“Yeah, most of the time,” said Ben.
“We should get takeout sometime soon — what delivers around here?” asked Stephen.
“I’m not sure if anyone does — I doubt they would,” replied Jack.
“Wow, all this and no delivery?” chucked Stephen.
Jack looked at Ben, who looked up at the sky. Stephen looked back and forth between the two.
“Hey, let’s kick the ball a while,” said Stephen after a pause.
Stephen dug into his backpack and pulled out a clean soccer ball. He dribbled it around the tent and then passed it to Ben.
“Go deep!” Stephen called to Ben.
Ben took the ball to the other side of the yard and passed it back to Stephen. Jack had backed up against the edge of the woods, but Stephen passed the ball back to Ben. When Ben got the ball back, he passed it on to Jack.
Jack fired the ball back to Stephen who stopped it easily. This time Stephen kicked the ball back to Jack, but sent it past him into the woods. Jack carefully retrieved the ball and passed it on to Ben. Over the next few minutes Jack and Ben exchanged the ball easily, but Stephen consistently forced Jack to chase the ball into the woods.
“it’s nice and quiet out here — you should count yourself lucky,” said Stephen to Jack.
“Yeah,” replied Jack.
Ben reversed the direction of the ball, and Jack found himself kicking to Stephen. Jack resisted the urge to send the ball past him, and instead kicked a controlled shot directly to him. After a while the boys got tired of passing the ball and returned to the tent. Stephen directed the conversation.
“Do you guys have independent-studies classes?” Stephen asked Ben. Stephen and Ben talked about their classes and Jack could barely track the conversation. Their school-life was fundamentally different than Jack’s.
Like most of Jack’s neighbors, Ben attended private school. The free-form curriculum of the private school catered to its diverse and creative students. Jack’s parents had offered to send him to private school, but Jack felt like his father respected the public school education more. The same way his dad avoided anything elitist. Still, he missed going to school with Ben. He missed not being his best friend all the time, like they were back in third grade.
“Where do you go next year?” Stephen asked Jack. Jack was startled to be included in the conversation and he had to take a second to process the question.
“Oh…. Um, Pembroke high,” said Jack.
“You sure?” asked Stephen. “Doesn’t seem to have made much of an impression.”
“Ha ha,” said Jack.
“Easy, son — just a joke,” said Stephen.
Stephen turned back to Ben and they discussed drama club for a while. They had acting in common, too. Stephen appeared in some commercials, and Ben had acted in several school plays. Jack busied himself inside the tent, moving the sleeping bags around to accommodate another person.
The three boys prepared dinner, ate, and then turned in. It seemed to Jack that he and Ben hadn’t said one word the entire time. Stephen tended to fill every gap with stories about his amazing life. Occasionally, he would engage Ben in some conversation about one of their mutual acquaintances, but even then Ben barely spoke. The next morning was more of the same.
Ben and Jack typically woke up soon after dawn and listened to the sounds of the nearby woods. Stephen slept a little longer, but as soon as he awoke he started talking.
“Damn it’s cold up here — what are you guys, eskimos?” asked Stephen. Ben chuckled and Jack was silent. He suspected Stephen only lived a couple hundred miles south and doubted the climate was that much different.
“What’s the big plan? You guys get over to the beach much?” asked Stephen.
“Nah, too far,” said Ben.
“What? It’s like forty-five minutes, tops,” said Stephen.
“We don’t have a ride,” said Jack.
“Never heard of a bus, or a cab?” asked Stephen. “I go everywhere by cab these days. So convenient. I gotta hit the head. Be right back.”
When Stephen had crawled out of the tent and been gone for a minute Jack looked at Ben. Ben didn’t meet Jack’s gaze, but said “It’ll be fine,” and slid out of his sleeping bag to go outside.
That morning Jack and Ben fielded dozens of suggestions from Stephen. Everything he brought up required both transportation and money that the boys didn’t have. He seemed to be gearing his comments to point out the deficiencies in their life. Jack was starting to get fed up.
“What are we doing for fireworks?” asked Stephen. “Tomorrow is the fourth and all.”
“They’ve got a thing at the grade school,” replied Jack. “My dad said he'd take us over.”
“That sounds like a million laughs — you ever see the fireworks in Boston?” asked Stephen. “They’re spectacular.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty small here,” said Ben.
“What about bikes? You got bikes?” asked Stephen.
“I saw a couple in the garage,” said Ben.
“Two,” replied Jack. “There’re two bikes in there and one of them is my dad’s. Plus, I’m not exactly able to ride a bike right now,” Jack motioned with his injured arm.
“Well Ben can ride yours and I’ll ride your dad’s,” said Stephen. “I’m taller than I look… Long legs.”
“What am I supposed to do?” asked Jack.
“How should I know — I’m not your cruise director,” said Stephen. “Jeez, can’t you be alone for a while?”
“Hey man, if it’s not something we can all do, then we’re not going to do it,” said Ben.
“Relax friend,” said Stephen, “that’s what I’m saying.”
“No you weren’t!” Jack burst out. “You just said I should stay here alone!”
“That’s not what I meant,” countered Stephen. “You are tightly wound, son.”
“Fuck this,” said Jack. He turned away and stalked to his house. Jack went inside without looking back.
“Wow, what do you suppose that was about?” asked Stephen.
Inside, Jack went right to the kitchen where a calendar was posted on their cork-board. Friday, July sixth was circled and his mom’s handwriting announced “J — Dr.” Jack was instantly relieved; he hadn’t realized his freedom from the sling was so close. Bolstered with this new knowledge, Jack was able compose himself and go back outside.
When Jack came back to the campsite, Stephen and Ben were nowhere to be found. Jack looked in the tent and took mental inventory of their gear. Nothing seemed to be missing, it was unlikely they had gone far. Unwilling to seem needy, Jack grabbed his knife and a branch. He squeezed with his knees to hold it. He proceeded to carve the branch into a spear. After a few seconds, Jack was interrupted by a distant voice.
“Help!” It sounded like Ben, but it wasn’t an alarmed call — it was almost matter-of-fact.
“Ben?” shouted Jack.
“Help,” he heard. Jack started off in the direction of the voice. When he crossed from the yard into the trees, a figure burst out from behind a large maple. Jack spun and defended with his right hand. Until he saw it reflect the leaf-dappled sun, he had forgotten that he still held the knife.
“Holy shit! Watch it!” yelled Stephen. Ben appeared directly behind Jack an circled around him at arm’s length.
“Jesus, he’s trying to stab someone,” accused Stephen.
“I’m so sorry, I forgot I had the knife out,” stammered Jack.
“Sorry, my ass. You’re a psycho,” replied Stephen.
“It was just an accident, could have happened to anyone,” said Ben. “Serves us right for tricking you, Jack — sorry.”
“That’s okay, no problem. I really didn’t mean it,” replied Jack.