socks and dangled their feet in the cool water. They balled up their shirts, and leaned back on the hot rock, using their shirts as pillows as they laid in the sun.
“Do you come over here much?” asked Ben.
“Nope, not very often. My friend Mark showed it to me one time. His dad used to work for the sand and gravel place.”
“Jeez, I’d be down here all the time, this place is neat,” said Ben.
“Well we haven’t really had the chance. I mean, I’ve only lived here a couple of years, and that stuff with that Vigue kid. I couldn’t even leave the house for like two months,” said Jack.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had to go everywhere with my brother. Doesn’t that kid live right near you?”
“Well, he
“How old is he — the kid I mean?” asked Ben.
“I don’t know, maybe six or something. He was just a little kid,” Jack said and paused, then asked “Hey, what do you think got into our food last night?”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I think there’s only one answer… The
“Yeah, real funny,” said Jack.
“Wow, lighten up already.”
“Seriously though — that was something big that took down that cooler,” said Jack.
“Probably just a raccoon or something,” replied Ben.
“Have you ever heard of a raccoon figuring out how to break into a food stash hung fifteen feet up?” asked Jack. “How did it know to chew that rope?”
“We’re not talking about any old raccoon here, dude. If you haven’t noticed, that’s one nice neighborhood you live in. You probably have some well-educated animals patrolling those yards,” joked Ben.
They laid in the sun for several minutes without talking.
“You know, I’m starting to get hungry — maybe we should get out moving,” said Ben.
“Yeah, let’s get wet first,” replied Jack.
They deemed the water too cold for full immersion, but decided to dip their heads and splashed around a bit before heading back to the path. On the way out of the pit they found a proper trail back to the power lines and marked it with their swiss army knives — peeling a small amount of bark from selected trees.
The trip back was significantly shorter than their trip out. They made it back to the house a little after noon.
Their raided cooler didn’t hold much in the way of appealing lunch material, so they relented and decided to visit the kitchen. Inside, Jack’s mom was doing laundry.
“There you are — Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Jack’s mom.
“Just a minute, mom, we’re making sandwiches,” replied Jack.
“Now, Bub,” she said. His mom directed him into the laundry room while Ben busied himself with his sandwich and pretended to ignore the conversation.
“Jack, do you remember the conditions you agreed to when we said you could camp out this summer?” she asked Jack. Her voice was gentle, but her face stern.
“Yes, we had to keep a clean site, no fires after ten, dinner with the family twice a week,” Jack slowed, “um, shower every other day.”
His mom cut him off — “And you’ll check in if you’re leaving the property? Ring a bell?”
“Oh yeah, check in.”
“Where’d you go this morning?”
“Oh, I’m sorry — we didn’t even think of it. We went to the power lines,” said Jack.
“Jack! You need to check with me before wandering off like that — that is not acceptable.”
“Yes, mom.”
“Okay, yes, but I need to know you’ve gotten the message,” she said.
“Yes, I got it,” he replied.
“Just to be sure — you’ll stay here the rest of the day. You’ll have your shower today, and then you’ll have dinner with us tonight.”
“Okay,” said Jack. He looked at his feet — there was no use arguing with his mom.
“It’s not the end of the world — you can put your stuff away in the rec-room while you’re here. Then you won’t have to worry about that for the rest of the summer.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, then,” she said. “Go eat your sandwich.”
He started to leave, and she called him back. “Jack, one other thing — I put fresh sheets on the guest bed. Tell Ben he can sleep there tonight.”
“We have to sleep
“Just tonight. You can go back to your camp tomorrow.”
“Alright,” he moaned.
He returned to the kitchen with his shoulders slumped. Ben had a mouthful of sandwich. He looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows.
“I got in trouble because we went for hike without letting her know. We have to stay here tonight,” Jack said.
Ben swallowed. “Big deal — just one night, right?” he said and picked up his sandwich again. “I miss TV anyway.”
They both laughed.
After eating and getting cleaned up, the boys spent a couple hours in the basement rec-room. Jack knew the minimum amount of effort he would have to show to get his mom’s approval that he had attempted to clean up his stuff. Ben spent most of the time laying on the couch and reading a bicycle magazine he had found.
When they were finished downstairs, they headed up to Jack’s room. They played video games, watched TV, and talked until they were completely bored. Eventually they invented a game where they shot rubber bands at each other until one of them got hurt. After pausing for a few minutes they would be back to shooting.
“So what’s your dad doing this summer?” asked Jack.
“He’s representing some tribe suing California,” said Ben.
“Huh. For what?”
“Who knows. Ow! You got me right in the eye,” said Ben. They both laughed as Ben rubbed his eye.
They said simultaneously — “It’s only fun and games if someone gets hit in the eye.” That had been their mantra the summer before last.
“Remember the forbidden race?” asked Jack.
“I remember who still holds the world record,” bragged Ben.
They had invented a race in Ben’s basement during a week of rain, two summers before. It had involved rolling an office chair through all the rooms of the basement while gripping the arm rests. The floor was tile and they reached improbable speeds — pushing off against walls and furniture. The race had become “The Forbidden Race” when Ben had knocked over a bookshelf. A crash of books had summoned Ben’s mother who had banned the game. After that they had to race very quietly, and only when they were sure she wouldn’t hear.
For Jack, that had been the last fun week that summer. The following weekend Stephen had shown up. Stephen was the son of friends of Ben’s parents. Apparently, they had played together when they were four, so the parents all assumed that the kids should still be best friends. Jack considered himself Ben’s only legitimate best friend and resented the intrusion.
To make things worse, Stephen felt the need to brag about everything and devise ways to drive a wedge between Jack and Ben.
“Dinner time,” Jack’s mom called from downstairs.
The boys raced down the stairs.
