Read Online Tag Along by Tom Ryan - Free Book Online Page B

actually spray-painted the walls of their rental apartment. I’d never even heard of a thing like that.
    Obviously I knew that graffiti was his thing—that was how I had met him, standing around in the shadows, watching him and his buddies throw up a huge burner underneath an overpass. To see how seriously he took it though—living in the middle of it…It was inspiring to see that kind of dedication.
    Paul’s house, by contrast, is more of a standard suburban two-and-a-half-kids kind of place. In the porch, hooks are overflowing with coats for all seasons, and shoes and sports equipment jockey for space with full recycling bins. I stand in the doorway and look around as he walks into the kitchen and reads a note stuck to the fridge.
    â€œThey’ve all gone to a movie,” he says. “Shitty. Guess we won’t be taking my mom’s car after all.” He opens the fridge. “You want something to eat?”
    â€œNo, I’m good.”
    He pulls a bowl of potato salad out of the fridge, grabs a fork and starts eating. “I’m starving. Just give me a minute.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œHey, come on in, you don’t have to hang out in the doorway like that,” he says, his mouth full of food. “Sure you don’t want a Coke or something?”
    â€œYeah, why not?”
    He points at the fridge. “Grab me one too, will ya?”
    I get the drinks and then stand for a minute, looking at the pictures that are plastered all over the fridge door. A few random pictures of babies and some wedding photos. Paul with people who must be his parents. Paul with two younger boys who look almost exactly alike. They’re posing on bikes, having a water fight, sitting for school photos.
    â€œTwins?” I ask.
    â€œYeah, my brothers. They’re thirteen.”
    â€œOh my god,” I say, pointing to a picture of a short scrawny teenager in a suit, standing next to an old man. They’re both grinning broadly. “Is this you?”
    He laughs. “Yeah, me and my granddad at my aunt’s wedding. A couple of years ago.”
    â€œHoly shit,” I say. “You must have gone through one hell of a growth spurt after that.” I stop at a more recent picture of Paul with a tall healthy-looking girl with a confident smile and long strawberry-blond hair. Paul is standing beside her, smiling awkwardly.
    â€œThis your girlfriend?” I ask.
    â€œYeah,” he says, reaching past me to open the door and put the potato salad back in the fridge. “That’s Lannie.”
    â€œShe’s hot,” I say.
    â€œYeah, well, that’s Lannie. Listen, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”
    While I wait, I walk into the living room and look around. On one long wall, next to more family pictures, is a shelf full of trophies and ribbons, most of them with Paul’s name on them. I was right: total jock.
    Paul comes bounding back down the stairs, two at a time.
    â€œSo,” he says. “What do you think we should do?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I say. “Your friends must be wondering what happened to us.”
    â€œYeah, no doubt. They’re probably long gone by now.”
    â€œYeah.”
    Then there’s silence. It fills the room, and we both just stand there, looking at each other with no idea what to say.
    â€œWell,” I say, turning toward the kitchen and breaking the moment, “I should leave. I’ve got to go get my backpack.”
    â€œWhy don’t I come with you?” he says. “I have to figure out what to do about that ladder anyway. It’s not that far to the quarry, if you know the right shortcuts. Besides, it’s only nine o’clock. I’m not ready for bed yet.”
    I shrug. My plan of lurking around town by myself has already gone to shit. Besides, I don’t mind spending time with Paul. He isn’t someone I can imagine being friends