Canal
I have a poor sense of direction. I can go to the same place ten times and still not know how to get there.
So, Aimee Thornton spends an entire week putting all the streets around school into a hand-drawn map for me. There are no directions on the map, only places named "The Convenience Store With the Yellow Dog at the Door" and "The Old Man Who Sells Terrible Tacos".
She ruffles my hair and muses, "How is this one going to survive without me?"
But everything changes when our friend, Dean Sullivan, comes home from abroad.
During our trip, Aimee tells me to get out of the car and check if we've skidded. My feet have just touched the ground when the car speeds off.
She texts me the next second. "There's a rest area about three miles ahead. Dean and I will wait for you there. Dean has a point. You'll never get over your poor sense of direction if I don't give you a push."
I end up trekking through the torrential downpour for an hour, desperate and panicking. Aimee suddenly sends me a hand-drawn map with an arrow, and she's added a cute smiley face beside it.
"Follow the map, and you'll be there in 20 minutes."
Alas, I walk until my calves ache, only for the road to narrow and cut off in a dead end. I call Aimee, but Dean's lighthearted laughter greets me instead. "Hey, man, congratulations on taking the wrong way!
"I made a bet with Aimee that you wouldn't notice the arrow she'd drawn on the map was deliberately pointing in the opposite direction. As it turns out, I know you better than she does.
"And that means I'm the only one she gets to hang out with for the rest of the trip, since having you tag along will be too much trouble."
I hear Aimee's indulgent laugh going off beside him. "A bet's a bet. Whatever you say goes, Dean."
The price of codependency is too much for me—so much so that I'll be lost if Aimee decides to up and leave me.
I wipe my tears dry. I want to find my way alone this time.