Free Open Court by Carol Clippinger Page B

smiles and says, “But, Mom, they're harmless. Practically choirboys, even.”
    The Choirboys burped loudly while verbalizing their desire for some girl named Stacey. “The girl is hot. She is hotter than hot,” Michael said.
    Choirboy 1 said, “I'm not saying she's
not fine.
I'm saying what makes you think she'll date you?”
    “Dream on,” Choirboy 2 said. “She's too hot for you.”
    “No, she's too hot for
you,”
Michael said.
    “You're afraid to talk to her! She doesn't date mutes,” Choirboy 2 said, letting out a belch that could have made it into
The Guinness Book of World Records.
    “I've talked to her plenty,” Michael boasted.
    “Yeah,” said Choirboy 1. “You said, ‘Excuse me.’ Once. That's not a conversation.”
    “Turn it down! I'm telling Mom!” I screamed, my voice barely audible above the music.
    Brad cut the sound and mimicked me. “I'm telling Mom … I'm telling Mom …”
    The Choirboys laughed.
    “Are you OK?” Eve said on the phone. “What's going on?”
    “Nothing.” Explaining my brothers was pointless. She lived in a girlie home where people said things like “Please” and “Thank you.”
    “Everyone's here. Where are you?”
    “On my way.”
    Ms. Jensen met me at the door with her purse over her shoulder and keys in her hand. “Hello, Hall. The girls are on the back porch. I'll be home later to give everyone a ride home. You girls behave while I'm gone,” she said. She obviously wasn't aware that we spent the majority of our waking hours inside her home.
    “Yes,” I assured her, “we will.”
    Melissa was crouched over, painting her toenails. Eve was supine, with a dusty pillow under her head. Only Polly bothered to greet me as I stepped onto the cool porch. She scooted over, making room for me on her lawn chair.
    “Hey,” she said, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, as she often did. I think she liked them long so she could fluff them up and push them out of her way. The repetitive act seemed to comfort the margins of her secretive soul. I simply could not figure the girl out.
    “Anybody up for going to 7-Eleven?” Eve asked.
    “I am,” I said.
    “Sure,” Polly said.
    Melissa looked a little worried. “It's a long way.”
    “Live a little, Melissa,” Eve said. And that was that. We rose simultaneously.
    Eve carted her new water bottle with her, handing it to Melissa as we spilled out onto the asphalt. Sidewalks were for dog walkers; we commanded the street, taking up half of it, walking in a line. Dusk had settled in. The air smelled sweet, clean.
    Melissa clamped her teeth around the water bottle and tipped it.
    “Don't laugh,” I said, hoping to make her laugh.
    Her lips pursed. She almost swallowed, but then shecouldn't. She doubled over, water flowing out of her mouth like a hydrant. Most of it landed on the front of Eve's cotton shorts, leaving a big mark. Eve looked at us, then at her shorts.
    “Ew, gross!” Polly wailed.
    “You know I didn't mean it, Eve,” Melissa said.
    Polly and I exchanged a pitying look. Then we burst out laughing.
    Appalled by her bad luck, Eve danced around the pavement. “I'm gonna pee …
I'm gonna pee.”
    “Looks like you just did!” I said.
    I loved these people.
    From a distance, the 7-Eleven looked like a bug motel. Customers were sucked into the lit door and never seemed to come back out. I hate going to Sev with friends. The clerks assume we're there to steal. Even when we're paying for a Slurpee they act like we've shoved candy bars down our pants, planning to sell them for profit.
    Our mission complete, we stepped back onto the asphalt, chewing nougat and drinking cold Big Gulps. I should've been eating something healthy that Trent would approve of. An apple or a banana. But I didn't feel like it.
    I pointed to the darkening skies. “It's going to rain something fierce.”
    “Let's take the shortcut through the field,” Eve suggested. “To the bluffs. They'll take us to Naples—from there it's