A bit of writing

It's not really edited, so there are probably weird word choices and spelling mistakes here and there. I just realized I hadn't posted in a while and I wrote this about a month or so back...

The World According to Conserve School

Thor, a shaggy-haired, hyperactive, and possibly attractive freshman, peered into the lounge to find a little less than dozen of of us focused intently on a T.V. screen. Per the tradition we had established throughout the year, it was Friday movie night in Donahue. After his brief inquiry into what we were up to and our plans for the night, he was convinced that staying inside to watch a confusing anime simply wasn't worth the time on a warm spring evening. And rightfully so, I suppose.
He invited us to join him to wander about the campus of Conserve school, where the group of us resided for a little under ten months last year. I happily took him up on the offer and dashed out of Donahue house to Elaine, my own dorm. Much to my surprise as I stepped outside, the sunny day had been overtaken by a sheet of gray clouds moving in overhead. No matter, I thought, there's hardly been a storm all year. This will probably just blow over, and proceeded into Elaine for no more than a minute or two to drop of my things.
By the time I came out, it had started to drizzle lightly. A group of my best friends had congregated in the commons area just outside of Donahue, a little unsure of what to make of the rain. However, we were all still desperate for a fun Friday night, so we headed down to the soccer fields where we could sit beneath the pavilion and out of the rain if we so desired.
The storm fascinated us. As the rain came down harder and faster, we couldn't stand still. We wanted to be a part of it, we wanted to be free. Maybe it wasn't our brightest idea, but we sprinted out into the center of the soccer field amid the fury of the storm and let loose.
Lightning tore through the heavens in the most breathtaking display I'd ever seen. The ground shook with the roar of each thunder clap and lightning strike. I looked toward the sky, an orange and purple sunset provided nothing short of a spectacular back light for clouds. There was no denying it, this storm was brilliant.
We laughed and skipped and danced and acted like we were just little kids again. The rain was warm and pleasant, like it had come to wash away the troubles that had plagued us all over the preceding months. Without a doubt, this shower was overdue.
Suddenly, we saw a maintenance truck pull up to the pavilion area and stop. Not knowing if we were allowed to be out there, we instinctively froze.
"Don't move. Maybe they won't see us," someone suggested quietly. We glanced toward the truck, then towards each other, and waited.
During the period of silence that ensued, I looked around at the faces of my best friends, shadows of simles sitting on their faces and raindrops dripping from their earlobes and eyelashes. It was hard to face these brilliant, gorgeous, incredible people and remember our time was almost up. We'd been informed late in winter that Conserve School, a place we all called home, was transitioning to a semester program. All of the freshman had to leave. Most everyone else had a year left, if they wanted to take it. Our nightmare had gone from bad to worse when the lawsuit emerged and proved fruitless. We were helpless as everything that we had worked for in our short lives was swallowed up by some greedy businessmen. To us, they were no better than murderers and thieves because, when it comes down to it, they are.
This storm, I realized later, felt like an "okay, go" from the heavens. It was a sort of angelic revolt to the crimes of the dictators of Conserve. When I think back on it, that clash of heaven and earth was the god's way of mimicking and justifying our fight; it was a way of reminding us what we had to fight for.
Had it not been for the rain, maybe someone would've spotted the tears barely forming in the corners of my eyes. I hastily wiped them away as the truck drove off. We all heaved a sigh of relief. We were in the clear.
"Guys, guys, guys!" I chanted excitedly as we started to smile again. The lightning seemed like it was getting closer; like it was about to seperate earth and sky all together. "If you got struck by lightning and could have any super power you wanted, what would you chose?" A contemplative silence fell over the group.
"I'd want music powers," an angelic-voiced friend of mine, Opal, murmured.
"Yes!" I concurred energetically, "super awesome music powers." Then, somehow in perfect unison, we screamed at the top of our lungs, "super awesome lighting music powers!" and high-fived triumphantly. We discussed the finer points of what the aforementioned super powers would entail, with the others ocassionally interjecting their own ideas or super power of choice.
Much to our dismay, the truck then returned. This time, the driver got out to inform us that we were not, in fact, supposed to be standing in the middle of a big, open field during a massive lightning storm. Who would've guessed?
Put off a bit, we headed back to Donahue. On the way, Kegan, one of my companions, misheard something I was saying to Opal.
"Bacon?" came his inquiry from ahead. "I want bacon!"
"There is no bacon!" I retorted.
"But you just said there was bacon."
"There is no bacon!" Opal echoed.
I added, "There is never bacon!"
"Bacon... bacon is anti-matter!" Opal decided, and I agreed wholly. Of course, to disprove our theory, Kegan felt the need to make bacon the second we got back to Donahue.
Sitting on the steps of the house's atrium, we found Bill and Matt, two more good friends without anything to do on that could-have--been-typical Friday night. Ben and Diego, who had been with us since first abandoning our movie watching helped us inspire their sense of adventure. Collectively, we decided to go out one more time- just as soon as Kegan finished his damn bacon.
The eight of us knew going back to the fields was a good way to get caught, so the woods would have to suffice. We weren't allowed to stray that far after dark, but since the announcement of the closing of our school, we had adapted a collective mindset: What are they going to do, kick us out?
So, as nonchalant as possible, we filed out of the house and snuck back toward the rec center, where the most popular trail entrances were found. Quiet as can be, we darted around the building, fumbling over slippery leaves and muddy ground to find the off-shoot that would lead to one of Conserve's sacred places: the climbing tree.
The trail was only wide enough for one person at a time. It was a single track bike loope lined with partially rotting birch logs impossible to see under the cover of night. Tripping over my own feet as I went, I clung to Ben on the way out to the tree. I loved the woods, and I loved the dark, but something about the woods in the dark creeped me out.
We talked in hushed tones for a while, listening to the drip of rain onto the trees and the whisper of wind blown leaves. it was a kind of music that we heard often at Conserve, but took fro granted. This was a song that no one could write and a melody impossible to play. Arguably, it was the worlds finest composition. These were true super awesome lightning music powers.
The climbing tree was nothing more than a tall pine by the lake. During the day, I'd climb to the very top and watch the sun sparkle on the water until it sank beneath the distant trees in an awe-inspiring sunset. I'd never been at night before. From the base of the tree, I strained my eyes to see the familiar landscape, only to be startled when it was bathed in an instant's white glow by another flash from the storm. Even though I could hardly see around me, that place had an indescribably aura of beauty as our laughter echoed across the lake. For the first time in recent memory, I had felt safe. More importantly, I felt home.
It was getting late, we realized. We were soaked through and covered in mud, freezing to the bone, but happy. What would they think as we strolled back into our dorms? Then,we remembered, what did it matter?
Later, warm and dry as i tried to fall asleep, I was struck by a realization not unlike the spears of lightning that had brightened my night. That evening's events, with its carefree smiles and child like laughter, with its undeniable friendship and pure, unadulterated love, that was the world according to Conserve School, because there is never bacon.