Spindle Lane. Mark Reefe

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СКАЧАТЬ looked up from his script. I knew his blank expression was an act. He was seconds away from going nuclear. “What was that?”

      A queasy feeling rose in my stomach, but for some reason I couldn’t stop. “You heard me. At least I know a lousy movie when I see it.”

      My brother had entered a growth spurt when he turned fifteen. When Mongo stood up now, he stretched over six feet tall. I, on the other hand, barely made it to a lame five foot four. “What lousy movie are you talking about?”

      Now that I had his attention, I had to zing him, let him know he should think twice before dismissing me as his stupid kid brother. I spat out the first movie that came to mind. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe Space Wars. I mean, talk about a rip off. All you did was take Star Wars and switch out the title.”

      He walked to the edge of my bed. It was just a matter of time. “Everybody liked that movie. Mom and Dad said it was one of the best ones yet.” Steve smirked. “And you seemed to have plenty of fun being in it as I recall.” He turned and started back to his masterpiece in the making.

      Time to poke the bear with a sharp stick. “Yeah, it was fun acting in it, but the whole thing still sucked. They were just being nice to you. The movie stunk it up more than a fart in an elevator.”

      I sprang off the bed but couldn’t escape his hands in such tight quarters. He grabbed me by the neck and slammed me into the closet. The whack to the back of my head wasn’t as bad as it sounded, but it still left me seeing stars. Steve was in full-on Hulk mode now. Next, he tossed me to the ground and planted a freakishly large foot on my chest. Leaning down, he smiled. “At least I’m doing something with my life and not daydreaming about fairies and dumbass dwarves!”

      I reached up and was able to grab a fistful of hair.

      “Wow, look at how the sissy fights! Grabbing hair like a girl!”

      Frustrated, I let go. As he straightened up and loomed over me, I did the only thing I could think of. Thrusting my right leg up, I arched my back to get a little more momentum. The result was a well-planted but somewhat lacking groin shot.

      Steve grunted and stumbled off me as he cupped his tenders.

      I jumped to my feet and swung.

      Avoiding my punch by a mile, Steve pushed me back onto my bed.

      As he pounced on top of me, I grabbed his shirt in an effort to try and pull myself up. The rip of polyester was unmistakable.

      We froze.

      “You tore my shirt!” he yelled.

      I said the only thing I could think of, “I know!”

      As quickly as it started, the brawl was over. Being the biggest and strongest, Steve had the final word when it came to ending our fights. This time it didn’t work out so bad for me, so I was more than happy to call it quits.

      Steve stormed off to the bathroom to assess the damage to his shirt. Before slamming the door, he shouted, “And don’t forget to shut the bedroom window, you little stain! You’re lucky I did before the rain came and almost ruined my script!”

      Chapter 6

      For the next couple of days, I held dominion over the realms of monsters and men as dungeon master extraordinaire while Kevin hunted down the cunning but cowardly drow as he ventured deep into the bowels of the Earth. When we weren’t neck-deep in dark elves and gnomes, we were at the pool secretly hoping in vain for a sighting of Melissa Casey and crew. Having a friend as cool as Kevin to hang out with was great, but the sun was never far from my mind or, more specifically, its closeness to the horizon. Another late night encounter with my mysterious pen pal wasn’t at the top of my summer bucket list.

      Kevin came over Wednesday and crashed at my house. After stuffing ourselves on pizza from Happy Italian, we took a break from gaming and mellowed out in front of the tube watching Planet of the Apes on the sofa bed. The next thing I knew, Kevin nudged me awake. I snorted to semi-consciousness while a lone eagle soared across the television screen to a chorus of the national anthem.

      “You’re not already asleep, are you?”

      I yawned out a, “Nooo.”

      “Good.” Kevin rolled off the sofa bed and grabbed his duffel bag. A goofy grin split on his face as he plopped it in front of me and unzipped it. He reached in and then paused for dramatic effect, whispering, “My ass would be grass if my dad knew I smuggled this from the house.” He pulled out what looked like a gun.

      “Holy crap! Is that a forty-five?”

      Kevin squinted and cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, sure. My parents let me have a gun. I got a bazooka under my bed I’ll bring over next time.” He tossed it to me. “It’s a BB gun, Sherlock.”

      Pointing to a switch on the side of it, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “The BBs go in there—it holds up to twenty. All you do is pull the receiver back to load one. Then just aim and squeeze the trigger.”

      My interest in all things Bruce Lee led to a rather impressive collection of throwing stars, nunchakus, sai swords, and such, but I didn’t own a BB gun. I had to admit it was very cool. The cold steel felt good in my hands and made me feel like Dirty Harry.

      “Want to try her out?” Kevin asked.

      He knew I did. Only a blind man could have missed my ear-to-ear grin. But where the heck did he think we could shoot? Both the garage and backyard were way too risky. All it would take was a broken window or dinged car door and I’d be grounded until college. “Where?”

      “I know the perfect spot. Put your sneakers on.”

      I felt my stomach drop. Sooner or later I knew I’d have to venture back out into the dark, but I was hoping it would have been later rather than sooner. It was still too early in our friendship for me to tell Kevin about my late night stalker. I didn’t want to spook him. For now, he thought I was actually a normal fifteen-year-old, and I wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. At least it was the two of us this time, and we were armed.

      The humid night air turned the streetlights into huge will-o’-the-wisps. With great speed and ninja-like stealth, we crossed Spindle and entered the Colberts’ side yard wading through the very bushes my pen pal had been hiding in just three days past. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m pretty sure my stomach dropped even lower.

      The side yard led us to a wide open field. On the far end stood the Belair Baptist Church. Kevin pointed to it. “That’s our objective. There shouldn’t be much traffic on Belair this time of night, but if you hear a car coming or see light, drop flat on the ground and wait. We’re far enough away from the street that nobody should be able to make us out, but you never know.”

      He was off, running at full sprint. I took a deep breath and followed close behind. We made it to the rear of the church without encountering any late night traffic and hunched down in the shadow of a fenced-off dumpster to catch our breath.

      I couldn’t take the mystery anymore. “Dude, where the hell are we going?”

      Kevin smiled as his eyes crawled up the side of the church, stopping only when they reached its flat rooftop.

      I СКАЧАТЬ