We played fútbol in this empty backyard that belonged once to a house where now jap arrowroot blanketed the body, Sara, Richie, Jaylen, and I. We’d play there every day, even at night to sneak out of the tedium we lived in. Richie would bring the big lamp from his chicken coop to light us on those nights. We were painless souls in those hours together, unjointed from the day that wasn’t so tidy as promised. We’d use tires without the silver star in them as porterías since actual ones weren’t viable. Plus, it’d make for more of a challenge. Sara passes it to Jaylin, to which he flicks it backwards with the tippy toes of his left leg like Ronaldinho and leaves me behind to launch it towards the tire hole, Richie jumping in to deflect but failing to do so. Instead, it ricochets off the tire and lands into the weeds. Jaylin yells out that he got it and throws himself in.

The ball and him still have not come back for 20 years.

Sara, Richie, and I lied about his whereabouts, we simply didn’t know as we cried in grief. But on the low, we have been trying to find out a solution to get him back from the kudzu. We have thrown things in only for them to never be seen, spotted the crown numerous times only for it to grow back again, attempted to light it on fire to which it has resisted swiftly. We even got some goats from Richie to eat the weeds but they themselves disappeared too.

Sara is leaving tomorrow, heading off to university in another state and Richie is going on duty the upcoming week, so today might just be our last attempt to get Jaylin back together for good.

We have decided to send someone geared up with flashlight, walkie talkie, and rope tied around their waist inside the viny palace to find the root of this problem that has been bugging us for years. I agreed to be that someone.

I say my goodbyes and wishes if I don’t come back. We hug each other and cover ourselves in mucus willingly. I go in, not looking back.

I immediately land on the other side, where younger versions of us are playing, just as that night. In fact, it is the same night as Sara passes it to Jaylin, to which he flicks it backwards with the tippy toes of his left leg like Ronaldinho and leaves me behind to launch it towards the tire hole, Richie jumping in to deflect but failing to do so. It ricochets off the tire and instead of landing in the weeds, it lands on my hands. The younger versions of us squeal in terror and hide all behind Jaylin. Jaylin approaches me, shaky legs and all, and thanks me for getting the ball for them. I try my best not to cry right then and there at the sight of seeing my friend who I thought was long dead, but I murmur “you’re welcome”. He looks at me and points out my rope, which has been cut off. I say it’s nothing and I hold out the ball for him to reach it and I grab him with the ball and jump back into the weeds.

When we land on the other side, I see younger versions of us again, beside their parents and a bunch of cops with guns aiming towards the weeds. They yell at me to put my hands up and hand over the kid or they will shoot, not a single word. I stutter and tell them that this is all a mistake, that I could I…

I get shot in the head and land back into the weeds.

We play fútbol in this empty backyard that belonged once to a house where now jap arrowroot blanketed the body, Sara, Richie, Jaylen, and I. We play there every day, even at nights to sneak out of the tedium we lived in. Richie would bring the big lamp from his chicken coop to light us on those nights. We were painless souls in those hours together, unjointed from the day that wasn’t so tidy as promised. We use tires without the silver star in it as porterías since actual ones weren’t viable. Plus, it makes for more of a challenge. Sara passes it to Jaylin, to which he flicks it backwards with the tippy toes of his left leg like Ronaldinho and leaves me behind to launch it towards the tire hole, Richie jumping in to deflect but failing to do so. Instead, it ricochets off the tire and hits the head of a falling body from the weeds.

We squeal in terror and hide behind Jaylin. We approach the body single file. It’s bleeding from a hole in the head, where something round like ball went through it. It’s just like in the movies, but it’s scarier to see in person. Sara cries that we should tell our parents about it, but Jaylin cuts in that we shouldn’t because our parents don’t know about our sneaking off and we could get in trouble! They could burn us alive, throw away our crowns from Burger King for them to never come back, or worse, make us feed and clean Richie’s goats. “Oh no!”, we yell in unison. Instead, Jaylin says, we should all go together inside the kudzu to find out where this lifeless body came from. Don’t forget, Jaylin says, nothing can stop our kingdom. If one burns, the crown can still be passed on to the others like this pelota that we got. All of us agree. We hug each other and cover ourselves in mucus willingly before we go in, not looking back.