opening up all the cabinets like a poltergeist to reveal a goldmine of food. A pantry that was overstocked, if anything. Filled with colorful bags and boxes. Oliver gazed at it all like he’d been invited to the Wonka factory.

They ravaged the kitchen and pantry, collecting random snacks until their arms were overflowing. They weren’t sure what Alec was in the mood for, after all. They had to think of him, too.

“Hey, look,” Charlie said. He reached into the fridge, appearing a moment later with a distinct brown bottle in his hand. “My dad’s beer. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Oliver smiled wickedly. “He won’t notice it’s gone?”

“Pfft.” Charlie laughed. “He’s got enough.” 

They had never drank beer before, so this moment was very scandalous. They were giggling like imps all the way back outside, excited to show Alec their loot. Only to find their treehouse castle under siege.

Jamie Dyer was standing beneath the oak tree, staring nervously up at the scene. Elle Reynolds was climbing the ladder, while Alec hung out of the open door, trying to whack her with a foam sword. 

“Back! Be gone, foul wench!”

“Alec Flynn, if you hit me with that stupid sword, I swear I’ll turn you into a frog!”

“Turn him into a cat!” Jamie encouraged.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked, ever the lancer, ready to jump into battle with his friends at a moment’s notice.

“I told Elle that no girls are allowed up here, but obviously she’s deaf. Or dumb. Or both,” Alec yelled. 

“You’re rude. It’s a wonder anyone lets you talk at all,” Elle insisted, trying to reach with one hand to grab the sword.

Oliver and Charlie approached Jamie, who looked at them anxiously. Even after all those years, Jamie seemed constantly unsure about the concept of having friends. Like at any moment, one member of that infamous Gravewood trio would choose to betray him - teasing him or pummeling him for being weaker, smaller, and nerdier than his twin brother. Then the others would follow along, because that’s what they did. 

“Gentlemen, I think we’ve got a real war brewing here,” he said, glancing at the snacks the two boys held. 

“No way.” Charlie shook his head. Ever the peacemaker, he walked to the bottom of the treehouse ladder. “Stop the violence. We’ve got snacks and we know how to use ‘em.”

Both Elle and Alec stopped trying to kill each other. They looked down at Charlie, who beamed up at them, shaking a tray of Oreos like they were puppies who would come over at the sound of treats.

It worked like a charm. All five of them were hanging out on the grass in 3 minutes flat. They didn’t even bother to sit down for their picnic; everybody started opening boxes and grabbing snacks straight from Charlie and Oliver’s arms.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Alec asked, shoving an entire cookie into his mouth. 

Elle and Jamie shared a look.

“We’re in the pursuit of knowledge,” he answered. “We’ve read a story about Gravewood and we intend to investigate to see if it’s true.” 

“The story of Charlie’s treehouse?” Oliver asked. “‘Cause we’ll never tell you that one. You’re gonna have to chain us up and try torture.” He mimed gouging out an eyeball, making a wet noise with his mouth. 

“We’re eating,” Elle admonished. The boys simply laughed. She shook it off. “Anyway, no. That’s not the story.” A flash of excitement and conspiracy appeared across her features. Elle leaned in, like someone might be listening who shouldn’t. “Have you ever heard of the dead man’s wish?”

Gravewood was a town of legends and myths. It was fitting, for a place named after a cemetery. Jamie and Elle put on a theatrical performance of the one they’d newly read, creeping around in a circle around the boys, reciting the thrilling tale. Charlie, Oliver, and Alec watched with rapt attention, drawn easily into this circle of imagination. 

The crux of it was this: there was a man who had died in Silent Phantom Cave. If you found where he was buried and paid your respects, he would grant you any one wish. Anything you desired. 

“Anything?” Alec asked.

“Anything,” Jamie assured.

“Why’d you come here then? I don’t think there are any old dudes buried under my house,” Charlie said, shooting his home’s foundation an uneasy look. Hoping that he hadn’t been sleeping above skeletons all these years.

“Well funny you should ask that, Charlie.” Elle’s expression had turned into something sweet and coy, though still somehow conspiratorial. She clasped her hands behind her back, edging closer to Charlie. He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying not to stare at the pretty blonde curl of her hair, which he’d only started noticing that year. “We need you three to help us find the grave. Jamie and I are the brains, but we need some brawn to back us up. Just in case.” 

“In case of ghosts?” Charlie gulped. 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Oliver insisted. “How do we know this isn’t some plan to get us away from the treehouse so someone else can steal all our stuff?”

Alec shrugged. “I dunno, it sounds really fun to me. I’d love to get down on that wish deal.” 

“Ghosts?” Charlie reiterated. Elle batted her eyelashes at him prettily. “Ugh, fine, whatever! Stop looking at me like that, it’s gross!”

And so that was the afternoon’s adventure. Jamie and Elle had come ready with supplies, but the boys packed their own bags, too. Snacks, flashlights, walkie talkies. The single bottle of beer was slipped into Charlie’s pack. In case of emergency. Then they grabbed their bikes and they were off.

Traversing Gravewood on bicycle was the easy part. They pedaled through the suburban area, turning briefly down Main St. Jamie honked the horn on his bike when they saw Marie on the sidewalk with a bag of groceries; she waved with a smile, like the friendly innkeeper wishing luck to the adventuring party. On and on they rode, past the trailer park where they had a brief tussle with the dog always chained up right outside. Oliver liked to play chicken by seeing how close he could get without getting his face ripped off. But then they were gone again, speeding up a big hill and around a bend, across the RV park, until finally they were at the old train tracks bordering the forest.

This is where they had to abandon their bikes, laying them in the grass and taking the rest of the trip by foot. Together, they followed the tracks for a while. 

Jamie was in the lead, carrying a map in his hands. He was the resident scholar; the wizard in search of ancient magics, who had studied for this his entire life. 

Oliver was second, flitting in and out of the trees, running ahead and then trailing behind. Always the rogue protector, keeping watching from the shadows for baddies that might pop out.

 Charlie, the group’s knight or chivalrous paladin, carried Elle on his back. 

Elle was like the runaway princess, fleeing the castle for a taste of adventure. As the party’s cleric, she carried a bag of snacks and supplies, ready to heal any hunger. Or booboos. 

Alec followed behind. The adventuring bard was strumming a tune on an old ukulele he’d brought - the one supply Alec had packed, rather than anything useful or practical. 

They ventured for what felt like a whole hour. Into the forest and out of it, up and down the mountainside, through the quarry, until they found themselves at Silent Phantom Cave. They approached with much reverence and far more caution than they’d shown their town ‘til that point. Everyone had heard the tales of this cave - and there were many. Of ghouls, of missing miners, of echoes that came back with voices not your own. 

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Jamie told the group. “The grave could be anywhere near here.”

“How will we know when we find it?” Alec asked.

Jamie hesitated, like he hadn’t prepared for that. How were they supposed to find an unmarked gravesite? Everyone glanced at each other for an awkward moment before Charlie finally spoke up:

“I think we’ll just know,” he said resolutely. “That’s sort of how magic works.”

They all agreed on this point, spreading out into the surrounding woods. Jamie used his map to look, writing little notes and points of interest onto the paper. Oliver searched in the dark places, where the trees had blocked out the sun. He was the only one who dared get close to the cave, climbing over rocks and peeking into secret crevices. Charlie had climbed a tree in the hopes that being high up would give him a good vantage point to see far into the distance. Elle was wandering around with a finger tapping against her chin, deep in thought as if trying to get into the mind of this story. She had that look on her face: if I were a magical dead man, where would I be buried? Alec was running about, scaring birds and squirrels as he shouted: “Hello! Are there any dead guys out here? I just want to ask you a question!”

When dusk began to fall, they all slowly came back together. Disappointment was evident on all their faces, though Jamie Dyer looked the most dejected.

Charlie: “We can always try again some other day.”

Jamie: “Why don’t we keep looking? We brought flashlights. We could stay out here as long as it takes.”

Elle: “I don’t know, Jamie... My parents would get really worried if I got home so late.”

Oliver: “Plus I’m hungry. Looking for dead people really works up your appetite.” 

Alec: “Hey, we can fix that!”

Alec dug into the pack on Elle’s back. He pulled out the snacks and they all sat in a circle for an impromptu picnic before the long trip home. Oliver held the beer bottle aloft. “Anyone wanna try a little of this?” he asked devilishly. Elle gasped, but Charlie and Alec looked excited. Alec reached out to take the bottle, inspecting the label like he knew anything about beer and could tell whether it was good by the brand name. 

“How do we open it?” he asked, revealing the real lack of knowledge he had.

“Uhh... did we pack a bottle opener?” Charlie asked Oliver. 

Oliver: “I thought you would do that.” 

Charlie: “Me? Why me?”

Oliver: “Uh, ‘cause it’s your dad’s beer.”

Elle: “You STOLE your dad’s beer? Are you all lunatics?”

Charlie, Oliver, and Alec all laughed as if to say: Yes. Yes we are.

Elle blushed. She looked antsy, but she also said: “I guess... if we’re sharing it, maybe it’s fine. Have you tried twisting it off?”

Jamie sighed. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said. He took the beer from Alec, expertly using the sharp end of a stone to pop the cap off. He handed it back, shoulders hunched under the weight of the astonished looks around him. It was as though he was torn between pride that he’d impressed them and some internal agony that he’d known how to do that at all. 

Alec: “Jamie Dyer... is a god!”

Oliver and Charlie whooped cheers for Jamie; Elle clapped appropriately. Jamie blushed crimson. “Ugh, everybody knows how to do that," he insisted, despite having been the only one in the group who did. “There’s no way I’m drinking any though. It’s poison. You’re all going to poison yourselves and when you pass out in the woods, I won’t be able to take you all back. I’m saving Elle and letting everyone else get eaten by bears.”

Charlie: “I could fight a bear.” 

Alec: “He could. I’ve seen it.”

Oliver: “And anyways, even if we did get eaten, what an awesome way to die.” 

On this point, the three billy goats gruff apparently agreed, passing the beer around the circle. They all - save for Jamie - took turns taking sips. Their very first beer. 

“Blech! It’s so disgusting,” Elle cried.

Alec: “Yeah, it’s bad.”

Oliver: “Like dirt flavored soda.”

Charlie: “I dunno, I could get used to it.”

They kept passing it around anyway, until the group had finished the bottle. The warmth went to their stomachs immediately. They joked and giggled and leaned into each other like old friends at the local tavern, rather than a party of preteens who’d collectively consumed a single Budweiser. Even sober Jamie, who had been so discouraged before, was lit up by a toothy smile, playing along with the games and revelry. 

It took a while for them to settle down, as dusk grew darker. When they did, nobody made the first move to leave.

 “If we do find the grave someday,” Jamie said, “what would you all wish for?”

There was a pause as they all considered this.

“Maybe... I would wish to be a princess. I’d live in a fancy castle in a faraway land where there are unicorns and princes and magical balls...” Elle wistfully painted her picture. 

Charlie giggled immaturely. “Magical balls. I would wish for magical balls too.” Elle groaned and shoved him.

“I’d wish for a million dollars,” Oliver said. “No... a million, billion dollars. ‘Cause with all that money, I could buy everybody else’s wishes. I’d be like the town genie.”

“That’s a good one,” Alec said with a nod. “I’d wish for a dog. Or - wait, no - a guitar. Or a boat. A really cool boat. But.. no.. maybe like a horse. Or two horses.” The indecisive Alec would have gone on forever if someone hadn’t stopped him. Luckily, Jamie was there to offer his own wish.

“I’d wish for this,” he said. His tone was shy, uncertain. It had been hard to hear him over Alec’s rambling, so they all quieted, asking him to speak up. “I’d wish for more nights like this,” he said, rubbing his hands and looking into the woods rather than at his friends. “A whole day just like this one that wouldn’t ever end. All five of us, together this way. Forever.”

There was another pause. One in which they all seemed to telepathically agree that Jamie’s wish had been the best one of all.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Elle agreed softly. 

Charlie: “Yeah... me too.”

Oliver: “Best day ever.”

Alec: “Nothing beats it. Except maybe this day, but also there’s a dog.”

They laughed and began to gather their things. With the steady dropping of the sun, they had to use what precious daylight they had left to at least get out of the woods. When they got back to their bikes and began to pedal home, there came a point in Gravewood where they had to split up. To go home - wherever in town that was for each of them. 

They had plans to get back together for another adventure. To find the secret grave; to get their one wish. Plans, however, are hard to keep when you’re 11, on the cusp of life and responsibility. They didn’t know, on that warm Summer night, that it would be the last time. They didn’t know, as most childhood friends don’t, that this parting was significant. 

There was no fanfare. No trumpets to announce a great goodbye. Such was growing up.

Will you come home and stop this pain tonight? Stop this pain tonight

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It's eating me alive We'd both be better off alone

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I'll show myself it wasn't forged We're at war, we live like this

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I'm not a part of a redneck agenda Now everybody do the propaganda

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