Free Kiss of the Wolf by Jim Shepard

stuff.
    â€œIn the car?” his mother said. Did Brendan have to see it now? She started to get up.
    But Brendan was already in the garage. He went right to the backseat and opened the door and pulled out the lacrosse helmet. On the floor next to it, he found the Viking helmet.
    Todd kept trying to lead him out of the garage. Brendan kept pulling free and going, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the Viking helmet. He put the lacrosse helmet on the hood and tried to pull the Viking helmet onto his head. Todd could see the dent on the bumper right below the lacrosse helmet.
    His mother put her hand on his shoulder. She asked if they didn’t want to get out into the sun instead of hanging around the damp, smelly garage. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.
    â€œLet’s get out and look at it in the sun,” he said.
    Brendan was having trouble getting the helmet over his ears, even though it was a large and it was the real thing. He sat up on the hood of the car and held the helmet in front of him by the earholes.
    Todd squeezed around to the front and stood by the dented bumper. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. His mother headed back outside.
    â€œTodd, are you coming out?” she asked.
    He reached for Brendan, who pulled his arm away. “Let’s sit in the grass,” Todd said.
    â€œIn a minute ,” Brendan said. The helmet was halfway on and was squeezing his head like a grape.
    â€œTodd,” Joanie said.
    â€œ Ma —” Todd said. She left the doorway.
    â€œSo can you give me a ride Wednesday night?” Brendan wanted to know. He pulled the helmet all the way on and snapped the chin strap. It made his face skinny. He looked around, enjoying the view through the facemask.
    â€œA ride to what?” Todd asked, distracted.
    â€œ Ad Altare Dei, ” Brendan said. He was playing with his wristbands. He and Todd always wore wristbands. They thought it was cool. Todd wasn’t wearing his. “What’s wrong with you?”
    â€œOh, God,” Joanie said, outside the garage. She was out of sight around the corner.
    Ad Altare Dei was the religious medal Todd had signed up to go for. All the old altar boys had. You were eligible right after confirmation. It meant “to the altar of God.” It was like six weeks of classroom work at night about the Scriptures and catechism, and then interviews with your priest and the bishop, and if you passed you got a medal. They gave it out at a ceremony in front of the whole diocese.
    â€œWhat’d you, forget?” Brendan said. “Wednesday night’s the first night.” He was whapping himself on the side of the helmet with his open palm.
    â€œYou look sick,” Brendan said. “You gonna yack?”
    â€œI gotta get outside,” Todd said. “You can stay in here.”
    He left the garage and sat in the grass. The grass was warm, but the damp came through his pants immediately. He imagined Brendan in there alone, in his Minnesota Viking helmet, noticing something, looking closer at the front bumper.
    Nina’s car cruised up the driveway, popping gravel on the blacktop. Audrey stood up in the garden and trotted over, barking.
    Todd’s mother put her hand to the back of her neck. “Just what I need right now,” she said.
    Brendan came out of the garage.
    Nina rolled her window down. She drove with the windows up, even if it was 104 out. She worried about getting colds in places like her ears.
    â€œJ’ou hear what happened?” she called to Joanie. She was leaning her head out the window and squinting. Audrey came over to the car and put her front paws up on the door, licking the air near Nina’s face.
    Todd’s mother returned her hand to her side. Her eyes reacted.
    â€œNo, what happened?” she said. She turned back to the garden, like she expected to hear Nina say they called off the sale at Stop and Shop.
    Nina said it was terrible.