Sharpshooter by Chris Lynch Read Free Book Online

…”
    No rude boys here, I have to say. Crybabies and mama’s boys, maybe, but the manners are grade A. Everyone is standing, milling, preparing to leave before the echo of my clap is even dead. Both Mom and Dad scramble out of the room with a sense of purpose.
    We see that purpose when we tromp to the front hallway and find a small honor guard: Mom and Dad, on either side of the doorway, waiting to see the boys through. First through is Morris.
    Dad shakes his hand so hard I can feel it five feet away. He winces just a bit.
    â€œBring the maximum of death to the minimum of people,” Dad says. Morris then turns around to face my mother, who kisses him, hugs him, and hangs a scapular around his neck. It’s like a fabric necklace with a sort of postage-stamp Jesus face hanging off it.
    Beck steps up, and it feels a whole lot like Mass because my mother is all kinds of Catholic.
    â€œâ€¦ maximum of death to the minimum of people.”
    It is a variation, anyway, on the Mass.
    â€œRudi,” Dad says, his first diversion from the script. “Follow orders. Follow every single last order, son, and follow it all the way.”
    â€œOw,” Rudi says.
    Mom kisses him, scapularizes him, hugs him for an extra-long time — about the time of the other guys combined.
    My parents have done their thing and nod at me as they melt away. They are nodding that they know this is our moment. Me and my boys, finally … no, not finally , but for now having our farewell. Our time. When my parents go, I stand in the doorway, the three other stooges on my porch, under a yellow light and a squadron of moths.
    We stare in silence. This is our big moment , apparently.
    â€œSee ya,” I say.
    Beck laughs out loud, waves me off, and starts down the stairs. Morris shakes his head in amazement, slaps me five, and follows. Rudi stands there, staring at me.
    I stare back. “Follow orders,” I say. “Go.”
    I snap off the light right over his head.
    He stares.
    They call for him to come, already pulling away.
    I close the door on Rudi.
    Â 
    After a sleep slashed open with excitement, I am up with the crickets, still at it. I skip my parents’ bedroom altogether just like I told them I would. I grab my bag and I head to my new life, my always life, my destiny.
    I open the door to Rudi.
    â€œOh, man,” I say.
    No indication either way if he has been frozen in that spot all night or just managed to hit his spot precisely, but I don’t care.
    â€œI don’t care,” I say, sweeping right past him.
    â€œI wanna talk,” he says.
    â€œRude, y’know, I got something kind of important to do this morning.”
    He’s at my heels like a puppy as I make my way down the street toward the bus station.
    â€œI wanna talk,” he says. “I can’t believe you don’t wanna talk.”
    â€œI don’t wanna talk.”
    â€œI wanna talk.”
    â€œI don’t wanna.”
    â€œI wanna.”
    Rudi loses at absolutely everything. Except this. He can do this forever.
    â€œI don’t wanna.”
    â€œYou can’t do that.”
    â€œI can do that.”
    â€œYou can’t.”
    I stop in my tracks, and he bangs right into the back of me. We converse just like this.
    â€œThere is nothing to talk about, Rudi. We’re soldiers now. Fighters. We don’t talk, we do .”
    He is pressed against the back of me, breathing on the spot where my brain stem meets my spinal cord.
    â€œThis is getting kind of weird, Rudi.”
    He continues doing what he’s doing.
    â€œAre you trying to communicate directly with my central nervous system? If you are, knock it off.”
    â€œI wanna go with you,” he says, shaky. “I should just go with you.”
    I spin on him, somewhere between horrified and homicidal. I could choke him now, which may be the best thing for everybody.
    I am even looking at his neck as I spin around, so