The Fort (Aric Davis)

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Authors: Aric Davis
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dad a few times a year. I never see mine. And don’t tell me how that doesn’t count because Carl’s cool. Carl isn’t my dad, and he never will be—he’s just Carl. So yeah, if I went through all the rotten stuff in my life, I bet I could feel pretty bad for myself too, but I don’t. Not everybody has it easy like Tim.”
    “Hey!”
    “I’m just messing with you,” said Scott, punching Tim lightly on the arm, and then turning back to Luke. “You need to look at things like that counselor lady told us: ‘Your glass needs to be half full.’”
    “That’s fine,” said Luke. “But what do I do if I don’t have a glass?”
    “She didn’t say anything about that.”
    “I figured as much,” said Luke. “They never tell us the stuff we really need to know.”

    After a day basically wasted sitting in the fort, Scott was almost excited to go home for dinner. On the way there, he kept his eyes peeled for some sort of disturbance, something glaringly different, but, of course, he saw nothing. That sort of thing seemed to be reserved for the movies, like digging for dinosaur bones and actually finding them.
    The air was cool as he walked through the woods, and he could smell at least one person barbecuing, the smell of suburban summers that never got old.
    Luke was a wreck, there was no debating it, and Scott had no idea what to do for his friend. He wanted to talk to Tim about it, but the three of them were always together, and there was no good time for it. I could call him later , but that would mean he wouldn’t have any privacy. If his mom heard even half of what was happening at Luke’s house, she’d call the cops in a second.
    Scott had a hard time believing it at first. Why would an adult be so shitty at being an adult? It just didn’t make any sense. His dad’s leaving made no sense, and now Luke’s mom, Emma, made no sense. It almost made him question adulthood in general. What if they’re all just faking it? What if none of them has the slightest idea what they’re doing?
    The sight of smoke billowing up from behind his house made Scott whoop with joy. Whatever else had gone wrong with the day, Carl was grilling, and even the worst of days can still finish well with a good dinner.
    Carl was standing in front of the grill, drinking a can of Miller Lite, and Carl never drank during the week. For a very brief moment, Scott was terrified. Maybe everything was falling apart here too, and the goings-on at Luke’s house could be explained away easily: “The adults all went crazy.” Carl’s smile made everything OK, though, and, passing through the kitchen of the house, Scott opened the screen door and went back outside.
    “Scott, my man,” said Carl, finishing the beer and grabbing a fresh one from the cooler at his feet. “How’s it hanging?”
    Not sure how to respond, Scott finally settled on “I’m doing good. What are you making?”
    “Steak,” said Carl, between swigs of beer. “You and I are celebrating. I got some New Yorks from the butcher, and he says they are going to melt in our mouths. I took him at his word and bought the biggest two that he had. Sounds good, right?”
    “Yeah,” said Scott. “It sounds awesome. But what are we celebrating?” Carl finished the second beer in epic time, then cracked a third and took a deep swig. “Well,” said Carl, “between the two of us, I just got promoted at work. Which is pretty cool. Not quite beer-on-a-Tuesday cool or, hell, steak-on-a-night-that-your-mom-works cool, but still pretty cool.
    “And there’s an even cooler part. This wasn’t just a little old raise, this was the spot I’ve been gunning for, and you know what? No more waiting tables for my wife, guaranteed. No more truck leaking oil, either, at least once we get used to the larger checks. I am officially going to be managing a team of guys, instead of just running a machine. Nice, eh?”
    “Mom will really be able to stop working?”
    “Yep. I even considered

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