Creepy

If You Think You’re Brave Enough, Look For R/Snorkeling On Reddit

“Yeah. I’m surprised. I always thought you were too smart for stuff like this.”

“No, yeah. I found it on Reddit.”

Jameson’s well-manicured brow furrowed.

“What’s that?”

“Nevermind.”

“Jameson,” a new, but familiar voice cut through the little artificial meadow.

I followed the voice to the face of David. He had just walked out onto the back patio of the restaurant.

“Let’s go.”

Jameson didn’t have to tell me twice. I followed her through the pile of the resting bodies of my classmates, across the little creek and out the back of the meadow.

Once through a few lines of trees, we were back out on a stale city sidewalk, standing underneath the pale white light of a streetlight and about a thousand swarming moths.

“Ditching David?” I asked sheepishly when we both stopped to catch our breath.

“Kind of. I don’t really want to talk about it,” Jameson answered without making eye contact. “Come on. I’ll show you something cool.”

Jameson took off down the street in a fast walk. I trailed her.

“So, why were you surprised that I snorkel?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You just seem like a smart kid. Not someone who is going to get into some kind of fad or some kind of drug. I imagine you just go home and do like homework, study stuff, listen to those NPR podcasts where all the hosts sound the same. One of those kids who doesn’t even have Facebook.”

I couldn’t believe Jameson thought I was so lame. The most hurtful part was I did actually have a Facebook profile and we were “friends.” She was also kind of wrong. I wasn’t even really that good of a student and I spent most of my free time playing video games, watching porn and reruns of Archer and South Park.

“Oh,” was the only response I could form.

“Hold up,” Jameson announced and slapped the back of her hand against my chest.

I looked to our right. We were standing next to a pale blue Victorian style house which looked familiar to me.

I followed Jameson halfway through the house’s front yard before I spoke up.

“Uh, isn’t this what’s her name’s house?”

“Sarah Burton.”

I followed Jameson around the side of the house, into a dark, little walkway.

“What the hell are we doing?” I asked.

Jameson turned around swiftly. Covered my mouth with her hand.

“How long have you been doing this?” She asked.

“A few months or so,” I lied.

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Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website. Follow Jack on Twitter or read more articles from Jack on Thought Catalog.