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

hadn’t said anything yet.
    Charlie threw his bagel in the sand beneath us. “I’m so sick of that. The so-called adults. Think they know it all with their questions.” He clasped his hands together, looking for all the world like my mother. “Charlie, angel, you don’t know anyone with a gun, do you? Do you ever feel angry, honey? Do you ever feel misunderstood?” He turned to me. “Well, do you, Paul?”
    I started. The merry-go-round squealed. St. John and Meat laughed. Finally, I said, “I don’t know.”
    â€œDon’t you, Paul?”
    â€œDon’t you, Paul?” St. John echoed.
    â€œDon’t you, Paul?” Meat, with a giggle.
    Charlie said, “Sure you do, Paul.” He patted my shoulder. “How could you not? The so-called adults don’t understand, do they? They don’t understand about honor. They don’t understand about loving your friends, about taking care of one another.”
    I looked at Charlie. Then, Meat and St. John, a tall shape and a bulky one. Were they my friends? I mean, they never even talked to me at school. Yet Charlie spoke of friendship, love even. And here they were including me, letting me be part of this night. This incredible night.
    â€œRight,” I said.
    â€œThey aren’t like us,” Meat said.
    â€œRight. That’s why I get mad when you two bicker like children.” Charlie gestured toward St. John and Meat. “Or when Einstein here acts like a scared little boy getting to play with the big kids. ’Cause we have to stick together, have to be loyal, respect one another. Have to take control.”
    â€œâ€™Cause everyone thinks we’re scum,” Meat said.
    â€œThey don’t know better,” Charlie said.
    â€œBut we do, right?” St. John said.
    I turned, feeling Charlie’s closeness. He nodded. “Right, Paul?”
    I shifted. Why was Charlie putting me on the spot? But I said, “Right.”
    Before I’d turned to Charlie, I’d been watching down the street. Now, I looked back. A car. A police cruiser, lights off. It curled around the outer edge of the park, closer and closer. Finally, it pulled beside St. John’s truck and stopped.
    â€œShit,” St. John whispered. I felt something like a foot to my stomach.
    â€œBe cool.” Charlie’s eyes narrowed.
    The door opened. The cop stepped out, a short, muscular guy, the kind who became a cop so he could have authority over someone. Like guys Dad knew in the army. Or Dad.
    â€œMorning, boys.”
    â€œMorning, Officer.” Charlie, who was sober, stood.
    The cop eyed us. “I said , good morning, boys.”
    I shifted an arm on the cold, metal bar and said, “Good morning, Officer” with the others. The merry-go-round squeaked. Would they call my mother? I’d rather just die in jail.
    The cop came closer, walking chest-out. “What are you boys doing out this time of night?”
    Again, Charlie picked up the slack. “Waiting for sunrise, sir, reliving childhood memories.” He gestured toward the merry-go-round. “It’s not a school night, sir.”
    â€œLittle breakfast, I see?” The cop gestured toward the bagels, just a small bag. The others were hidden.
    â€œYes, sir. Care for one?” Charlie—how could he be so cool?—Charlie reached for the bag by St. John’s feet.
    The cop stiffened, like he thought Charlie might go for a weapon, then relaxed. “No, thanks.” I heard the grit of sand under my shoes, the sound of night insects, and watched, mesmerized, the strobing light on his squad car, turning, turning. The cop turned on his flashlight, shone it on St. John’s truck. “This your car, son?”
    Charlie nudged St. John, who said, “It’s mine.”
    â€œMind if I have a look?” Without waiting for an answer, the cop walked closer.
    Oh, God . All those bagels. If he saw