"Hey," Casey said as she reached Hassan again near the shed.
"Hey." He smiled warmly, and, lifting a foot, put his cigarette out on the soul of his shoe, throwing it in a rusted mesh trash can against the brick wall of the school.
"Eco-concious... Good," Casey observed slyly, following suit.
"Do you want to go over to the park? As cool as this spot is," Hassan said as he gestured around them mockingly, "I think it might be more fun."
"Sure," Casey replied, wondering briefly, insanely, if she were glowing on the outside the way she was on the inside.
The pair walked along the side of the school. It was a long, narrow building with an open space of grass beyond the shed, and beyond that, a small park with a playground, complete with a steel jungle gym that had once caused Casey to bite her tongue, so hard it bled.
More tall oaks surrounded the place, causing shadowy recesses where small bushes, rarely attended to, stole any remaining light. It felt odd to her to be out at this time of night. Usually she'd just be in her room, with no more than her imagination and her vivid daydreaming ability to keep her company.
Yet, tonight, Hassan walked by her side. Stealing a glance at him, she could hardly believe it. She'd come to feel very strange indeed for having had such an enduring crush on him. She'd known him since she had attended the very same building they had begun to walk away from. She remembered him then, a skinny, energetic kid who became one of the choir's star pupils. The way he sang reminded Casey of the sea, as though she were listening to large waves rise and crash from a distance, their crescendos rippling at the peaks and diving down to deep depths. He was quite talented, and Casey always wondered why he hadn't pursued singing in high school.
They soon reached the park, and sat under the roofed structure there, with its plasticky, rubberized benches that had etched strange circular patterns into many a thigh. The night air was sweet, and crisp. It wasn't cold, but a bit chilly. Casey was glad she'd worn a long-sleeve shirt.
As they sat opposite each other, she was surprised that she didn't feel more awkward or shy. It was as though a gentle understanding had come to the surface, that perhaps neither of them were in their best form and so silences need not be a big deal. She liked that. Often, she felt as though she were being talked at instead of with; it seemed to her that lots of people found her a good person to vent to, to complain to, but whenever she tried to say something, the other person stopped listening. She'd almost given up, but had recently tried to make an effort to listen more and stop caring about her own response, and she'd found that suited her well enough.
The silence went on for a few minutes, and Hassan fell as well, into a comfortable lull, but then the thought occurred to him. "So, I guess you heard that, um, argument, between Mary and I?"
Casey was unsure how to feel or what to do in that moment, but she answered honestly.
"Yeah. We can talk about it if you want, but we also don't have to. I won't tell anyone." She looked at him briefly, finding his face an empty canvas save for those warm eyes she loved so well.
"Thanks. I appreciate that. I don't really want to talk about it. It's not that I don't trust you, I just... Yeah." He swallowed hard, gazing out at the trees and farther beyond to the tennis court on the crest of the hill, largely unused by the surrounding populace.
"No problem. Let's just pretend nothing matters, okay, and let's not be boring. I don't want to do small talk, if that's okay with you." Casey was surprised at her frankness and the decisive tone she took. Being as introspective as she was, though, she realized quickly that she absolutely did not, in fact, want to talk about how her life was 'going,' or her family, or her mother, her brother, her gone-now father. She just wanted something else.
Hassan chuckled lightly. "Fine by me."
A few more moments of silence followed.
Then he continued with, "I love this time of year. You know, it really is beautiful here, in a way. At least here you can see the stars well, and it's not cold anymore. You know, I come here sometimes alone at night. No one else is ever here. Well, rarely they are, but sometimes I just like to be alone." He took a slightly deeper breath than his others, barely perceptible, but Casey noticed.
"I know what that's like. I prefer to be alone." Casey said the words, but whether she really meant them was anyone's guess at that point.
"You always were kind of a loner," Hassan teased, "I don't mean that in a bad way. I think the need to be around others all the time is probably a kind of weakness."
"I guess you're right, but so is the lack of desire for social connection and self-isolation," she replied.
"True." He responded quickly, sitting with his thoughts for a moment before continuing, "Hey, this might be weird but do you want to go down the slide?" He laughed. "I'm going to, whether you do or not. I always do, but you can help me feel like less of a loser by going down too." He smirked at her.
Casey felt electric and warm, like parts of her were liquid. "Well," she said, pausing momentarily for gravity, "If I must."
They made their way over to the cherry-red slide, faded in spots from the sun beating down upon it, and scratched with wear. Hassan climbed the structure, giant-looking in reference.
