Free Sons of the 613 by Michael Rubens

pot or something.
    â€œJosh, can we go now?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œI have to pee.”
    â€œSo go pee.”
    I twist around, looking for the bathroom, then spot it. Someone pulls the door open, and I briefly get a clear view inside, where a guy is standing at a urinal, peeing. I decide holding it is a better choice.
    I look at Josh again. He’s checking his watch.
    â€œWhy are we here?” I ask.
    â€œPart of the Quest. So you know what it’s like. So you know how to behave in a place like this.”
    Right. Of course. Just the skill I need for my bar mitzvah.
    Josh is examining me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œClothes,” he says, like he’s added something to a list.
    â€œWhat? What about them?”
    He’s not looking at me or listening—back to scanning the crowd.
    â€œIs this a dive bar?”
    He chuckles. “A dive bar? Clearly you’ve never been to a real dive bar.”
    â€œUm, I’ve never been to
any
bar. I’m
thirteen.
”
    â€œStop looking around like everyone is going to murder you. These are not meth dealers. They’re all normal people. They go to school or have jobs.”
    â€œLike the guy who bit your ear off.”
    â€œHmm.” He thinks about it for a moment. “No, I think he’s a meth dealer.”
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œLook, relax. Act like you belong here. You act confident, like everything is cool, like you’re supposed to be here, and no one will bother you. Remember that. That’s a good general rule.”
    You hear that, everyone? When you’re thirteen and you’re in a bar and it’s near midnight and there’s drug dealers with Mohawks who bite people’s ears off, just act like you’re supposed to be there, and everything will be fine.
    â€œJosh, I’m not sure that—” I begin, but he’s walking off abruptly, heading back toward the bar. I can see him as he steps up to it and addresses the bartender.
    A she. An attractive she, wearing a tight tank top, her dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. I didn’t notice her before, and realize she must have just started her shift. And then I realize that she’s why we’re really here.
    They’re talking. They know each other. They more than know each other. He’s holding her hand across the bar, and she’s laughing, shaking her head. Even from where I am I can see her say
no,
and then
no
a few more times, still laughing, and then
no
again, growing more serious. Josh says something. I can see her saying
Josh
. . .
    She breaks off and takes someone’s drink order. She’s still talking with Josh as she pours a drink and gets someone a beer, shaking her head and frowning as Josh says something back to her. Another guy tries to get her attention, and Josh holds out his hand to him without looking at him, gesturing for him to wait. The guy says something back to Josh, and now Josh turns, and I’m getting nervous again. Josh says something. The other guy takes a step back, holding up his hands, mollifying Josh. Josh is still trying to talk to the bartender. She’s trying not to talk to him. The guy Josh threatened is rolling his eyes, sharing a laugh with his friends, like,
Can you believe this guy?
I don’t blame him.
    Josh,
I can see the bartender say, pointing at him, and then she launches into what looks to be a lecture, cutting him off with an open hand or a finger in the air each time he tries to interrupt her. Then she finishes and turns from him to a customer, all smiles again, and it’s like she’s slammed a door in Josh’s face. The conversation is over.
    Josh spins away from the bar and stalks toward the exit and disappears through the doors. It takes me a second to realize that he’s leaving for real and he’s leaving me behind. I start toward the door, and suddenly the room seems crowded again, people blocking my path and slowing me down, and I