[Bodey]

Desk-legs scraped against the floor,
and zippers whooshed its teeth around our backpacks
The school bell was about to roar,
and we were prepared to rejoice with a pack of Black Cats
And Old E. My boy Jon was a couple ages older than me
He managed to swipe his doppelgänger stoner-brother’s ID
I met Jon when I was fourteen, he’s a piston for jokes
A walking ad for Ecko clothing and reeks of cigarette smoke
Tommy is my other younger buddy, but he’s taller than us
Smart guy who never studies, a genius kid with no luck
His mother died a year ago and his father is nuts

Our boring little town is surrounded by luxurious forests
Sprinkled with fresh-water ponds and curious tourists
For as long as I can remember, people spoke of this gossip
About an isolated cottage in the boonies—“it’s haunted.”
Legend has it that those who’ve gone and sought it never returned
Not one body has been gotten, unrecovered, no word

“I’m telling you, dude, this whole thing is a hoax.
“Made up by worried parents so their kids would stay close.”
We padded out of the 7-eleven as Tommy went on:
“I mean, why haven’t we ever checked it out? Me, you, and Jon?”
“I’m in,” Jon said, shrugging it off. “How ‘bout it, Delaney?”
I took my beer and I sipped so hard that I coughed.
“My mama’s gonna hate me, but fuck it, it’s on.”
We pedaled into the night, breathing in northeastern air
The trees fed mint into our nostrils and ruffled our hair
Flashes of a lightning bolt signaled us to our feet
Abandoning our bicycles, we hiked til it was too hard to see
Tommy soon suggested that we take a break and lay low
For some reason I never questioned how he knew where to go

Daylight flooded all around me, turning the morning dew to diamonds
I squinted through the glare, and that’s when my eyes had widened
“Guys,” I hissed, trying to ignore the rabbit hopping in my heart
There, stood a rotting wooden cabin, with a squeaky door ajar
I shuddered at the fact that our flashlights hadn’t grazed that
Tommy dusted himself off, and told us just to hang back
He snapped off a branch, and Jon couldn’t help himself with this:
“Now you’ve got a chance, ghosts are defenseless against sticks!”
This was probably the last time we would live in the moment
And it’s not until you grow up that you wished you had known it
Giggling maniacally, we stepped inside.
It smelled like mothball-flavored gasoline,
with beat-up softballs, faded magazines,
glass Coke bottles, crates of flags and beans,
yellow neckerchiefs with a couple badges seamed.
Scraps of sunburned newspaper blew around the floor
I picked one up, and I nearly vomited my food from the night before
It read that all three of our bodies were discovered off a beach ravine
But even more importantly, the article dated back to 1919
I read on, and tears began to swell and my body seemed to teeter
Investigators proved that we’d been killed by our Cub Scout leader
The last name stared through me from the paper.
“Tommy?” I whispered, turning to see his mouth had wavered.
“He was my great grandpa,” he sniffled.
“and my parents couldn’t look at me without seeing his face.”
He fell apart little by little, tears all over the place.
It all made sense now. That’s why his dad is a sadistic drunk.
That’s why his mother shot herself in a rundown pick-up truck.
How long were we living in this alternate universe?
“Maybe Tommy’s shame is the way to undo the curse?”
Jon’s voice made me jump, as he motioned us to come outdoors
We looked down from the cliff and on to the ocean shore
Moms and dads and children, salty air and sandcastles
Their bodies seem to glisten with a glow that I can’t fathom
I reached inside my pocket for the newspaper clipping
Now a blank piece of paper, which some would find chilling
But for some reason, I smile, and so do my friends
We made our way down to join our fallen Cub Scouts again