Jake and Tim have been neighbors and school classmates since Jake
moved into the small Tampa suburb seven years earlier, in 1996. The
two boys, age 12 and 13, respectively, are removed by six months age
difference and juxtaposed personality types. Sitting on the edge of the
bed in Jake's room one crisp fall day, the boys prepare for a get-together.
Tim: I wonder who's gonna show up for the sleepover!
Jake: I keep telling you to quit calling it that. Girls have sleepovers.
This is camping out.
Tim: Yeah... that sounds real butch.
Jake: Do you have to say stuff like that?
And what's with the Power Rangers Underoos?
Tim: I love them! I don't care if they're for little kids...I'm keeping
them forever. If people don't like it, they can suck it!
Jake: Probably NOT the thing to say while running around hanging
out of your specialty super-hero underwear.
Tim: You never said nothing before?
Jake: Well, I don't care. But other kids are gonna be here. You don't
wanna get made fun of, do ya?
Tim (mournful, but defiant): No. I don't care! My "Give a Damn is
Busted!" Ha ha!
Jake: Oh Lord. I should never have turned you on to country music.
Tim: Hey, you should do that song for the talent show. It'd be awesome.
Jake: Naw that's okay.
Tim: Come on...don't be shy...that's a cool song.
Jake: No song is cool for a guy to be singing in middle school in the
south. Trust me.
Tim: You worry too much.
Jake: I guess I'll do the worrying for the both of us.
Tim: hmmmnn..well, let's play a game before everybody gets here.
Jake: I hope that means you're getting all the Squirrelly out of your
system in advance?
Tim: What-EVER Drama King! Sure...let's play something you'd be
ashamed of with all your hip friends....
Jake: "What if?" I suppose!
Tim: Yes! What if? it is, by popular demand!
Jake: "What if?" I had my head on straight?
Tim: Never gonna happen.... "What IF...you could have any super
power in the world...What would you choose and why?"
Jake: Oh, keeping it real, I see.
Tim: Don't be a killjoy, Snark Attack.
Jake: Okay...didn't we just do this last week?
Tim: It's like "Who do you find hot?"...it's always changing based on
mood and focus. Quit avoiding.
Jake: Okay...Superman.
Tim: That's not a power.
Jake: Okay, I want to be Superman, and have all his powers.
Tim: That's multiple powers, and an identity...Besides; BORING!
Jake: Okay fine, I want to be a Kryptonian, and thereby have all the
powers of a Kryptonian under earth's yellow sun.
Tim: Cool. Okay...I would want invisibility.
Jake: What the what? Invisibility sucks. That's lame.
Tim: No I could be in espionage, and get all the answers to all the
secrets I want, and I could know what people really think.
Jake: What's so special about knowing what people think? Over-
rated. Besides, seeing what people do and knowing what they
think are two different things, Einstein, Trust me.
Tim: Why are you hating on Invisibility? Lyle Norg was awesome.
Jake: Here i thought you were imagining yourself the Invisible Girl.
You just wanna sleep with Lyle Norg, doofus.
Tim: The Legion was sooo 20th century good comics. Invisibility...
Invisible Lad rocks!
Jake: Look...your own guys could shoot you by mistake. A stray bullet
could kill you. A dog can still smell you. There's no defensive
measures involved at all.
Tim: Ugh. Fine. Green Lantern, then...I want a power ring. It can do everything.
Jake: I don't like that choice either.
Tim: Well excuse meeeee!
Jake: Look--here's the thing; a power ring is not you. Besides, your will
power kind of sucks anyway. When's the last time you followed through
on anything?
Tim: You know, just because you're mister OCD doesn't mean everyone
else is a slacker. You got a problem yourself!
Jake: Noted. But here's the thing. A power ring makes your 'abilities'
dependent on an external source. You can't ever put your faith or
hope in an external source. It has to come from within; That's what matters.
Tim: Killjoy. How is it we even know each other? Okay....let me think......
I know...I want to be a martian, but like J'onn J'onzz...with an array
of powers. I could fly, I could turn invisible and still have strength and
'defensive' capabilities...
Jake: But you'd be green and ugly.
Tim: Ugly is subjective, thank you very much, Senor racist. Besides, he can
change shape..turn into anyone or anybody in looks.
Jake: Let me guess. you'd turn into the guy someone else wanted so you
could snag them?
Tim: What's wrong with that?
Jake: If you have to ask....
Tim: I just want someone to love me. That's not wrong.
Jake: No, but you gotta know who you are. You don't change into who
someone else wants you to be. Your job in life can't be to please or,
or, to....service others' needs. What kind of life is that? When are you
gonna start living your life?
Tim: It's just a game.
Jake: Like you said...it tells a lot about who people really are. And what
would you plan on doing with the mind-reading abilities? Find out what
people think about you? Figure out how to change to be more liked?
Sheesh.
Tim (disheartened): Talk about mixed signals. You never complain when
I change to suit you.
Jake: I gotta get ready. If you want to find something to wear that won't
get you laughed at, check my dresser.
And with that, Jake strode out of the room, seemingly oblivious that his
cavalier manner had finally broken the hopes of his fragile friend.
Their one-time romance had been too much for Jake's go-gettum
upward climb in the social setting of a school filled with judgmental
teenagers. He was too worried about status and image to any longer
carry his whacky and heart-on-his-sleeve pal of youth.
Tim wiped a tear away and studied the situation a moment. He jumped
off the bed's edge and walked tentatively to the full length mirror in
Jake's room. He felt a sadness over the bruised feelings that had
become all too common a mark of their time together of late. Tim
spied himself in his Rangers underoos and smiled. He posed a super-
powered styling pose for himself and triumphantly shouted "I look
awesome!"
He didn't realize it then, but Tim had made a wise choice for which horse
he needed to back in the race of his life.
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