“Brrr!” Sandy exclaimed, voice quivering. Rubbing her arms vigorously, she did her best, chasing goosebumps erupting like tiny mountains on her pale white arms. Skin-to-skin friction didn’t seem to help much.

“What, brrr, Sandy?” Trent asked, lowering his sunglasses just enough to peer at his girlfriend. His expression of concern and amusement flickered across his face and lingered in his eyes. Trent remained unfazed by her statement, his eyes concealed from her view. “It’s like 80-something out here.” He took Sandy’s hand, holding it gently as sweat trickled down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with perspiration. Sweat dribbled into his eyes, the salt stinging him every time he blinked. “Can we go already?” he pleaded. His Black Sabbath t-shirt, paired with his black jeans, was damp. “I’m hot. And getting stickier by the second.” Fanning himself by pulling the wet t-shirt away from his sweaty body was a futile attempt to cool down.

“What’s going on out here, guys?” Cham burst through the couple, interrupting their hand-holding. “Oh? “Did I interrupt an adorable moment?” Cham’s laugh and mischievous grin put most couples at ease, including Trent and Sandy. That’s why he put his arm around the shoulders of the cute couple.

“Knock it off, Cham,” Sandy spat, irritation flooding her eyes. “You,” she said, pointing at Cham, “are such an idiot! And you?” Sandy turned to face her boyfriend. “You need to stop being such a jerk. Why don’t you grow up?”

“Me?” Trent shouted. “That wasn’t my fault!”  

“Whoa, total downer there, Debbie.” Cham lit a cigarette and pointed at Sandy. Exhaling smoke overhead, he continued, “Lover’s spat after the funeral, is it?” He gestured towards the couple with his cigarette smoke.

The couple shouted, “We’re not fighting!” Their shout, echoing off the nearby buildings, shocked Sandy and Trent.  

Cham held up his hands in mock surrender. “Woah. All right then, folks.” He took one more drag and flicked the butt of the smoke onto the sidewalk, crushing it under his Birkenstock sandal. “I can see that peace isn’t something we’re currently open to now, is it?” His John Lennon-style rounded mirrored sunglasses concealed his eyes. In all likelihood, his eyes were bright red. Bloodshot with ‘allergies,’ or so he claimed. But Sandy and Trent? They knew better. So did most of the kids attending Missouri State University. Pachouli and cigarettes? Cham wasn’t fooling anyone, not with the faint scent of marijuana mixed into his smell. But Cham? He’d never cop to it.

Unless, that is, you caught him with a pipe between his lips. Then he’d shrug and say it was for his glaucoma or anxiety. “I can tell when I’m not needed,” Cham said, backing up with both hands raised in surrender. He started to saunter off down the street. “But it’s not for nothing. I’m sorry for your loss, Sandy. Nick? He was good people–a totally cool dude, that’s for sure.” Struggling to say something, anything else, Cham finally gave up, saying, “I’m sorry. See you kids later.” Throwing up a peace sign, he ambled down Middle Street towards Broadway. “Oh, hey, afterthought,” Cham shouted, lighting another cigarette. “Having a party at the homestead this evening if you two end up kissing and making up. Alright. I leave you to it.” Cham flashed another peace sign before resuming his walk toward Broadway.

Trent shook his head. It wasn’t that he disliked Cham. But why would you choose to be stoned over getting an education? Cham was smart, probably the smartest one in their group. Did the smoke not affect the ‘Chamster?’ Or maybe it was the quality or quantity of what he smoked. But whatever the case, the last time Cham got Trent high, Sandy babysat him, ensuring he didn’t fall into the fire from laughing. Since then? Trent never touched the wacky weed ever again. “That guy.” He thought he said it under his breath, taking off his sunglasses long enough to watch Cham dance down the street to music only Cham heard. “He’s not all there is, he?”

Sandy’s face turned a bright pinkish rose shade. Trent, knowing his girl, knew she was angry. Glaring, Sandy hissed at him. “You know something, Trent? I think I’m done.”

“Well, yeah, babe,” Trent replied absentmindedly, glancing at the Casio digital on his wrist – the latest model with a silver band and water resistance up to 30 meters. Sandy knew he’d never be in water that deep, considering he was scared of drowning. She was lucky if Trent took her to Lake Camanche or the local swimming pool. “The funeral should be about over.”

“No,” Sandy said slowly. “I think I’m done with you – done with the snide remarks, the brash comments, and your rudeness towards most people, especially new people we meet! You can’t be nice to save your life, can you?” Sandy shivered again, feeling the same invisible chill pass through her body for the second time. “Didn’t you feel that, Trent? It just got cold again.”