While the Locust Slept. Peter Razor

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      “Be careful, lots of rattlers hereabouts,” Mrs. Hanson said. She handed me a glass of milk. “Shouldn’t have to worry none by the creek.”

      Beginning below the Hansons’ house, Ed and Lyle took me along a trail used by trout fishermen. As we meandered with the creek toward the highway, the afternoon heat picked up.

      “Want to cool off?” Ed asked. We sat at the edge of a large pool. It was two breaststrokes across and maybe chest deep.

      “Yeah,” I said. “Why not?”

      “Because we’d freeze,” Lyle said. “It’s spring fed.”

      “You guys chicken?” Ed asked slipping out of his pants and shirt and wading in.

      “Not me,” I said as I stripped. “I should rinse off, anyway.”

      “You guys are crazy,” Lyle said, but he followed us in anyway. After getting myself completely wet, including my hair, I rinsed my clothes and hung them, shorts and all, on a bush. Ed and Lyle kept their shorts on, while we lay together in a sunny spot. A car whined down the distant hill, but we chattered on. Before we knew it, the car was too close for me to grab my shorts, and I lay face down while my friends sat back chuckling.

      “Say Ed, do you think the Mort girl is in that car?” he asked, laughing.

      “Can’t say,” Ed said. “Could be the Ladies Aide from the ridge.” He pretended to be horrified. “Mom’ll find out and I won’t hear the end of it. ‘Dear me,’ she’ll say, ‘talk is, you and them orphans was running stark nekkid around the creek.’ ”

      “I’m only half naked,” I said. “I’m face down, I mean.”

      The car slowed but didn’t stop and was gone in no time. We were still laughing as we dressed. Ed turned to me and pointed south. “Getting on to chore time,” he said. We waved Lyle off as though we were headed home from school, but in truth it was much harder to leave them that day.