Read Online The Grown Ups by Robin Antalek - Free Book Online Page B

a little bit, okay? Just for a walk.” What he really needed was to get the homework from Mindy, and he knew his father wouldn’t stop him from going out on a school night. He had been very lenient since his mother left. If Sam let him think he was more upset about his mother than he really was, well, so what? He stood and gathered his books and turned to leave the room.
    â€œSam?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI won’t keep you from your mother. However much time you need, you take that? Okay, son?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWe both still love you very much.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI’m here if you want to talk. Or you can always call your brother.”
    Sam shook his head without speaking and let the back door slam harder than he intended. He immediately regretted the effect it would have on his father.
    He stayed at Mindy’s that night until he knew his father would be snoring in his chair in front of the television, a lukewarm cup of tea by his side, just so they wouldn’t have the chance to talk.
    When Sam got back to Michael’s apartment, Michael was waiting for him with a beer. “Happy hour, bro,” he said as he handed him a frosty can. “Fucking Friday.”
    Sam closed his hand around the beer and Michael tapped his beer against Sam’s and took a long swill. Sam watched the muscles in Michael’s neck constrict as the liquid flowed. This was the most enthusiastic greeting he had gotten from his brother in a long time. Possibly ever.
    â€œDrink up,” Michael commanded. “We have places to go and be seen.”
    Sam lifted the can to his lips and drank even through the stabbing pain in his left eye from the shock of the cold beer. He finished about half and then came up for air, squinting over at Michael. His brother laughed and opened the refrigerator, grabbing two more beers and opening one. “Come on, put this in your pocket.” He tossed the unopened beer to Sam and walked out of the kitchen.
    Sam ran to catch up. His empty stomach churned from the beer. He would have liked some food, but Michael didn’t seem to be offering. He wondered if their father had told Michael to expect a dinner.
    Michael jogged down each flight of stairs and waited briefly on the landings for Sam to catch up. By the time they hit the front door to his building Michael had finished his second beer and Sam had finished his first. “Hey,” Sam said, already beginning to feel a little buzzed from the beer. “You hungry or—?”
    â€œThere will be food, Sammy, never fear.”
    Sam drained the second beer as they walked up College Hill. Michael walked slightly ahead of him, just far enough that Sam couldn’t ask where they were going. He veered left abruptly in front of a small clapboard house surrounded by an iron fence.Michael’s bike, without the front tire, was chained to the fence.
    Michael opened the front door into a dimly lit, cramped hallway that smelled sharply of curry and made Sam’s left nostril begin to run. He followed Michael up a steep staircase to a landing where three open doors were shrouded with tapestries and an even stronger aroma of Indian spices prevailed. Against the walls were canvases of all shapes and sizes, some turned in, exposing the T-bar of stretcher, and others facing out. The paintings looked a lot like those Sam had noticed in Michael’s room.
    Michael lifted the corner of the closest tapestry and beckoned Sam inside. The room was decorated with a thousand twinkling white Christmas tree lights. People were everywhere, more people than Sam imagined could fit into the space, along with even more paintings. The mood was festive but mellow.
    Sam sniffled and followed Michael deeper into the apartment, where the smell of food intensified. Sam was practically drooling when they reached a table laden with exotic-looking dishes. “Go ahead, grab a plate,” Michael said, pointing to a