The Boy from the Forge

By Matt Brandt

Max spent the first sixteen years of his life growing up faster than he should have, but with his best friend Del by his side, even the biggest hardships are manageable. Max and Del do everything together. They buy the same bikes, wear the same clothes and share all their dreams, secrets, and fears. They also fall for the same girl, and when she

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chloris Books
• Release date: Jul 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999264416

Matt Brandt

Matt Brandt is an American author providing an unflinching and realistic look at coming-of-age on the working class landscape of America. His personal experiences growing up as the youngest of six in a challenging home in Milwaukee, WI provide the inspirations for his work as a writer. Brandt holds a Masters Degree in telecommunications from The University of Colorado, Boulder, and he currently lives in Gilroy, CA with his family.

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The Boy from the Forge, by Matt Brandt

Chloris Books

225 Crossroads Blvd. #307

Carmel, CA 93923

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Matthew Brandt

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Chloris Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 225 Crossroads Blvd, #307, Carmel, CA 93923.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Chloris Books at [e-mail].

For more information or to contact the author send an email to [e-mail] or visit our website at www.chlorisbooks.com.

Cover art by David Sims

Author portrait by Kyle Evans

Design by Vinnie Kinsella

Manufactured in the United States of America

ISBN 978-0-9992644-1-6

The reason a writer writes a book is to forget a book, and the reason a reader reads one is to remember it.

—Thomas Wolfe

For Cheryl and Mike

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Epigraph

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 1

We’re going to a junior’s party? Max said into the cold night air on Friday, pedaling close behind Del’s bike as it wound through the neighborhoods of New Athens.

Yeah. Annika and Leti are going to be there, Del called back. "It’s the cast party for Streetcar Named Desire. Don’t worry, even a couple of freshmen are going."

The two stood up, pumping on their pedals to ascend a hill, bare knuckles tight on their bikes’ handlebars, shoulder to shoulder, their front wheels alternating the lead position. Annika and Blake broke up. She and I have been hanging out.

Hanging out, since when? Max said between breaths.

I mean at school. You know her?

I know who she is, but I never met her.

"She played Stella in Streetcar."

That’s her?

She’s hot, isn’t she?

What’s she like?

That’s what I’m hoping to find out firsthand, if you know what I mean.

The New Athens River careened alongside them, its tree-lined banks and solid-green cattails weaving across the shallow soggy marshes. Spring brought back with it glossy green-headed mallards and black ducks. Soon, the frogs and fireflies would join the ducks in their parkway home. Max inhaled the damp air as it whipped by his face. He wondered if this night was going to be one of those nights that ended with him and Del out of breath, hearts pounding, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt. They pedaled on farther across an arched stone bridge, its abutments, walls, and buttresses built with hand tool precision, crowned with a signature chiseled keystone. Below in the shadow of the trees, above the gurgling water, a feathered wildcat owl listened and watched the riverbank from its perch in the solitary elm among the maple, ash, and the willows.

New Athens was settled by wheat farmers and orchard growers. With an exodus of European immigrants in the mid- and late-1800s, the nearby city of Milltown, with its bustling harbor on Lake Michigan, became a Midwestern industrial powerhouse. New Athens became a bedroom community for Milltown’s workers.

Del moved to New Athens when the two started sixth grade. Sitting in science class, Max had overheard a new voice with a rural Southern accent entertaining some kids in the row behind him. Max turned around to see Del on the edge of his chair, his left elbow on his leg, his right hand resting on the other knee. He smiled with confidence as he delivered the punch line of his joke, and the kids sitting around him laughed, slapping their legs. As Max watched Del, saw the others listening and laughing together, Del looked over at Max. They acknowledged the other with a short nod of the head. With this simple gesture, a wordless introduction between twelve-year-olds, the two became friends. Since that day, Del and Max did everything together, bought the same bikes, wore the same clothes, and competed with one another as best friends often do—helping each get better as they did.

While most kids waited for their hormones to get them into the game, Del was already telling stories about women and men and what they did in private. He didn’t have any actual experience with girls, and he wasn’t trying to convince anyone he did back then, but Del told plenty of adult-rated stories to satisfy the sixth-grade boys all trying to figure out the physical puzzle of how two bodies fit together. It seemed like he spoke a strange new language.

Del rode up on the sidewalk, cut a sharp left, and fishtailed his rear wheel over the gravel-covered alley leading to his house. Lewis doesn’t know we are going to Sandy’s house, so if we see him, don’t let him know where we’re going. He thinks we’re gonna be at the Rec Center.

Is there going to be beer there? Max asked, following Del’s spinning rear wheel as they sped down the alley.

Yeah, give your money to Sandy. I’ll give her two more bucks and we should be good.

Max thought about what his father, Eddy, had said earlier in the night. That money just burns a hole right through your pocket, doesn’t it? You two ever think of saving any of it? Over two dollars! "Well, tonight we need it, Mr. K," Del had responded. He negotiated arguments with grown-ups better than they could with one another.

Del turned into his driveway from the alley. Let’s ditch our bikes next to the garage and walk to Sandy’s. Lay it down on the grass, so it doesn’t make any noise, and let’s get outta here. I don’t wanna talk to Lewis. As they left again on foot, turning the corner with Del’s house out of sight, they exhaled with relief.

Del’s father, Lewis, had been a child during the toughest years of the Great Depression, as had been Eddy. Both men started work young, and from there, their intense disciplinary attitudes grew, which later would shape the inner framework of Del and Max. Using what they had learned, right or wrong from their own parents, both men raised their families with an iron fist, bent on doing what it takes to survive tough times, prepared to soldier through any economic hardship dished out to them and working people. They lessoned their children on the risk of losing everything, if they didn’t work hard. They would say danger was waiting for them right around the corner, if they weren’t careful. Lewis and Eddy had been schooled, with the help of their father’s leather belt, of the sacrifice their ancestors had made to leave their home country, how as immigrants they had risked everything, so the future generations might have a better quality of life. In that familial tradition, Lewis and Eddy hammered the same messages, the same patterns into Del and Max as their minds and bodies grew. This internal shared fabric, forged and shaped by the hands and words of Lewis and Eddy, bonded Del and Max together deep in their core. Best friends become allies, partners in solidarity, to these learned patterns of behavior, to these methods of raising children, passed down the generations. It never occurred to Lewis and Eddy to try and explain how much they loved their children any other way.

Del led Max on a shortcut through the backyards. Once we get our licenses, we gotta get a car. We should start checking the classifieds for junkers, Del said. They were finishing driver’s education that semester.

My brother Johnny found this fixer-upper in the paper one time. The thing didn’t even need that much work. I couldn’t believe he got it for only three hundred dollars! Max said, zipping his jacket and making sure the dollar bills were still in the pocket. Del’s eyes lit up.

Three hundred? I can do three hundred, no problem. It’s gonna be sweet. We can go wherever we wanna go. Man, we should go camping out at Governor Dodge this summer. Just you and me. We hang out on the beach. Check out the ladies. Maybe we meet a couple of ’em. They meet us at our campsite at night. You know what I’m saying? Del said. Both ran the fantasy through their minds.

Definitely, Max said. We bring a bunch of blankets. We get a nice fire going. Jesus, that would be cool.

Man, we gotta get a car soon.

Can you imagine? Max said.

Their minds exploded as they ran the different, albeit untested, fooling-around-with-a-girl scenarios through their heads, starting with the basic stuff, and then working their way around the bases. They continued down the street to Sandy’s house, not talking, obsessed with the possibilities of what could happen on such a camping trip.

That night above New Athens, as Del and Max walked to the party, the Big Dipper hung aloft, pointing a bright shimmering path to the North Star. Clean, flat puddles of water covered the ground. The smell of wet grass having been cut for the first time filled their noses. The two friends walked together down the middle of the street. Their minds stretched out, filled the larger space of their near adult-size bodies. Music could be heard coming from Sandy’s backyard. Max sniffed.

Are you wearing cologne or something?

It’s musk, baby, Del said. He grinned.

Man, that stuff’s strong, Max said, waving his hand in front of his nose.

They followed the voices coming from around back. There they are, over there, Del said. He pointed his finger with a bend of his elbow. They wound themselves through the groups of students gathered in the backyard.

Max noticed Annika right away. She stood out from the group with a radiant and natural posture. She held her shoulders straight while she talked to Leti next to a giant magnolia tree, its pink and white blossoms clinging to its branches. Her body wasn’t quite yet a woman’s body, but it was close enough. Max remembered how she led the audience not only with the lines of the script, but with physical presence and nuance as Stella.

So, this must be Max, Leti said, holding out her open hands, as Del and Max walked up to Annika and Leti.

Didn’t you go out with Shanna Oakes one time? Annika said.

That was when we came up with the direct approach method. How’d you know that, anyway? Max said, looking at Annika. He noticed how Annika stood up straight, but she didn’t look uncomfortable.

The direct approach method? Annika said with a steady turn of the wrist, cigarette in hand.

Take the bull by the horns, baby, Del interjected, grabbing the imaginary horns with both hands, grinning.

It’s about saying what’s on your mind. It’s about taking action instead of waiting for something to happen, Max said.

What do you mean? Leti said.

Back in junior high, at the Rec Center one time, we were talking about how we knew everyone there wanted to make out with somebody, but nobody had the guts to do anything about it. What if people said what they were thinking? Max said.

I don’t know, Leti said, scrunching up her nose.

Well, they dared me to try it on Shanna, because I liked her.

He did it, all right, Del said, on his way to the keg.

What happened? Annika said.

As it turned out, it’s the only time I ever used the direct approach, and it worked. I walked right up to Shanna, told her I liked her, and asked if she wanted to make out behind the trees after dark.

What’d she say? Leti said.

What do you think? Max said, lifting an open hand.

I would have done the same thing, Annika said.

So, what, Leti said, we’re supposed to say out loud everything to everybody, good and bad?

Obviously there are exceptions, Max said, but, if someone is your friend, then you should be able to talk about anything.

I think it’s only human nature after you get knocked down a couple of times you’re going to protect yourself. You’ve got to learn to take your lumps, but you can’t live under a shell, either, Annika said. She spoke with authority.

Some people are not nice. You can’t trust everyone you meet, Leti said.

You can trust me, baby, Del said, handing Max a cup of foamy beer and sipping his own. He winked at Leti.

Guys, check it out, announced a senior coming out of the house. Louis and Gina are fooling around in a fricking closet!

Why would they go in a closet? Leti said.

Sandy said no one can use the bedrooms, Annika said.

Hey, Gina! Have you seen my shoehorn! Del yelled toward the house. A group of sophomores, and a couple of juniors standing on the back porch laughed.

I guess anyplace in a house is better than outside, if you don’t have a car, Annika said.

Definitely. The ground is still soaked everywhere, Max said.

But don’t you think there are lots of shoes in there? Leti said. Annika smiled at Leti.

You want me to see if we can get a reservation in the laundry room later? Del said. He looked at Annika.

Yeah, right. Very funny. She rolled her eyes.

Jared Jameson walked up, looking straight at Annika, ignoring everybody else in the group.

"Great performance on Streetcar, Annika. You nailed Stella’s character."

Thanks, Jared.

Hi, Jared, Leti said.

Hi, Leti, Jared said. He gave a quick nod at Del and Max.

Annika, you want a beer? Jared asked, pointing toward the house.

I have one, she answered, holding up her cup.

Sorry to hear about you and Blake breaking up, Annika, Jared said. You need a ride home later? Max watched Del watching Jared.

No thanks, Leti and I drove.

Wait awhile … take it easy … have an Old Forty-Eight, Del interjected, drawling out the words, singing them like an advertising slogan, lifting his hands, pointing his cup of Old Forty-Eight beer skyward.

Yeah … wait awhile … have an Old Forty-Eight, Leti repeated, with the same slow delivery, imitating Del.

As a matter of fact, I think I will, Del said. He took a drink from his cup, and the group laughed a little. They repeated the phrase. Wait awhile … take it easy … have an Old Forty-Eight. They laughed again. Jared feigned a smiled, nodded goodbye, and walked away.

You should join the theater group, Leti said to Max.

I’m not much into acting.

I’m not, either. I mean the production crew. It’s a lot of fun, Leti said.

You should, man, Del said, pointing his beer at Max.

When the party wound down, the four made their way through the house. Hundreds of muddy footprints ran back and forth over the carpet. Plastic cups covered the countertops; a few rolled around on the floor. A couple twisted back and forth into the corner of the hallway as they kissed.

They made their way out the front door on the way to Leti’s car. In the front yard, Tommy Keefer sat on the ground, his back against the wide base of a tree, swishing and swaying left and right, mumbling an incomprehensible monologue to himself.

Mop the deck, matey! Mop the fricking deck! Tommy yelled, swinging his cup in his hand, the beer splashing out.

Max stopped for a moment, saying, Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?

Tommy swung his head upward, his eyes glassy, trying to focus on Max.

Schkinny! Schkinny! Tommy yelled. The four looked at one another and smiled.

Mop the deck! Tommy wailed as they continued on toward Leti’s car.

section break

Conversation flowed easily on the drive to Del’s house, where Leti dropped off Del and Max with the four agreeing to hang out again soon. Later, in Del’s bedroom, Del reclined in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Max switched off the light and stretched out on a sleeping bag on the floor.

Did you see Annika tonight—is she a babe or what? Del said. Can you imagine?

I can imagine, Max said, nodding.

Did you see Jared Jameson trying to make a move on Annika? What a joke, Del said.

Jared Jameson! Max said, over-pronouncing both Js in Jared’s name.

I can tell she doesn’t like Jared. I would know if she liked someone, Del said.

He definitely likes her. We should stay at your house more often. I like sleeping here. It’s better, Max said.

Are you kidding me? You’re the one who’s got it made. Your parents are never around. They don’t care what you do. You get to do whatever you want! We should stay at your house. You never get grounded or anything!

I guess.

Hey, you should join the production crew. We could all go out after rehearsals and stuff. Annika and Leti are already talking about college. Weird. This is it for them. Next time this year, they’ll be graduating and we’ll be seniors, Del said.

It’s weird, all right. I have no idea what I’m going to do, and I sure don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for college.

Here is what we’re not gonna do, Del said, his voice more serious, we are not going to fuck up and become losers. It’s bad habits that kill people. We can’t pick up any bad habits. If one of us starts doing something the other knows is not a good idea, we have to tell the other before it is too late.

We should only drink when we’re together, Max said.

You’re right. If one of us gets wasted, the other has to make sure the other gets sobered up.

What if we like it too much? Max said.

What do you mean?

I mean some people have no problem drinking. Then some people are different when they drink, you know. We can’t do that. Be different, I mean.

It’s cool. Beer wears off fast. Now, hard booze is different. It will mess you up.

What about pot? Max said.

It’s gotta be you and me. We gotta know what it does to us. We can’t start smoking around other people. They’ll think we’re zoners, too. No matter what, we can’t get busted smoking. That’ll be ten times worse.

You mean no wearing our jackets in class each day like Keef the Spleef?

Spleef! What a piece of work, Del said.

Mop the deck! Max said.

Keef the Spleef! They laughed.

No matter what happens, we can’t change. We have to remember what it is like right now. How we think about things, I mean, Max said.

We won’t. Good night, little buddy. Silence filled the room and Del dropped off asleep.

Max lay there awake on the floor with Del up on his bed a few feet away in the dark. Most of the time he felt equal with Del, but sometimes he didn’t. Del could sit down in front of the hardest homework, put his pen to the paper, and somehow he’d get it done without any trouble at all.

Around that time in his life, Max often imagined himself sitting on the middle of a teeter-totter. He saw positive things on one side and negative things on the other. Too many mistakes, Max thought, like not working hard enough in school or making bad decisions, like shoplifting, and the negative side of the teeter-totter starts to drop down and the positive things fly up and out of his reach. He sensed that for every one negative thing added to one side, it would take one or even two positive things added to the other side to balance it back out again. If he really messed up, he would fall off altogether. It didn’t seem fair. Max knew, he knew deep down inside, he had what it took to make something of his life. Yet, he felt surrounded by invisible obstacles, strange obstacles, which he kept bumping into all the time. Problems seemed to pop up everywhere he went. Some kind of invisible weight was slowing him down. He often imagined himself dragging an anchor but not knowing why he did. All these mysterious things kept getting in Max’s way, kept him from moving forward.

Max knew Del would make it into college and get a good job someday, and he thought if he stayed close enough to Del, watched Del, did what he did, he might make it, too, at least make it far enough to figure out life on his own someday. The thought provided Max some relief, some hope, and he faded off to sleep.

Chapter 2

Thud, thud, thud…

Sunday morning, before sunrise, Max’s eyes opened to the sound of wire-wrapped bales of newspapers for his paper route hitting the driveway, under his window. As his mind stirred to consciousness, Max could hear the rumble of the diesel motor of the Milltown Journal delivery truck as it grumbled on idle, waiting on its driver to return to the cab. Max heard the sliding rear door of the truck slam shut, the driver jump back into the cab, his door bang shut, and the transmission gears grind together in agony as he jammed the tall stick of the gearshift forward. The worn-out box truck stormed out of the driveway, lilting to one side on its weakened spring suspension, overloaded daily from bottom to top with newspapers, as it made the corner. It disappeared into the dark street on the way to the driver’s next stop, and eventually the neighborhood returned to silence. Those who woke up from the short ruckus rolled over and fell back to sleep without any trouble.

But Max needed to stay awake. Hey, wake up. They’re here, Max whispered to Del, still sleeping on the extra twin-size bed on Max’s bedroom floor.

After getting dressed, they walked straight down to the garage without stopping in the kitchen for breakfast, to avoid waking Eddy. Max hoisted the heavy wooden garage door. The stiff cold metal wheels squealed as the door slid in its tracks.

The single bare light bulb hanging over the workbench spilled out the open garage door into the pre-dawn morning. Together, Max and Del hauled the bales into the garage and snipped the bound packages apart with pliers, their quiet work the only noise on this side of New Athens. They stacked the sections of the paper in piles, into an assembly line, on top of an old door lying atop a pair of workhorses. A few lone, drab clouds loitered about in the moonless sky overhead.

Del and Max slipped the two sections of the two-inch-thick, wet-with-ink Sunday edition newspaper together. They loaded the fat papers into the front and rear wire baskets of both of their delivery bikes and headed out into the early morning. After finishing Max’s route, they would ride across town to complete Del’s route.

On Sunday mornings, unlike the smaller weekday deliveries, the weight of the newspapers made it tough to start up the bicycle, especially during the first half of the route. The heavy load made the bicycle unstable at any speed. The baskets swayed on the support brackets with tense stress. If a carrier lost balance, even for one second, the overloaded bike would plunge over, without mercy, scattering the newspapers across the street.

Del and Max pumped their feet down on the cranks of their bikes, using all their body weight, feeling the resistance of their heavily laden work bikes.

Check it out, it’s Frego, Max whispered to Del, motioning with an uptick of his head in the dark in Frego’s direction as Max shoved a paper into the box of Frego’s neighbor.

Good morning, sir! Del called out with bold confidence as they closed in on Mr. Frego with his arms crossed over his chest, standing at the end of his driveway.

It’s about time, Mr. Frego grumbled.

How are you this fine morning, Mr. Frego? The early bird gets the worm, you know, Del said. He grinned.

Frego stood pig-faced looking at the two boys, across the invisible trough at the end of his driveway. He let out an incomprehensible grunt, tucked the paper under his arm, and, in a short swine-like shuffle, made his way back to his front door, the only house on the block with the kitchen lights already on. Max and Del looked at each other, pleased with themselves, and pushed forward on their bikes down the street.

Departing Frego’s driveway, having watched Del handle Frego the way he did, Max thought to himself, It’s like he has no fear. Del could say just about anything to anybody. During moments like this, Max saw Del as larger than life. He imagined Del standing with one leg up on the bow of a ship, the same way Washington crossed the Delaware, confident, pointing ahead with certainty toward the other shore. Max wanted to experience that bold, expansive spirit, too. He wanted to take charge the way Del would, especially with adults. Navigating conversations came natural to Del. He had come into the world that way. He didn’t have to learn by watching others the way Max did.

As the two unloaded their baskets and filled the green plastic newspaper boxes at the end of the customers’ driveways, pedaling their bikes took less effort, the risk of losing balance and dumping their cargo diminished, and they rode more relaxed through the neighborhood. As they approached each box, they readied the customer’s paper with one hand using the top of their thigh to fold it, a hot dog wrapped inside a hot-dog bun. They steered with the other hand, slowed enough to be able to slide the paper into the open-ended newspaper box, but without stopping, then cranked the pedals back up again to cruising speed and repeated the process down the length of the street.

Man, I’m glad winter is over. This is so much easier. Did Eddy take you out in the car when it snowed?

Most of the time.

Every fricking time Lewis helped me out, he tells me how his dad never helped him with anything, how easy I got it on Sundays, because he had to get up early every day, whether he wanted to or not.

It ain’t too bad. I load the papers in the back and sit on the back with the hitch window open. Kinda sucks ’cause the exhaust from the muffler loops back in your face. The thing I can’t stand is, after we’re done, we have to go to the first morning mass at St. Mary’s, no matter what. He’d make you go, too.

Praise Jesus! Del said.

Deliver us, O Lord, from the evil of having to sit and listen to the same thing over and over again every fricking week, in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost, Max said. They laughed.

Up ahead, the streetlamp on the corner flickered, reluctant to turn off with the arrival of daylight, as Del and Max approached the gas station.

Come on, let’s go before it gets any lighter, Max said.

The metal baskets on their bikes clanged as they hit the lip of the concrete driveway of the Crossroads filling station. They rolled over to the vending machine standing between the tall service doors. Max leaned his bike, almost empty of its paper cargo, against the wall. Del, seeing the oil-saturated concrete, rode straight toward the tall repair bay door. He hit the brakes hard, swung his rear tire out to one side, and slammed his rear basket with a calculated crashing stop on the door, and dismounted.

You see that? Del said with a proud grin.

Check this out, Max said, pointing at the vending machine. He lifted the flap at the base where the soda cans dropped out and inserted his forearm up into the cold insides of its interior.

Just squeeze the can and yank it down at the same time. He pulled a soda can from the machine and presented it to Del.

Sweet. Lemme try, Del said. He dismounted his bike, lifted the flap door, and reached up into the machine. He maneuvered his arm and hand around. Max looked on as Del struggled to grab the rounded side of a cold sweaty can.

It’s too high up there. It won’t come out. Del stopped tugging, his arm elbow-deep inside the machine.

Only the first can in a row will come out. You probably grabbed the one right above the one I pulled out. Pick another row, it’ll work, trust me. A second later, Del’s face lit up.

Got it! Del shouted, looking at the gleaming can of pop in his hand.

It only works with the machines with the corkscrew rod that holds the cans up. They must have figured it out, because the newer ones are different, Max said. He lifted the can to his mouth and chugged the soda. Del ripped the teardrop top from the can by the metal ring, holding the razor-sharp thin flap of metal around his middle finger, and guzzled half of his can of soda. He looked skyward, lifted his arms, and let out a long, rumbling belch, yelling, Frickin’ Frego! Max laughed, and they both repeated the chant, shaking their fists in the air.

The first light of day illuminated the shadow spaces under the tree canopies. Runoff water funneled through the deep drain ditches on its way to the New Athens River. The moving liquid began to shimmer gold and yellow with the rising sun. The neighborhood grew larger with the brightening sky. The two friends stood there drinking their caffeinated sodas. Max liked early mornings like this one. He looked at Del and then scanned the neighborhood. Max had the idea everything was right where it should be in those few moments in the quiet and calm of dawn. The sun rose steady and strong. A solitary car stood in an intersection in the distance, watching and waiting on the robotic flashing of the yellow, red, and green of the traffic signal.

Frego is unreal, Max said, watching the car move across the intersection. One time he showed up at our house at six o’clock because he didn’t have his precious paper. It wasn’t my problem. The truck was late. I didn’t even have the frickin’ papers yet!

I can’t believe he came to the house, Del said.

I open the door and before I can say anything, Max said, he says, where’s my paper? pronouncing where’s my paper in an idiotic tone.

What a dick, Del said.

Hey, we should check out if there are any other of these older pop machines around town so we know where we can stop when we want one, Del said.

The trick is to get fast at it, Max said. Once your hand is out of the machine, you make it look as if you’re someone who bought a soda with real money. Like it’s natural.

Let’s go, I wanna get my route done so we can take off, Del said. They tossed the cans into the oil drum trash can at the same time. The cans bounced and banged around the bottom of the empty oil barrel. They finished up Max’s route and then headed across town to get Del’s papers. An hour later, the two rolled up to the doughnut shop.

"Two glazed, please. I gotta have two glazed first to cleanse my palate. I’ll ramp up with two