"So long," Joyce said, giving Norma a peck on the cheek before following Denny outside to the garage. As she watched her brother lift the garage door, she said, "You're really weird, Denny. Sometimes your behavior is absolutely kooky."
Finally, and with herculean effort, Denny had thought his hard-on away. Boldly, he turned to face her, hands on his hips. "Just what the fuck are you talking about?" he said. "You're the dingy one!"
"Don't you dare use that kind of language in my presence," Joyce scolded.
"Bullshit," Denny said. "Last night you didn't seem to mind. You loved it."
"Fuck you, Denny Reardon," Joyce said. "I expect to be treated like a sister-a lady."
"Then get your ass on your bike and let's go," he said.
The garage was dark and even cold inside. Martin Reardon used it solely for storage-tools, lawn mower, bicycles, etc.
Denny climbed on his bike and began pedaling down the gravel driveway. Behind him, on her new bike, Joyce wobbled precariously. She managed though, and they turned up a brief incline and then down the hill to Walden Flats Lane. There, they found the main two-lane road that led to the town proper, several miles away. There was little traffic as they rode easily on level ground, passing big trees and antique-looking wood-frame houses set well back from the winding road. They stopped to rest several times and it was nearly half an hour before they took the last bend in the road and entered the town itself. There were small stores, the town square, a movie theater, their father's office and Sherman's Pharmacy.
Still panting from the ride, Denny saw that his sister was really exhausted. "Let's stop at Sherman's for a soda, huh?" he said, breathing hard. "You'll like Mr. Sherman. He's a super guy."
Her black shiny hair mussed from the ride, Joyce nodded agreement. They braked to a halt, got off their bikes, lifted them over the curb, leaned them against the building and went inside. Mrs. Sherman and a hunch-shouldered, weird-looking clean-up man were the only people in sight. When Denny and Joyce sat down at the counter, Mrs. Sherman came over and asked them what they would like.
Denny ordered an orange soda, grinning. Then he said, "Remember me, Mrs. Sherman?"
Peering through her thick glasses, the elderly, gray-haired woman squinted, trying to remember. Suddenly the haggard face beamed and the old woman threw her hands in the air. "Why it's Denny Reardon!" she gasped. "What a pleasant surprise! Haven't seen you since last summer. Your father said nothing about your coming this summer."
"This is my sister, Joyce," Denny said. "We just flew in last night. Give her an orange, too."
"Delighted to meet you, dear," she said. She fixed the drinks quickly, then set them on the counter.
Denny sipped for a moment, then fiddled with his straw. "Where's Mister Sherman?" he asked.
Mrs. Sherman's face grew serious. "He passed away, Denny," she said. "Six months ago." She looked away for a moment, hiding the tears in her eyes. "He had a heart attack right over there-by the cosmetic counter," she said, her eyes distant, as if she were remembering, vividly visualizing the death of her husband.
Stunned, Denny sighed. "I–I'm awfully sorry… I didn't know. I–I really liked him a lot."
Denny didn't know what else to say. Kaleidoscopically, his mind flashed back to last summer. He recalled sitting in this same drug store with Rex and Ray, inhaling the combined fragrance of candy, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics. No drugstore had ever smelled quite like Sherman's. But now the place smelled different somehow, as though old man Sherman had taken some of that special smell with him. It was an awful thought, and Denny remembered reading comic books at the counter, turning the pages endlessly until Mr. Sherman (who looked much like his own father, except he was older and wore a beard) began frowning and clearing his throat and wiping the counter vigorously. Then he would stare at the boys' empty glasses as if wondering why they didn't order more drinks. Denny almost cried. Mr. Sherman was gone now-struck down by a heart attack in his fragrant corner drugstore-and Denny knew the place would never smell or be the same again. Denny did not know what to say to widows. He wanted to say that Mr. Sherman had been a good man who talked to boys as if they weren't just boys, but adults. But he did not know how to say it.
"I liked Mr. Sherman a lot," he managed, finally. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sherman."
The old woman forced a smile-a good one. "And he liked you boys, too," she said cheerfully. "Well, just where are you youngsters bound for today?"
"I'm gonna introduce sis to Rex's sister, Sue," he said. "Yeah, I'm showing my sister around today. We thought we might stop by Rex's or Ray's place."
"Well, I might be able to help you," Mrs. Sherman said. "By coincidence, they were here about twenty minutes ago. You'll probably find them at the pond. That's where they said they were going."
Denny paid for the drinks, stood up and thanked the old lady. "Thanks," he said, "and I hope you do just fine here at the store without-"
"Yes, just fine," she interrupted. "I've hired Louis here to help me out. You musn't feel sorry for me."
The man she called Louis was staring at them weirdly from across the store. His shoulders were hunched and his dark eyes narrow. Spooky looking, Denny thought. His stare gave Joyce the creeps, too, Denny noticed. They said goodbye to Mrs. Sherman and departed for Landon Pond.
From Walden Flats to Landon Pond, the road was downhill most of the way. But Denny pumped his bike hard anyway, eager to see Rex and Ray and Sue again. Joyce coasted, lagging behind.
"Hey, come on!" Denny screamed over his shoulder. "Pump harder! Dig that hot little cunt of yours into the bike seat and let's make some time."
"Shut that filthy mouth of yours," Joyce shrieked back.
A big pine tree with a rope attached lay just ahead, beyond a flimsy wooden bridge. Denny and his friends had played there just last summer. Denny feasted his eyes on the smooth surface of the pond. Excited, he spotted three bicycles-two boys' bikes and one girl's. Panting, he laid his bike on the hard ground and, in a moment, Joyce pedaled up and laid her bike down, too. "Are they here?" she asked, excited, too.
"Yeah, it's them," Denny said. "Maybe they're skinny-dipping. Come on, let's sneak up on 'em."
Giggling, Joyce followed as he led the way through thick foliage until they reached the edge of the pond. Denny was careful to point out the red and green poison oak leaves as they made their way, telling his sister it would make her pussy swell up if she touched the poisonous plants. Finally, they heard voices and knelt and peered through the trees and bushes at the bank of the huge pond that was nearly a lake.
Three bare-assed youths-Ray, Rex and Sue-frolicked in the shallow water by the bank. Denny had never seen Sue naked before. She and Rex stood on the bank watching then as Ray swung out over the water on a long rope, his huge pecker slapping against his stomach. Then, Tarzan-like, he yelled and dived into the water.
Denny and Joyce lay on their stomachs, peering at the activity below like two Indians getting ready for an ambush. "That looks like fun," Joyce said.
Impulsively, Denny rolled over onto his back and took his prick out. Laughing quietly, he played with himself, making his organ hard almost immediately. "Is my prick as big as Ray's?" he asked.
"I–I guess so," Joyce said, glancing back and forth between the two penises. Joyce was always embarrassed about sexual things when she was in public. But she was wetting her lips strangely as she stared at Rex's rod. Fascinated, she said: "He isn't circumcised, is he?"
"Huh-uh," Denny said. "But Ray is, right? Look! My prick's bigger than his, huh?"
Frowning, Joyce studied the hunk of meat hanging from Rex's auburn patch of pubic hair. Both Rex and his sister, Sue, had reddish-brown hair. It was a darker shade at their crotches though.