I Didn't Mean to Kill My Best Friend

by Kamuela Kaneshiro

The lake is a short distance away. Plans for the upcoming year filled the drive over. I kept expecting to hear the dull thumping of Steve’s heart coming from the backseat. But it never happened. It was just a night drive, hanging with friends.

  I remember growing up at the lake, lots of great memories. This summer will bring the usual camps, and kids swimming above the duffle. Yes, it seems a bit creepy, but other disgusting stuff had to be in and around the lake. We couldn’t have been the only ones to think of this. Surely there had to be at least one other dead body somewhere on the bottom of the lake. Another body on the bottom of the lake—at least Steve wouldn’t be alone in his new home. That should give him peace enough to keep his ghost at bay.

  Steve completed parking. “Right, let’s look for big rocks to weigh him down.”

  We exited the car and left the parking lot.

  Steve is usually well prepared. This means we have our own flashlights and a fresh pack of cigarettes.

  Together we walked to the water’s edge. The stars filled the vast sky, making constellations difficult to decipher, and the moon graced its image against the slight ripples on the surface of the lake.

  Yes. This is truly a beautiful night.

  We began the task at hand. I stayed close to the water; Steve moved near the tree line.

  Finding large enough rocks is proving difficult. One of those moments you remember previously seeing various rocks that would do the job, but when they are needed, they all seem to have gone on vacation.

  The piercing shrill of a woman’s scream jolted through me like a bullet. I gathered myself and realized it came from Steve’s general direction.

  Steve’s outline was illuminated by his flashlight. I ran toward him, a combination of stumbling and sliding due to all the rocks. Finally I made it to his side and saw what his flashlight lit.

  The naked bodies of a scrawny man and a plump woman squirmed around the ground as if Steve’s light caused them great pain. Steve’s laughs were drowned out by the woman’s yells. The man’s screaming was low and pitiful.

  “Hey, Maurice,” Steve greeted the man on the ground. He patted my back. “Can you believe it’s Maurice? And from the looks of it, he must be cold. Or at least that’s the excuse he’ll be using.”

  The ruckus finally subsided from the disturbed couple. Maurice is our age, balding with a horrible comb-over, dark beady eyes and a pointed nose, which the light amplified, enhancing his rodent features. The woman seemed older and appeared as the complete opposite of Maurice. She had long hair, was overweight, but attractive in a “girl next door” way.

  Damn Maurice. After all this time he still has that creepy vibe. Not creepy in a sinister way, but creepy in an annoying sense. Poor woman. She could do so much better than him.

  Maurice tried to shield his eyes from the merciless beam of light. “Steve? That you?”

  Steve sighed. “No, it’s God, you idiot. But if you die from stupidity, at least your genes won’t carry on to the next generation.”

  “What are you doing here?” Maurice whined.

  Steve used his flashlight to scratch the back of his neck. “Um, looking for a friend. What are you trying to do here?” Steve’s flashlight focused on the woman. “Nah, I don’t recognize her. This is classic, Maurice. Too cheap to get a hotel room. A loser in school and a loser now.”

  “I don’t think this is very amusing, Steve!” Maurice stated, obviously trying to regain composure, but failing.

  “Of course you don’t. But I do.” Steve cackled. “You should see what I’m doing with my right hand.”

  “Pervert!” the woman snapped.

  Maurice turned his head away. “That’s sick.”

  “Oh, it’s not that, you moron. Now give everyone at home a nice big smile!”

  Maurice and the woman gaped.

  “I love my new phone’s video camera,” Steve stated. “Oh, and I guess I’ll be taking these.” His right hand rose into the light. It revealed a cell phone’s camera pointing to the pair and a set of men’s clothes hanging on the fingers.

  Steve dashed toward the parking lot. Maurice and the woman yelled with rage. I fled the pair with greater ease then running to them, since there were fewer rocks this way. In no time, we were back at the car and racing from the lake.

  Maurice—what an idiot. I still feel sorry for that woman.

  Chapter Four