Read Online Breaking Point by Alex Flinn - Free Book Online Page A

said, “All of them?” When Charlie nodded, Meat said, “What’ll we do with, like, three hundred bagels?”
    Charlie grinned. “Question is, what will they do with no bagels at breakfast time?” The smile vanished. “Take them.”
    â€œWicked.” Meat laughed and shoved me at the door. I opened it, feet still heavy with sleep, wine making me powerless to resist Meat’s push. I stumbled forward, found my balance, and followed Meat to the doorway. All the time, I heard Binky’s words, The pretty apples are the poisonous ones . But that was just something she’d said because she was jealous. Smothering me, like Mom. I took another swig from the bottle I still held, somehow, reached for the bag. Heavier than it looked, its plastic caught in my fingers. I hefted it onto my back. Meat lifted his without effort. We walked to the truck. Meat hurled his bag into the cargo area, and I followed. I wondered what the storekeeper would do—for a second. Charlie reached over the seat back, and we high-fived.
    â€œGood job, men!” Charlie said, and St. John started the car like he already knew where we were going.
    â€œWe def, we fly,” St. John was singing.
    â€œWhat are you, a rapper?” Meat asked, and St. John clammed up.
    Next stop was the park. St. John pulled beside the playground, and he, Charlie, and Meat left the car, slamming doors because there was no one to hear. I followed, slower.
    â€œWe used to hang here as kids,” Meat explained as we pulled the bagel bags out the back door.
    I thought of Binky’s church, of swinging in the September humidity. But it was October, cooler.
    â€œNow, we still party here,” St. John added.
    We opened the bags. Charlie pulled out smaller bags holding sesame, garlic, and pumpernickel bagels. He threw them at us. I caught one. Salt. I hated salt. Still, I kept it. “Over there.” Charlie pointed to the playground. I stumbled across the patchy sand to the merry-go-round and sat. “Leave the wine in the car,” Charlie had said. Meat sat beside me, then St. John on my other side. When Charlie came, he shoved between St. John and me. He’d hidden the big bagel bag in the back, then shut the tailgate. Were they as drunk as I was? Charlie wasn’t, so I kept quiet, not wanting to sound stupid. In fact, we were all silent, eating our bagels, soft and gummy, still hot in the cool night. The hard salt punished my mouth, but I didn’t care.
    Charlie broke the silence. “Know what makes me mad?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “If people, teachers, our parents, saw us tonight, they’d say, ‘They’re just a bunch of kids.’”
    â€œWe are kids,” St. John said.
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” Meat said. “My parents are kids compared to me.”
    St. John considered that. “We’re old enough to drive,” he said. “Old enough to screw.”
    I thought, briefly, of Amanda Colbert.
    â€œOld enough to die,” Meat said.
    â€œExactly.” Charlie bit a bagel and chewed it. We all waited, in case he had something else to say. He swallowed. “Remember those kids who shot up that school? Killed, like, fourteen people. All the jocks, people who gave them a hard time.” The merry-go-round swayed beneath us.
    â€œThat’s screwed up,” St. John said.
    â€œYeah,” Meat said. “Weird when stuff like that happens.”
    Charlie said, “Yeah. Mostly because it’s stuff you thought about doing yourself, taking charge like that. Taking control, making the bastards pay.” He pulled out a second bagel. “Not that any of us would do it for real, of course.”
    â€œâ€™Course not,” St. John said. “But everyone acts like you might.”
    â€œâ€™Cause we’re young,” Meat said.
    â€œWe’re shit,” St. John said.
    â€œShit,” I echoed, because I