"You're Impossible"

“What are you doing?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Who else? That rock? A tree? You’re just… sitting. On the edge of a cliff. Literally about to fall off. Probably to your death.”

“I’m just watching the sunset. What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing is bad about it. The sunset is nice, I guess, with the gold clouds, pink and orange and blue sky, there’s nothing wrong with it. Just where you’re sitting. On the edge of a ridiculously tall cliff. Seriously, Hazel? You’re going to fall.”

“I’m not really the cautious type. You know that, Mateo.”

“Oh, I certainly do. Inward eye-roll.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. ‘inward eye-roll’. Like that one.”

“Anyway, I came out for a reason. It’s getting dark. Do you want to go in? We could do a game or something.”

“Already? The sun isn’t gone yet.”

“There’s only a tiny sliver left. It’ll be gone in a minute.”

“So?”

“It’ll be dark soon. If we leave any later then we’ll be walking back in the dark.”

“And?”

“I’m saying we’ll get lost or hurt if we go back home in the dark.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been injured too many times before—a little scratch or something won’t hurt. And we know this forest and the paths too well—we won’t get lost.”

“That’s why I said we should go now. You hurt yourself on everything—even nothing, Hazel.”

“I know. It’s just still so beautiful out… let’s just wait till a few stars come out. Please, Mateo?”

“But then it will be really dark before we get back. You know how dark the forest is at night.”

“…are you scared?”

“Me? Never! Of course not!”

“Hmm. Somehow that’s kind of doubtful. You’re always the… the… cautious type, to put it kind—er, simply.”

“Simply? How else would you put it? The ‘chicken’ type?”

“No. You’re most definitely not a chicken, just a bit more… on the jumpy side.”

“You think I’m a chicken.”

“No!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. Let’s go in now. It’s starting to get dark. Look, there are already a few stars! And the sun is completely gone now!”

“I guess it is. You know what, though? Maybe you are a chicken!”

“Hazel! Well, at least you’re laughing. That had better have been a joke. If not… you’re in big trouble.”

“You can see I’m laughing! That was a joke! Humor!”

“Ha. ha. ha. Very funny humor. Amazing. It’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”

“Oh, feel that night breeze… we should spend the night out here. With the crickets and the stars and the breeze… Mateo, you have to admit it’s beautiful out!”

“Nope. Not with all the mosquitoes around. Look! I already see them flying around everywhere. Ah! There’s one on me!”

“Then just smack it!”

“I already did. Ugh. Now I have blood everywhere.”

“A tiny dot of blood on your arm doesn’t qualify as ‘blood everywhere’.”

“Let’s go in now. These mosquitoes!”

“Oh, come on. It’s a small price to pay for the beauty of the night, right?”

“No, it’s not! Not for you, at least. They don’t eat you!”

“You must be very tasty then.”

“Maybe! I don’t know what mosquito taste-buds are like. If they even have them.”

“I doubt it.”

“Okay. You stay here and get eaten if you like, but I’m going inside, Hazel. See you later.”

“Fine, fine. I’m coming. But I’m coming out tomorrow night with a tent and a sleeping bag. Actually, I’m coming out with the camping hammock and a sleeping bag and a mosquito net. You should come with me. It’ll be awesome.”

“I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow night. Sorry to burst your bubble, Hazel.”

“I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make me change my mind. A little rain never hurt anyone, though, right? If it rains I’ll put up the tent and put the rain-fly on. If I have the rain-fly on before the storm, we shouldn’t have much trouble. And is there supposed to be wind?”

“We? What do you mean ‘we’?”

“You’re coming with me, of course!”

“No! Well, most likely not. And anyway, I think it’s supposed to be a

thunderstorm.”

“Ha! A thunderstorm. What’s a little thunderstorm to us?”

“A little thunderstorm is nothing to us? I think you’re a bit mixed up, Hazel. Maybe it’s not much to you, but to me… I’d rather be inside, curled up on the couch under a blanket, with a big bowl of popcorn and a good book.”

“You’re so boring, Mateo. Why?”

“I don’t know. Good books and popcorn isn’t boring, though.

“That’s true, I guess. But still…”

“Okay. For real, I’m going in now. Are you coming or not?”

“Alright, fine. I’m coming. But I’m coming back outside tomorrow night, storm or not.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Was that a compliment? Or an insult?”

“Whichever you choose, Hazel.”

“I think I know which you meant.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Hmm. You’re acting cheeky, Mateo. You definitely know which one you’re talking about.”

“No, I’m not. Acting cheeky, I mean.”

“You know you are.”

“Do I?”

“Ow!”

“What?”

“I tripped over a root.”

“See? This is why you shouldn’t wait till it’s pitch-black to walk through the forest.”

“I’d trip in broad daylight, Mateo.”

“I guess. But still, even I could trip in this darkness. Ahh!”

“Did you seriously just trip over something?”

“Your mocking tone is not helping.”

“Did you?”

“Argh. no. I didn’t. I ran into a tree. My poor nose. Oh! I think it’s bleeding.”

“Oh, yes. Your poor, poor nose.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on staying out so late, I wouldn’t have ran into that tree!”

“You’ve run into plenty of trees before, Mateo. Don’t deny it.”

“Yes, I know I have. But I wouldn’t have this time if you hadn’t delayed so long!”

“Well, you could have left. Or you could have just not come out at all.”

“I like being outside too, just… not in the dark.”

“Really? You DO? I didn’t even think that was possible.”

“That what was possible? That I like being outside?”

“Yes!”

“Ow!”

“Did you seriously just run into a tree again?”

“…no. Argh, fine. Yes. I did.”

“And you thought I was the clumsy one.”

“You usually are!”

“Is your poor nose still bleeding?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so. Oh, wait, maybe it is. Yeah, it is.”

“There! I see the cabin. You left the lights on.”

“I figured you would stall, so I left them on so we wouldn’t walk right past it in the dark.”

“Ha ha. Good excuse.”

“No real—ah!”

“Did—”

“Don’t. Say. Another. Word.”

“I won’t.”

“You just did.”

“I said two words, not one. Well… kind of three, actually. Because ‘won’t’ is the conjunction for ‘will not’, which is two words.”

“Why are you so impossible, Hazel?”

“Because it’s fun!”

“Fun for you maybe, not for me.”

“You laugh plenty of times too, at my ‘impossible-ness’, Mateo.”

“Rarely.”

“I bet you’re dying of laughter inside, aren’t you?”

“More like dying of… of… being annoyed?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re cracking up inside right now.”

“I am not!”

“Hmm. Are you sure?”

“That I’m not laughing inside? Absolutely positive.”

“You must at least still be enjoying this.”

“Ha! Never.”

“You are so happy to be spending this time with me. You’re laughing inside!”

“Stop it!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But you did laugh when you said ‘stop it!’. You must be enjoying this after all.”

“You said you’d stop!”

“Sorry, sorry, I know. But—”

“Please stop. Or as soon as we get home I’m going to duck-tape your mouth shut. Have fun getting that off. That’s actually a really good idea. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that before.”

“You just made a joke! Wow. Unbelievable.”

“When?”

“When you said you were going to duck-tape my mouth shut when we get home. You know you’re not actually going to do that.”

“How do you know I won’t?”

“Well, technically speaking, you couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You can’t catch me! I’m too fast! I would dodge it!”

“Dodge what?”

“The duck-tape.”

“Oh.”

“So—”

“Wait—did you hear that?”

“No.”

“There! Do you hear it?”

“With you shouting ‘there! Do you hear it?’ I’m never going to hear anything.”

“Shh.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Shh! Listen!”

“Oh, yeah, now I hear it. It sounds like some kind of commotion coming from the kitchen.”

“No, more like from behind the cabin.”

“Let’s go!”

“Wait, what?! What if it’s a… a… a… what if it’s a raccoon?”

“Then we scare it off!”

“What if it’s rabid?”

“Then we’ll still scare it off!”

“Hazel! Come back!”

“Nope! Chicken!”

“Hazel! Why?!”

“I found the source of the din!”

“What does ‘din’ even mean? I don’t think anyone knows that word!”

“You’re trying to keep me from going further aren’t—ahhh!”

“Hazel? Hazel!”

“Help me!”

“Hazel! I’m—oh.”

“Ha! I’m fine! I can’t believe you actually fell for that! Look! It’s just a harmless little raccoon eating our garbage. It’s cute, but that’s gross. Cute but gross.”

“You scared me! Don’t do that again, Hazel!”

“Why not? Did you think I was abducted by aliens or something? It’s just a raccoon.”

“I—what? No! And a raccoon is NOT cute and harmless. They can be dangerous! And they’re cheeky.”

“I still think they’re cute—cheeky or not. Let’s go in.”

“Yes! Finally you’re talking sense!”

“Very funny, Mateo.”

“So what does din mean?”

“Everyone knows what din means, silly.”

“I doubt anyone actually does.”

“It means a loud, continued noise.”

“Oh. Tomorrow I’m going to ask all my friends if they know what din means. They probably don’t.”

“I bet they do.”

“I know them better then you.”

“That is true. But you never know! Maybe I’ve been secretly hanging out with all your friends.”

“I cannot imagine you with any of my friends.”

“Why not? Am I too crazy for them?”

“No.”

“Well, then why can’t you imagine me with them?”

“I don’t know. I just… can’t.”

“Maybe you don’t have much of an imagination.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m joking!”

“I know.”

“Your ‘ouch’ didn’t sound like you knew I was joking.”

“Were you actually joking, though?”

“I’m insulted that you don’t know me better. Of course I was kidding!”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe I know all your worst secrets and I’m just pretending I don’t know you very well.”

“Oh? What if I don’t have secrets?”

“I’m sure you do.”

“If you knew my secrets, then you wouldn’t have to say ‘I’m sure you do’. Right?”

“Oh.”

“Caught red-handed!”

“My hand isn’t red.”

“It is on the inside.”

“Is it red? Isn’t blood technically purple? Just when it’s exposed to air or something it’s red. Right?”

“Hmm. Good point. But something else might be red in your hand! Or maybe blood is still red on the inside. I’m pretty sure it is, actually.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you study blood colors?”

“Someday I’m going to run out of sighs with you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Mateo.”

“Or is it?”

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“Wait, you’re agreeing with me? That I didn’t think was possible.”

“Hazel!”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“NOTHING.”

“What?”

“…can we have a quiet, wordless dinner tonight?”