Read Streetlights Like Fireworks for Free Online

exactly sure what she’s getting at but I hold my
hand out all the same. Lauren drops the watch into my palm and it’s
surprisingly heavy. I rub my thumb across the cover, its brass finish tarnished
with age. I click it open to discover it’s actually a compass. The needle
swivels.
    “So, talk,” Lauren says.
    “About what?”
    “I don’t know, whatever comes to mind. Try closing your
eyes.”
    I glance at the old compass again. “Seriously?”
    “Why not? Go on, just give it a shot and see what
happens.”
    I wonder if I’m about to make a fool of myself. I check
Lauren’s eyes to be sure but she’s not having fun at my expense.
    “Okay, sure,” I say.
    I hold the compass and close my eyes. Then I continue to
sit there with my eyes closed, trying not to feel ridiculous. It’s hard not to
think about my own stuff, or Lauren, or the people I hear talking at nearby
tables. I imagine them looking at me and wondering what’s wrong with me. But
then the voices and music fade and I see the compass inside my mind. I don’t
really even feel it in my hand anymore. There’s just this image of the compass
floating in darkness, its brass edges glowing.
    At first, nothing else comes. But then I see the needle
start to quiver, then move. It shifts toward the north, then trembles again and
points between north and west. Images of cloudy skies, rivers and bridges
appear for no reason I can think of. Just random pictures hitting my brain like
rain striking against a roof. It feels like dreaming while wide awake. Then I
see an old brick apartment building with moss clinging to windowsills and ivy
growing up the side. My focus goes to one of the windows, where a guy stands
looking out at the sky. He looks older than us, maybe in his early twenties,
with short dark hair and tattooed forearms. Whoever he is, I’ve never seen him
before. That’s as far as I get before I open my eyes again.
    Lauren sits watching me. “What do you have?”
    “Nothing, really,” I say. “Just random stuff.”
    She has no problem with that. “So, tell me.”
    As I describe the series of images, I expect her to shrug
and agree that none of it means anything. Instead, she goes pale. She puts the
compass back into her bag, then takes another sip of her espresso. After a
moment, she looks at me again. “So, your friend, Gary—he told you where he got
the guitar?”
    I can’t see what the Telecaster has to do with the
compass but, okay, we’re back to the guitar again. “He said he got it from the
janitor at the elementary school.”
    Lauren pushes strands of hair away from her face. “Wait,
you mean Old Angelo?”
    “Yeah, I know. But that’s what Gary said.”
    Lauren thinks for a moment. “Okay, weird, but we start
there and see where it goes. How does that sound?”
    The two of us starting something together sounds just
fine to me.

6
    Bringing Medicine
to the Maintenance Engineer
     
    On Monday, Lauren meets me after school in front of
Evergreen Elementary. She scans the building and I wonder what she’s thinking.
Her expression doesn’t give anything away but I remember kids making fun of
her. I feel bad now for not sticking up for her. I didn’t know her but that
doesn’t make it okay.
    “Wow, never  thought I’d be here again,” she says.
    “I know. It’s weird,” I say, to fight off the sinking
feeling. “So, how do we explain our being here?”
    Lauren taps her chin. “Kind of a deep question. I guess some
would attribute it to natural selection. Others to creationism.”
    Nice. I laugh even though she’s messing with me again. “I
meant here, specifically.”
    Lauren raises an eyebrow. “I guess maybe we just walk in
and make something up? After all, we are in high school now. We must be smart
enough to pull that off.”
    We walk through the front doors and get about four feet
before being stopped by a cranky middle-aged woman. “Can I help you?” Given her
tone, scowl and penetrating gaze, it comes across more