Spud by Patricia Orvis Read Free Book Online Page B

soaking in the AC.
    “There they are!” Spud says, as he jogs to catch his druggie pals, when we’ve walked
the few minutes to the park. I can’t run with him or the bottles of beer in my duffel
will shake up. It’s cool. I’m in no hurry to hang with his friends.
    “What the hell is he doing here?” Spud approaches Tyson and Steve and notices the
infamous Mike, the idiot cop’s son from home, with them. What the hell?
    “Relax, we’re all friends,” an already drunk Steve says. “This is Tyson’s cousin,
Mike.”
    “You two are cousins?” Spud is incredulous, almost speechless, looking at them wide-eyed.
    Tyson, brown hair, choppy and lengthy like Spud’s, has on navy blue swim trunks and
a white tee. He looks a little dangerous, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the
other, a straight look on his face. He takes a slow puff of his cigarette, eying
me. Sheesh! Steve has a more friendly look in his green eyes, his blond hair cut
crew style, and is dressed like Tyson. Not like twins, but the same concept. On the
other hand, there is a drunkenness to Mike, odd because he’s supposed to be always
playing by the rules, with his dad being the Mr. Cop and all. For some reason, Mike
seems a bit off, ready to do anything that’s new, exciting, wild today. He’s all
hopping around like he’s real sugared up or something. Got a strange look in his
eyes. Makes me nervous.
    “Well, never thought I’d be hanging with you, country crooner,” Mike slurs and gives
Spud a light punch on the arm. Spud, though, recoils, disgusted. “Let’s bury the
hatchet for a day and be pals?” Mike tries.
    “Whatever. Don’t even talk to me, and maybe we’ll be fine. Just shut up now,” Spud
warns. He whispers to me, “You believe this sh--?”
    I’m shocked. I thought for sure he’d avoid Mike at all costs. He must really want
to hang at this stupid park with his stupid friends, or maybe he just realized since
the boys are already buzzed, there’s no point in trying to argue. Whatever.
    “Dude, who’s up for a swim?” asks Steve, setting down a bottle of Bud. They had their
own stash prior to our addition of Miller. “Let’s walk up the bridge and jump, then
swim back here for our final refreshments. I can’t stay too late tonight. Ma wants
me home to be sure I get up early for some family funeral thing. Some uncle croaked
from heat stroke.”
    How cold is that? No pun intended, but that’s certainly not so nice. I’ve misjudged
him. This heat and the deaths from it are serious, and this idiot is acting like
it’s some inconvenience to him. Real swell.
    “Yep, let’s get moving then,” Mike says, taking off his sweaty plain blue tee shirt.
    “I’m in!” Spud says, taking a large swig from his bottle.
    Looks like they’re all game, but I’m not so sure. Steve hasn’t said anything, but
it’s like he’s the mastermind here. All is going according to his plan or something.
    “Yo, Jackson, what’s the hold up?” asks Tyson, getting off his tee, waiting for me
to agree to the adventure.
    “Um, I’m just not sure. You all go ahead. I should probably watch our stuff. Just
don’t take forever.”
    “Come on,” whines Spud, jokingly, kinda. “You don’t wanna miss the rush! Ya gotta
take some chances, bud. Sink or swim, you know?”
    “No, it’s cool. I really don’t care for that, Spud. You know, you shouldn’t do it
either. It’s not safe, and it’s illegal. Who knows what’s in the river or what the
current will do. And not now. I thought you all weren’t gonna drink until after the
swim.”
    “We were thirsty. In fact, I still am, so I wanna a couple drinks before we do anything,”
Mike insists and settles on the ground, cross-legged. He really doesn’t need anymore.
“Pop a squat, you all. Plus, we should get rid of some of our evidence here before
we go moving.”
    He’s convinced them, and swigging the alcohol, they sigh, sitting in a circle, which
I’m a part of and gripe about