“Well, that’s it,” I said, laying the last square of red dust, “we’re done.”
“Well, come on down then,” called Summer. “Let’s give it a go.”
I stepped back from the final open section of crawl space and climbed down the ladder next to Summer. She punched out the final torch, and, for a moment, we stood in absolute darkness.
“You do the honors.” That was her.
“Nah.” That was me. “It’s your show.”
“I insist,” Summer pushed, “just like you insisted that we finish the job.”
She had me there.
I reached back up to the simple wooden lever. How many times had I passed it, resisting the urge, until now? Heart racing, sighing deeply…
“Bing bang boom.”
Flick.
And night turned into day. The main chamber’s entire ceiling lit up with hundreds of redstone lamps, all wired together, all at our command.
For a moment neither of us spoke, just admiring the sheer scope of our accomplishment. It had taken over a month, going back to gather all of Summer’s previously stored glowstone, then mining new natural deposits to boot. And now we were finished. Every room was lit—well, almost every room. The mushroom and nether wart farms did better in darkness. But every other space was lit with the flick of a lever.
“Brill?” I asked my partner.
Summer nodded back. “Brill.”
“What do you think, B.B.?” I called down to our new roommate. B.B., short for Bacon Bits, didn’t respond. The zombie pigman just wandered around aimlessly, as he’d done since that first day of our aborted battle. It hadn’t been so bad, sharing the mountain with a stinking, snorting deady. He was harmless and, other than that time I’d forgotten to close my bedroom door and had woken up to find him standing over me, it was kinda nice to have someone else to fill all this empty space.
And now he’d be my replacement. Summer’s new partner when we said our final goodbye. We’d both known this moment would come, and, at least on my side, it had filled me with no amount of sadness. Every night, after working on our grand project, as I was alone in my room writing all this story down, I’d dreaded writing “The End.” Not of our friendship, no more than with Moo and the island sheep. We’d still be connected in our hearts and minds.
Friendship cancels distance. Not the other way around.
But like with the island, this was the end of another chapter of my journey. Painful, but necessary. Necessary, but still painful.
What to say now? How to part without tears?
I’d rehearsed half a dozen speeches, each more eloquent than the last. But as I mentally fumbled for the right one, Summer spoke first with a sigh. “Well, I guess this means we’re off then.”
Wait? What?
“We?”
“Of course,” Summer huffed. “That is, after we’ve packed and set everything right for the next traveler. And you have to write the last chapter of this book, don’t you?” As I fumbled for a response, she continued, “And perhaps I could add a bit at the end. Your prized list of friendship lessons? That applies to me too, doesn’t it?” I was speechless. She turned to shout down to B.B., “And you have to remember to leave the lights on, or else some baddies might spawn in the dark.”
“Whoa…wha…” Still struggling for words. “You’re coming with me?!”
“Of course!” Summer repeated, and laughed that warm summer laugh. “I thought you knew that? I thought we had an understanding.”
“Well…I…”
“Sorry, that’s on me, then.” Another light, angelic chuckle. “I still have to work on my communication, don’t I? Fresson twelve: Friends communicate.”
And before I could mumble out any more mush, she looked into my eyes and said, “I should have been very clear that I won’t let us be broken apart ever again.” She glanced out at the main chamber, or, more precisely, the unseen land beyond. “I wonder what we’ll find out there,” she mused, “but I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle. Friends are stronger together.” Turning back to me, her fist rose to meet mine. “Because that’s what we are.”
Friends.