Free Before You Go by James Preller

“Seriously, Kurt Vonnegut was totally righteous. He looked around at all the stupidity in the world and pointed out how dumb everything was—and he was funny as hell doing it too.”
    “Yeah, like what’s so stupid?” Lee asked, as if he didn’t like the sound of this Vonnegut guy.
    “Like ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ for instance.”
    “He thinks it’s stupid? Our national anthem?” Lee was gearing up into argument mode.
    Jude groaned internally. Lee was becoming a problem. Car or no car, he was growing tiresome. Something had to change. Jude couldn’t wait to get his license. Freedom .
    “Admit it, Lee, it’s a lousy-sounding song,” Corey replied. “Vonnegut says it’s gibberish sprinkled with question marks.… ‘Oh, say, can you see…?’”
    “What does he want? The song is about a battle—‘rockets’ red glare’!”
    “‘The bombs bursting in air,’” Jude added.
    “Exactly,” Corey said, rising to the challenge. “What kind of country picks that as their song? I mean, look at us. We didn’t pick it, we’re stuck with it—just like everything else around here.”
    We didn’t start the fire , Jude thought.
    “Maybe we should all vote on our favorite song?” Lee asked.
    “Yeah, that’d be great,” Jude commented. “Make it a popularity contest. The new national anthem would be sung by the latest Disney teen product or, like, Lady Gaga.”
    “Skank,” Vinnie opined.
    “She’s hot,” Lee said. “I’d do her.”
    Jude frowned. “ You’d do her. That’ll be the day. Do you ever wonder if she’d do you?” He made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. Lee danced on his nerves.
    “I don’t know what the hell she’d do,” Lee snapped back, glaring at Jude in the rearview mirror. “Don’t get political on me, Jude. I’m just stating my personal policy on who’d I’d be willing to bang.”
    Vinnie snorted. “Right, and Lee’s got such high standards.”
    “She’s gotta have two legs and a pulse!” Corey exclaimed, finger thrust into the air—and even Lee had to laugh at that.
    “I’m not one of those necrophiliacs,” Lee said. “No corpses, no circus freaks, no carny tang, that’s where I draw the line.”
    “Carny tang? What the hell?” Jude laughed.
    Meanwhile, Vinnie eyed the road. Their car was stuck behind a slow, gray Impala. “Come on, Lee,” he urged. “Pass this old lady.”
    Lee hit the turn signal, announced “Turbo jets on,” and accelerated into the left lane.
    “Slinggg-shot!” Vinnie cried, as the car sped past the chugging Impala.
    Corey returned to the main topic. He couldn’t help himself. He was one of those guys who became like a missionary knocking on doors, spreading the good word about his latest discoveries. It could be a new song or a pretty girl or a phone app or the coming zombie apocalypse. Corey was like a bull rider who couldn’t let go. “It’s what the song’s about , Lee,” Corey persisted. “Or really, what it’s not about. There’s no mention of peace or hope or happiness.…”
    “Oh please, Corey Man, shut the eff up, will you?” Lee said. “The song is about a battle—we fought for our freedom, for Christ’s sakes. And the flag was still there!”
    “Maybe Vonnegut was right,” Jude said.
    “Yeah, he’s right,” Corey agreed. “Counterculture, that’s what I’m all about—whatever’s out there, I’m against it!” Typical Corey. He had the rule-hating gene in his double helix.
    “Yeah, but what are you for ?” Lee asked.
    “You know what I’m for?” Corey said. “I’m for … ‘Oh, say, can you see…’ that McDonald’s up ahead? I’m for pulling into the drive-through. I’m starverated.”
    When they reached their haunted destination at 112 Ocean Avenue in the town of Amityville, Lee killed the lights and coasted curbside. The boys stared out the windows at the old, silent house. It was three stories high with seven windows facing the street, a few tall trees and