13

Being twelve is serious business. It's not as easy as everyone thinks. It's never just fun and games. Max knows that better than anyone else.

For three years now―the longest reign after Hero the Great's four year rule― he and his best companion Marcus have been reigning emperors of the Sandbox Empire. Sandbox Empire encompasses the playground and everything that is visible to the naked eye when standing from the vantage point of the octopus slide more commonly known as The Fortress. The Fortress is where Max and Marcus usually would meet after classes and perform their duties as the sandbox’s crownless kings.

Marcus is a gangly kid with dark curly hair and a slight lisp when he talks. Max is taller than him by a head and a half which qualifies the latter as a giant by a normal person’s standards. Max is the brawns to Marcus’ brains, which makes them an unbeatable pair and a strong force that holds the sandbox in one place.

It is quite a feat in itself that the two shared rulership over the sandbox. They used to be rivals who would not spare a look in each other’s direction. But that changed when the bigger kids from next block came to conquer their land three summers ago. Max and Marcus had no choice but to be allies to protect their common territory. This same territory is the one that Marcus is being pressured to give up soon, just because he is twelve, turning thirteen by fall. Max didn’t understand why.

Max had great foresight, or so the citizens of the sandbox say, but he didn’t see this coming. Maybe he didn’t want to see it in the first place. Marcus is taking down his belongings from the fortress.

“You care to explain this to me?” Max asks Marcus, standing on the fortress’ steps; his eyebrows furrowed and his arms folded across his chest. Marcus keeps on packing his things into a big cardboard box: dated comic books, maps, a pair of binoculars, a sling and a smooth rock.

“I’m turning thirteen before you.” Marcus calmly says as he folds his blue cape and lays it inside the cardboard box of death. Max’s red cape hangs lonely from the plaster ceiling of the fortress. Marbles, toy tops, and a wooden sword.

“By fifteen days Marcus! Fifteen days! Have you gone bonkers? You are giving up Sandbox Empire just because you are becoming a teen this fall? I’d also be one, fifteen days after you, Marcus. But I ain’t folding my cape like some nancy boy. What’s gotten into you? What about Flytree Festival? What ever happened to conquering the haunted house? The treehouse headquarters? You promised me Marcus! You promised me.” Max’s voice bounces inside the fortress. The half-bare plaster walls echo his sentiments towards the whole situation. Badges, playing cards, and a broken yoyo.

At times like this, Marcus doesn’t like to argue with Max. He knows that his comrade is a tough cookie who wouldn’t budge on his stance no matter how hard Marcus tries to explain. It has always been like that. Once he has set his mind on anything, nothing can change it. Also like that, Max is dependable. It gets a little irritating sometimes, but Marcus likes that about Max.

“Flytree Festival would still be Flytree Festival. I mean, we could go about it like the usual. I’m still up for the haunted house on Halloween. Summer said she would come with us. Same with Sunny and the rest of the gang. I’m not one to forget those promises.” He beams. Posters, coded letters, and old pictures.

“You mean that?” Max smiles as the sunset seeps through the cracks of the plaster, like hope pouring down from the August skies. Maybe Marcus is not giving up Sandbox Empire after all.

“Of course I mean it. Although I don’t think I can still push through with the treehouse. Dad is cutting down the acacia next weekend.” There is a hint of sadness in his voice, or Max wants to believe that there is.

“You’re still ditching the sandbox. You’re ditching me. Why?”

“No one’s ditching nobody, Max. We are still best friends. It’s just that I need to set my priorities straight; the sooner, the better. Ara is leaving for college, and you know what that means. I’ll be the eldest child in the house.” Marcus closes the box and smooths masking tape over it. Max starts to step down from the fortress, unable to bear the sight, but Marcus’ hand stops him.

“I thought we were going to be the greatest rulers Sandbox Empire ever had, even greater than Hero. Is that also down the drain? What about the people, Marcus? Our people. They need us… You saw how we are the only ones who could stop Mickey from bullying the smaller ones. Who would settle disputes? Who would put the glue rowdies in their place? We are the only ones who are capable.”

A long pause of silence but they don’t mind. Silence between them is comfortable.

“We could still do this even if we are thirteen, or fourteen, or fifteen. We could do this forever.” Max yanks Marcus’s arm as he steps back into the fortress.

“The children can manage on their own. The sandbox will find new kids to fill our places.”

“No.”

Just like that, Marcus instantly regrets his words. Max is hurt. He wouldn’t admit it but Marcus can tell by the way he clenches his fist at the hem of his loose white shirt. Marcus can tell by the way he bites his lower lip and the subtle glint in his mismatched eyes. Yes, the sandbox needed them. But Max also needs the sandbox.

“All I’m trying to say is, we ruled long enough. We did well as emperors and I’m sure that the kids wouldn’t forget that. We need to give chance to others and also to ourselves. There are far greater things out there. The world is a lot wider than the Sandbox Empire.” Max paces away from Marcus, around the fortress, breathing rather heavy and slow.

“This is about Summer, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean this is about Summer? What has Summer got to do with it?” Marcus ruffles his curly hair and scratches the side of his neck.

“Don’t lie to me, Marcus. You are dumping me and the sandbox because Summer said that it is nothing but childish nonsense,” Max slumps himself by one of the fortress’ walls.

“This is ridiculous, Max―” “Summer doesn’t even like you back.”

Another pause of silence.

This time, it is longer and stings like a horde of wasps to both of the boys’ ears. It blares a discord of innocence shattering and hearts breaking. It holds the dissonant notes for a moment and disintegrates accordingly after a while.

“I’m sorry.” It comes out as a whisper but it is loud enough that both of them hear it fall out of Max’s mouth. Like ice to the stung ears, all is forgiven. Marcus pulls his closest friend for a tight embrace.

Outside the fortress, the Sandbox Empire is being cradled by the night sky. Max holds on tight to Marcus and to their childhoods slipping away, growing more and more distant by each moment that passes by.