11. Samuel
SAMUEL
THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME
The cornfield behind Benji’s house stretched on forever. For fifteen minutes, we’d been walking a narrow path snaking through the stalks, my arms brushing either against Benji or the leaves—almost like this path wasn’t meant to be here at all, let alone walked by anyone.
Benji had pointed to the grove on the horizon twice already, marking it as our destination, but with the evening heat making us want to take it easy, it felt like it took forever to get there.
That wasn’t what weighed heavily in my stomach, though.
Nor was it Linda’s food or the lemon brownie.
It was the silence that had stretched between us ever since we left the house.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mind silence.
The sound of our feet beating to the rhythm of the earth that crunched beneath our soles, mixing with the cawing of crows overhead and the rustling leaves, made for a perfectly meditative experience. Just—that wasn’t what I’d expected.
“Your mom is nice,” I’d said when we stepped off the porch.
“She tries her best,” Benji had replied.
“I hope she gets better soon.”
“Same.”
And that was it.
Ever since then, those few words looped in my head like they were the last ones we’d ever say to each other.
That was a lesson learned: never talk about sick parents.
Benji stretched out his right arm and slapped a few of the corn stalks.
I glanced over.
He met my gaze.
And I immediately looked away, back to my feet. The sneakers I wore, which were white-ish when I put them on earlier—not pristine, but clean enough that their color wasn’t questionable—were now caked in red dust, with each of my steps adding another layer.
Benji never struck me as the most bubbly person.
At work, he chatted with Gordy, sure, but mostly in response to what Gordy brought up, rarely initiating something on his own.
So, maybe his being so close-lipped didn’t mean anything, and I was overthinking things?
That was just how life was sometimes, after all: not as bad as your thoughts want you to believe.
He interlaced his fingers behind his back and lifted them to stretch his shoulders.
“We’re almost there,” he said, nodding forward.
I looked up, and for the first time since we started walking, the grove didn’t seem like a mirage anymore.
A hundred trees, at most, huddled together in the middle of the field, surrounded by a wire-mesh fence.
The red "KEEP OUT" signs were finally close enough to read, bold and bright, even in the fading light.
I’d seen those trees before, from the road that led to Farley Farms two miles out.
I never would have guessed a lake was supposed to be hiding in there.
A place like that surely would have made the rounds.
Red Creek wasn’t big enough to keep a secret that good.
But seeing it up close now, locked away behind wire mesh, I understood why no one ever talked about it.
“They are fenced off?” I asked, already knowing that it wouldn’t change the fact that we were going to see the lake.
“As if that’s going to keep anyone out.”
“But... isn’t that fence there for a reason?”
“Don’t tell me, you’re afraid,” Benji smirked.
“No?” My voice stretched the vowel too long, making it painfully clear the opposite was true.
“Relax,” Benji chuckled. “We won’t be going to jail for entering.
I’ve been here at least a hundred times.
This place is as abandoned as the town mall.
And for the record, only a handful of people I trust with my life know about it.
” He tossed his arms in the air like he’d nailed a three-pointer.
“So you should feel honored I’m showing it to you. ”
“What makes you think I won’t tell?”
“You didn’t blab about what happened at the farm. You can keep a secret.”
I guess he was technically correct, even though I hadn’t just stayed quiet to protect him. My own ass was on the line, too.
“If it’s such a well-kept secret, how’d you find out about it?”
“I guess, telling you one more secret is merely another drop in the bucket.” He stopped and pointed his right index finger at me like a gun. “But just so we’re clear, if I find out you told anyone, you’ll regret it.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“Okay?” He repeated. “No.” He shook his head, clenched his hand into a fist, and held out only his right pinky finger. “Swear you’ll take everything we talked about and will talk about to the grave.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” I said, then wrapped my finger around his anyway.
He locked his eyes on me, making me stare into his vast brown irises.
He wasn’t glaring at me, but not simply looking either—more like he wanted me to see in his eyes that he trusted me, and that the promise he asked for was meant to protect me more than himself.
I glanced at our fingers, then nodded. “I swear.”
As if to show how strong he was, he squeezed my pinky hard for a moment, like he was branding that newly formed bond into our skin with an invisible iron. His eyes lingered for a second longer before he turned them back to the fence, let go of my hand, and walked on.
“It was my mom who showed it to me,” he answered the question that had led to the pinky promise.
As much as I thought it should surprise me, I believed it without batting an eye. Not that I knew his mom all that well, but I’d seen enough to know the two of them were more alike than Benji probably realized. It only made sense that parts of his delinquent nature came from her, too.
“My mom was a badass before she got sick,” Benji said.
“Apparently, she met my dad at a secret party in this very grove when they were nineteen. It wasn’t fenced off back then.
That only happened, like, fifteen or twenty years ago.
But she said we deserved a hideout, too, so she showed me how to get in and made me promise only to bring my friends, so the word doesn’t spread too far. ”
“My parents would never,” I replied, though the only thing echoing in my head was that he’d basically just called me his friend . “That’s so cool.”
Benji grinned, his chest swelling as if he’d earned the compliment himself.
We finally reached the wire mesh fence, where the field gave way to a short patch of grass separating us from the grove. We followed it south for a few steps before Benji stopped in front of one of the red warning signs. DANGER, it read, printed in such bold letters it almost seemed like a lie.
But it still got in my head.
Whoever put up that sign must’ve had a reason.
Maybe Benji was right, and no one would catch us.
But what if something actually happened in there?
If it were as abandoned as he said, then no one would come looking for us for hours.
Not even his parents, as they had already told us they wouldn’t wait up.
Benji tapped the fence twice, like greeting an old friend, but stopped the second he caught my look, his expression shifting.
“Seriously, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said.
“No,” I replied. There was no backing out now. Maybe twenty minutes ago, but would’ve, could’ve, should’ve . “We’re already here.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” my voice squeaked a little too high again, but I swallowed it down.
“Just so you know, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“No, I want to go. I can’t be the only one in Red Creek who’s never been there.”
“I promise we won’t get in trouble,” Benji said, turning to the fence.
He walked three steps to the right and stopped at a metal pole.
With the precision of someone who had done this plenty of times before, he slid his fingers through the mesh and lifted it, revealing a gap wide enough to slip through. He nodded at the opening.
I had to make a call. It was now or never.
It felt like a rite of passage—as if Benji had won and pulled me to the dark side, even though that was far from the truth.
No one was forcing me; I could’ve easily backed out.
But why would I? This was exciting. For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
And I did trust Benji. He’d earned that.
I took a deep breath, squatted down, and backed myself against the metal pole, careful not to snag on the wire mesh. Benji lifted it a little more, and a second later, I was on the other side.
He followed, slipping through with what looked like a little pirouette to avoid catching himself on the fence. Carefully, he brought the mesh back down, and when he let go, it fell into place like it had never been touched.
“How did your mom know that this was a way in?” I asked.
Benji leaned in close, lowered his voice, and pressed his index finger to his lips. “She’s the one who cut it open.”
“Remind me to never get on her bad side,” I replied, though I couldn’t help smiling.
After only three minutes in the grove, Benji pushed some branches aside, revealing a lake about the size of half a football field.
Surrounded by trees, giving no hint we were still in the middle of a cornfield, the water stood perfectly still, its surface a mirror reflecting the approaching night sky.
Crickets sang on the far side of the lake, their tune underlining the almost sacred atmosphere.
Benji stepped onto a flat stone jutting into the lake, so wide that if we fell asleep here, we wouldn’t have to fear falling into the water, even if we tossed and turned all night.
A tree hung low above it, its leaves forming a natural roof.
He turned to look at me, clearly debating whether to offer me a hand to get up there, but before he could say anything, I made the jump myself, too caught up in the beauty of the lake to think about consequences.
“This place,” I said, pausing to catch my breath, “it’s incredible.”
“Feel free to come here whenever,” Benji said, joining me in taking it all in.