Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny by Tony Bertauski Read Free Book Online

watching.”
    “Let him watch. We’re not doing
anything.”
    Mr. Thomas sipped from a can, staring out the
window. I tapped on the steering wheel, counting the seconds. Chute
flipped the visor back. “All done. How do I look?”
    The dashboard glow softly lit her face.
Sometimes I forgot time when I looked at her. She was beautiful.
Most would agree, but it was different for me. Her face moved me,
deeply. Her smile. The way her eyes crinkled in the corners. Her
energy swirled sweetly, vibrating somewhere inside me.
    “What?” she said. “Do I still look like the
Hulk?”
    “No.” I turned the car off. “Let’s go
in.”
    The doors slammed in the quiet night. We
hooked our fingers as we walked up the concrete ramp. Chute pushed
open the front door.
    “There she is!” Mr. Thomas’s voice boomed
from inside the house. “There’s my Annie-darling!”
    Chute ran through the house. Her dad wheeled
in from the kitchen. She kissed him on the cheek then walked behind
him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Annie was her birth name,
but her father was the only one that called her that.
    “You letting the mosquitoes inside to breed,
boy?” Mr. Thomas shouted. “Get in here and shut the door!”
    I closed the door and came inside. Mr. Thomas
held out his thick hand and shook mine and then Angela came running
into the front room screaming. Chute laced her fingers with her
sister and they both screeched. Mr. Thomas covered his ears
muttering, “Jesus Christ’s holy shit,” and went to the kitchen for
another beer. Can, not bottle. Mr. Thomas always said bottles were
for girls.
    The girls embraced, still screaming like ten
year olds, bouncing up and down. He took a swig of Budweiser and
watched his daughters celebrate. He flinched when they hit the high
notes, but it never wiped the smile off his face. Angela was a
cheerleader in high school, doing one of her old cheers, kicking
her leg up high and shaking her hands. “A-W-E-S-O-M-E! Awesome.
Awesome. To-tally!”
    Chute imitated her, but was laughing too hard
to keep up. Mr. Thomas’s laugh boomed over the top of them. “You
see that, Socket? They’re taunting me with their perfectly working
legs.”
    “Oh, stop it, Daddy,” Angela said, not
breaking stride.
    Mr. Thomas put his beer on the table and
wheeled over to the girls. He expertly leaned back and pulled a
wheelie, moving in time to the dance. The girls kicked out like
Russian dancers while Mr. Thomas wheeled back and forth. The cheer
broke down when the girls fell down laughing.
    “Let’s see that award, girl!” Mr. Thomas
shouted.
    The girls lay on the floor, catching their
breath. Mr. Thomas waited at the table. The globe was by the front
door, so I fetched it. He muttered thank you. And then the energy
changed.
    He gazed into the globe like there was
something inside, oblivious to the ruckus on the other side of the
kitchen. His eyes glassed up. Mr. Thomas was not the type to get
misty, but the water in his eyes reflected the kitchen light. He
held the globe close to his nose. His breath was choppy.
    Angela leaped up when she saw the award,
leaned over her father, hands on his shoulders, looking into it
much the same way. Chute sat next to them. Suddenly, the house was
very still. Mr. Thomas’s lips started to move, but they didn’t say
anything. Angela felt him quiver, hooked her arm around his
neck.
    “Mom would be so proud, Chute,” she said.
    Mr. Thomas took Chute’s hand. She laid her
head on his shoulder. Angela wrapped her arms around them. Their
energy intermingled, merging with deep sweet hues, connecting at a
very real, essential level. All barriers stripped away.
    Angela nodded at me. I hesitated. Mr. Thomas
cleared his throat. “Get over here, boy.”
    Chute held out her hand. I took it, joined
them at the table, felt the family essence weave into my being,
their hearts beating through my arm next to my own pulse. I was
five the last time I felt something like that, just before