Freewill by Chris Lynch Read Free Book Online

all backing up, so I know you’ve not been drinking it.”
    â€œSorry, Pops,” you say. You both know you have no intention of drinking the V8.
    For a while the two of you merely crouch there, facing the decaying skull of a creature that was once as big as both of you. Are you waiting for it to speak? You look like you are waiting for it to speak. It probably won’t, you know.
    â€œSchool called,” Pops says.
    â€œAs they do,” you say.
    â€œYou need to go, Will.”
    â€œI do go.”
    â€œYes, but you need to go all the time.”
    â€œOh. Okay.” Like this is news to you. You both also know this is not likely to happen.
    â€œHave you been stealing stuff from the school, Will?”
    â€œNo way. Did somebody say that? Who would say that?”
    â€œFella named Jacks. Shop teacher.”
    â€œThose were mine. I made those.”
    â€œBut they are really school property, yes?”
    â€œTechnically. He just wants me to make a stupid gnome for his mother. She can steal them but I can’t.”
    â€œSo just make the stupid gnome. Then go back to what you want to do.”
    A monster wave builds and builds, and the two of you are pulled, watching the rearing up, the building and cresting and crashing of it. Tide coming in now, and the frothy fingers come touching the tuna just slightly. Won’t be long.
    â€œRight, then after that he wants me to make her a whirligig. It’s not going to end.”
    â€œSo speed it up. Make him a gnomeygig.”
    You smile, but you don’t half mean it. It is not lost on you, where you are at, and why you are at it. You know, don’t you, Will? And Pops knows, because he is one of the architects.
    â€œI’m not a fucking case, Pops.”
    â€œIt’s not like that.”
    â€œYes it is. I’m in the fucking rehab ward. I’m in with thedead-enders. Everyone there is either stupid or dangerous or hiding out. It’s for people who don’t want to go to normal school. I want to go to normal school, Pops. Why did you stick me in there? I don’t belong there. I’m supposed to be a pilot.”
    Now he stands, and backs up. “Tide’s coming in fast now,” he says, to make like that is what he is backing away from. The wave comes closer this time, coming up all around the jaw of the tuna, giving it a white Abe Lincoln beard, and you wet shoes. “Come back out of there, Will. You are wet enough already.”
    You get to your feet and take a couple steps back.
    â€œStop scratching, dammit,” Pops says.
    You are taxing Pop’s patience again, Will. Must you do that? Are you aware you are doing it? Of course you are. You know this is hard for him. You know he is trying. You know what he can and cannot do. He is renowned for what he can and cannot do. Why do you want to make it harder than it already is?
    Could it be harder than it already is? For either of you?
    â€œIf I’m going to be stuck in occupational therapy, in special programs —did you know that, Pops, that they call that special programs ? Of course you did. But did you know that it’s called Hopeless High by the locals? Bet you didn’t.”
    You think? You really think he didn’t know? Debatable. Do you want a debate?
    â€œListen,” Pops says carefully, but not quietly. He has to growl somewhat to beat the crash of the surf, but also, he has to growl to beat you. “You agreed. We had an agreement. You were going to try. So. Try.”
    The agreement . Remember the agreement? If Pops was going to agree to be stuck with you, then you were going to agree to try and get normal? Sure you recall.
    â€œI am trying.”
    â€œNot really. You have your father’s gift for drama.”
    Oh. We can ignore that. Do you do yourself any favors if you react? You don’t have to. Will, you don’t have to. Are you rising to the bait? Your tuna friend rose to the bait. Look at