Free Suffer II by E.E. Borton Page A

winking.
    “No way,” said Tyler, pressing himself up from the chair.
    “I’m just messing with you,” said Emily. “I mean they are up there, but they’re working on a project. We’re supposed to leave them alone until they finish.”
    “That wasn’t funny.”
    “What’s the big deal if they were making out?”
    “Because he’s fourteen, this isn’t his house, and he’s stupid,” said Dawson. “If Hank knew he was trying to pull something with a girl in his backyard, he’d tear him a new one. Your parents have been really good to us, and I don’t want to screw that up.”
    “Even if he was kissing a girl up there, my dad would never turn you two away,” said Emily, calming him down.  “He likes having y’all around.”
    “Good, because going to my house sucks.”
    “He knows that,” said Emily. “Did he tell you about the truck?”
    “He did. That kinda sucks too. I was looking forward to it. I really like working with your dad. He’s about the only adult who doesn’t treat me like I’m broken.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “You know,” said Dawson, looking away from Emily. “Because my mom died and my dad is a drunk. It’s like every time I see an adult they’re telling me how sorry they are for me and how horrible it must be not having a mother. Some even ask me if my dad’s feeling better, like he has a cold or something. They all know.”
    “Do I treat you like you’re broken?” asked Emily.
    “No, you don’t,” said Dawson, shaking his head. “A lot of kids at school do, but you don’t. It’s why I like hanging out with a pipsqueak like you instead of them. You don’t treat me any different. Besides, you’re a lot smarter than them. You don’t talk my ear off about boys, TV shows, or skincare products.”
    “Pipsqueak,” said Emily, sitting up straight. “You’re only two years older than me, jerk.”
    “Okay, you’re not a pipsqueak anymore,” said Dawson, laughing. “You’re more like a chubby buddy.”
    His new nickname earned him a punch in the arm. They both knew Emily was far from chubby. In the four years since they met, she had grown into a beautiful young lady. As Dawson was getting attention from several girls, Emily was getting attention from all the boys.
    They talked and laughed for thirty minutes as Tyler and Brittany finished their secret project. Talking and laughing was something that didn’t happen often with Dawson. He enjoyed his time and conversations with Emily. The subject changed when his brother and Brittany joined them. When Tyler got to the table, Dawson stood, grabbed his brother’s ears, and inspected his face.
    “Good,” said Dawson, looking at Brittany. “No lipstick.”
    “Please,” said Brittany, “In his dreams.”
    “Oh, I’m sure of that,” said Dawson. “I hear him whispering your name and making kissing sounds in his sleep.”
    “You’re such a dick,” said Tyler, pushing his laughing brother.
    “Watch your mouth, kid,” said Dawson, pushing him back much harder, but holding his smile.
    “You two cut it out,” said Karla, coming to the back door. “Dawson, Hank needs you in the garage.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Walking into the garage, he saw Hank standing in the empty space holding the door opener. He gave Dawson a Cheshire cat grin and pressed the button. When it stopped rising, Dawson’s jaw dropped.
    “Is that our truck?” asked Dawson.
    “Kind of,” said Hank. “I don’t own it anymore. You’ve got to check out the inside of it.”
    “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” said Dawson, taking his time with each step as he moved closer to the truck in the driveway.
    There were no flaws in the candy apple red paint with a jet black stripe down each side. Sunlight was beaming off the chrome handles and trim. Dawson knelt to get a closer look at the new tires wrapped around alloy rims.
    He rose to look inside the cab, but didn’t open the door. He didn’t want to put his