Read Online Gentlemen by Michael Northrop - Free Book Online

came straight in through the window and door frames and all the other holes in the place, so that it was almost as light inside as out. The place was full of peeling paint and broken floorboards. There were names carved into the walls, holes punched into the Sheetrock, and empty bottles from older kids who went there to drink.
    It’s pretty much been worked over at this point, but you could see that it was probably a nice little place back in the day. When I was a kid, I used to think about fixing it up and living there. Now I know there’s no way. It’s all rotted out. You’d have to knock it down and start over.
    Anyway, I walked into the little room that used to be the kitchen. The old linoleum tiles were warped in some places and missing in others. I kicked a loose piece against the far wall. There’s a big gap in the tiling that must’ve been where the stove used to be. There’s a thin pipe sticking out of the wall there that was probably for the gas. The stove was in the yard out back now. I’m not sure why anyone would go to the trouble of putting it there, unless they were going to take it with them and changed their mind at the last minute. Like: Oh, man, we can’t take this stove. We got all these windows to carry!
    I went back into the main room—there are only four rooms in the place, plus the attic and basement—and Mixer handed me another beer. It wasn’t as cold this time. I went to lean the BB gun against the wall but just then there was anoise in the attic, a scratchy little sound like scritch-scritch. It might’ve been a shingle falling in from the roof or something like that, but it sort of sounded like something moving.
    â€œThe hell?” I said, and I looked over at Mixer.
    He was like, “Sounded like claws. ”
    So I put down the beer, cocked the BB gun, and fired a shot up into the attic through a hole in the ceiling. I had a couple holes to chose from, so I picked the one that seemed like it was closest to where the sound came from. The Daisy fired with its little pfoot! sound, and we could hear the BB hit the roof and bounce back down onto the attic floor. We waited. Nothing. I fired another shot for good measure, then put down the gun and picked up my beer.
    After a few sips, Mixer and I sat down, backs against the wall.
    â€œTommy’s in deep, huh?” said Mixer, even though we’d covered that topic already.
    â€œYeah, what a head case.”
    â€œYou see Doucheley’s face?”
    â€œNah, I was watching the desk flying across the room,” I said, even though the desk really just sort of flopped up and over.
    â€œYeah, I was watching that, too, but afterwards, Doucheley was like”—and Mixer made this face with his eyes and mouth both wide open. It wasn’t exactly how I remembered it, but it was a pretty funny face so I had a go at making it.
    â€œYeah, that’s it,” said Mixer.
    We sat there drinking for a bit.
    â€œThink he took off again?” Mixer said after a while.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. It hadn’t occurred to me.
    â€œI mean, it hasn’t been that long, but you’d think we’d have heard something from someone. He’s got a cell phone.”
    â€œYeah, but we don’t.”
    â€œHe could’ve called us at home.”
    â€œMaybe he’s calling right now.”
    â€œYeah,” said Mixer, shrugging. “Suspended, though.”
    â€œDefinitely. Maybe a week.”
    â€œHe’s frickin’ crazy. Remember last time, though?”
    He meant the last time Tommy’d taken off, and I had to ask which one that was because, truth was, Tommy’d hit the road a few times.
    â€œManchester,” said Mixer.
    â€œOh, man, yeah. He was crashing with that dude.”
    â€œYeah, good way to get dead.”
    â€œOr worse,” I said, because there’s no doubt there are some sick dudes out there, jonesing for teens