Read Online War and Watermelon by Rich Wallace - Free Book Online Page B

replies. “Just killing time.”
    â€œWe got school in two weeks,” Tony says. “Less than that, even. Where’d the summer go?”
    Patty yawns. “Two weeks is a long time.”
    â€œYou going to Franklin?” Tony asks.
    Patty shakes her head slowly. “We’ll still be here.” She nods back toward the church.
    Corpus Christi goes from first grade through eighth, but I know a lot of kids who’ve gone back and forth from there to the public schools. They say the nuns are nasty teachers. Who knows if that’s true. I’ve had some nasty teachers at Euclid, too, but mostly not.
    We sit there for about five minutes, talking about nothing. I used to have friends who were girls back when I was little, but things shifted a lot the past couple of years. By fourth grade you got ragged on just for talking to one, but in fifth some couples started pairing up. By sixth grade you either had a girlfriend or you didn’t, and everybody knew who didn’t.
    So this feels different, sitting here, watching cars go by and listening to Tony yammering about music and television shows. Janet definitely seems to like him, laughing at things he says that are really lame. Patty keeps looking out at the street like there’s something interesting going on out there.
    I figure there must be, too. I just don’t know what it is yet.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 21:
    Kind of Poetic
    T hey had another night swim tonight, but there was no sign of Patty and Janet.
    â€œThey can’t make it too obvious,” Tony says as we’re walking up the hill. “Believe me, they know what they’re doing.”
    The sun is down, but there’s still a bit of light. I’m dragging my butt, worn out from another hard practice. It cooled off about a quarter degree, so the coaches had us running lots of laps and sprints.
    My hair is dripping; we were the last ones out of the pool at nine, and the lifeguards hustled us through the gate in a hurry.
    As we get near my house, we see Ryan and my father in the driveway. My dad is yelling at Ryan, but not loud enough that we can hear him. He yells in a way that doesn’t carry, but it pierces.
    I look at Tony.
    â€œGuess I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he says.
    â€œRight.” I hesitate for a few seconds, then head up our sidewalk.
    â€œDo you have any idea how hot it gets in that car during the day?” Dad is saying. “It’s been in the nineties all week; it’s probably been a hundred and forty in the car.”
    â€œMom made us take it.”
    â€œShe didn’t make you leave it in my backseat for the hottest week of the year!”
    I swallow hard. Did those hitchhikers leave pot in the car?
    The back hatch is open. Ryan reaches in and grimaces as he lifts out a dripping chunk of green and brown goop.
    The watermelon.
    â€œIt’s bad enough you put your little brother in jeopardy with that all-night stunt at the hippie circus,” Dad says. “But you stink my car up to high heaven with a rotten corpse.”
    â€œI haven’t even been in the car since we got back.”
    â€œOh, hell’s bells, Ryan. You’re the one who left the stupid melon in there.”
    Ryan keeps pulling bits of the melon out of the back and tossing them over the hedges that line the driveway.
    â€œYou’ll need to scrub that floor clean,” Dad says.
    Ryan frowns and nods. “I will.”
    â€œKeep the hatch open all day tomorrow so the sun can shine on that spot,” Dad says. “Make sure it doesn’t rain.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    Dad goes in the house. Ryan flicks a bit of rotten melon at me and smiles.
    I duck out of the way. “That’s gross.”
    We take a seat on the curb. Ryan starts laughing. “Dad drove down to the hardware store after dinner. He said he’s driving around wondering what smells so bad. So he rolls up the windows because he figures it must be outside.