The Awakening

by McBean, Brett

  Toby laughed. “I practically live right across the street to him, dumbass.”

  “Well, I bet you haven’t heard the other bit of news.”

  “What other news?”

  The smugness returned to Warrick’s face. He waved an index finger. “Uh-uh. Not until you tell me what you guys have planned.”

  “We told you, our parents are having a barbecue,” Toby said, hoping to call Warrick’s bluff.

  Warrick shrugged, started turning away. “Have it your way. But you guys are never going to believe...”

  “Okay, we’re having a sleepover,” Frankie blurted.

  Toby winced.

  Good one, Frankie...

  “That’s more like it,” Warrick said, turning back. “A sleepover, hey? How fucking gay.” He smiled to himself.

  “Yeah, well, now you know what we’re doing, how about telling us this other bit of news?”

  “All in good time, Fairchild. Now, where is this little fag party being held? Yours or Wilmont’s place?”

  “We’ll give you one guess. If you guess right, we’ll tell you,” Toby said.

  “Well, using my incredible powers of deduction, I’m guessing the sleepover is at Fairchild’s place.”

  “Why do you think that?” Toby said.

  “Not only is your backyard bigger, but you have a tree house, and I know you pussies will want to use it. So, am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Toby muttered. “You’re a genius. Anyway, we’ve told you what you want to know. Now tell us this amazing bit of news.”

  “I don’t know whether I want to, now.”

  “Come on, just tell us,” Frankie said.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. Only because I like you guys so much.” Warrick liked being an asshole; but he liked spreading gossip more. He leaned in close. He smelled like cheese and pimple cream. “Dwayne Marcos and his gang got hit with water bombs yesterday after school. Well, it was Dwayne’s car, but it amounts to the same thing.”

  Silence hung in the air like a lead balloon. Toby knew he had to speak before Frankie said something stupid like, “Yeah, we know. We were the ones who did it.”

  “No shit,” Toby said, feigning surprise. “Are you kidding?”

  “I spoke to Dwayne and the guys after it happened. They told me all about it. They were angry as hell, especially Dwayne.”

  Warrick was on good terms with Dwayne and his goons—about as good as a kid from junior high can be. They seemed to like his stupid antics and crude humor.

  “Wow,” Frankie said. “So he was really angry, huh?”

  “Fucking A. Said whenever he found out who had bombed his car, he and his gang were going to make them pay. But he told me not to tell anyone about it, okay? He’s kinda embarrassed about the whole thing.”

  Toby nodded. “Sure. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Frankie?”

  “Me neither. You can be sure of that. So do they have any idea who did it?”

  Warrick shook his head.

  “Well, we’d better be going,” Toby announced. “See ya ‘round, Warrick.”

  Toby picked up his bags and turned to leave. He wanted to be away from Warrick Coleman, away from talk of the water bombing incident. He feared either Frankie would somehow let it slip that they were the ones responsible, or Warrick would pick up on their guilt—either way would land them in deep shit.

  “Have fun at your little tea party,” Warrick said. “Say, Fairchild, I didn’t think your mommy would allow you to buy all that junk food?”

  Toby turned back around. “Sure. As long as we pay for it, she doesn’t care.”

  “Really? That’s not the Mrs. Fairchild I know.”

  “What the hell would you know about Toby’s mom?” Frankie said.

  “I know she wears blue G-strings, and that she has a birth mark right above her pubic hair.”

  Toby felt a rush of anger and disgust. “Shut the hell up, Warrick.”

  “What’re you going to do? Run home and cry to mommy?”

  For some reason, Warrick was being cruder and meaner than usual. Maybe he was spending too much time around Dwayne Marcos.

  “Just fuck off and leave us alone,” Toby said.

  “Come on, Fairchild, I was only fucking with ya. Don’t be such a crybaby.”

  “Don’t be such a prick,” Frankie countered.

  Toby didn’t need this. He didn’t want his day ruined by Warrick Coleman. “Come on Frankie, let’s go,” Toby said and they turned to leave.

  Warrick said: “I can help sneak that food past your mom.”

  Toby and Frankie halted. “What are you talking about?” Toby said, facing Warrick.

  “I know your mom would never allow you to have all that junk food. So, you have a problem. Am I right?”

  Toby hated it when Warrick displayed some of that usually dormant intelligence—it made him more dangerous. “So what if you are?”

  “So I can get the food into your tree house without your mom finding out.”

  Toby eyed Warrick with suspicion. “What are you proposing...and what do you want in return?”

  “Who says I want anything? Other than to help out two of my best buds.”

  “Cut the crap,” Frankie said.

  Face bursting with cunning glee, Warrick said, “Okay, here’s what I propose.”

  When Toby and Frankie walked into the kitchen, Toby’s mom was in the middle of making a pecan pie. It was his dad’s favorite. Toby hated pecan pie.

  “Hi boys. What did you buy? Not too much junk food I hope.”

  “Nah. Just a few things,” Toby said. He and Frankie placed the two bags on top of the kitchen table—which, Toby noticed, had since been cleaned. His mom rinsed her hands then wandered over, just as Toby was taking out the bottle of Dr. Pepper. He handed it to Frankie.

  “No Coke?”

  “We still have some in the fridge,” Toby said. “I’ll just finish that off.”

  “Good boy. Sensible thinking.” She turned to Frankie, who was putting the bottle of Dr. Pepper in the fridge. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff. Tastes like cough medicine.”

  “Mom says the same thing,” Frankie said.

  His mom peered inside the second bag. “I’m impressed,” she said. “I thought you two would’ve bought at least twice this much.”

  Toby and Frankie exchanged a knowing glance.

  “So, have we passed inspection?” Toby said.

  His mom smiled and nodded. “Sure. Now, after you go and clean your teeth like you promised, go on out and see your father. He’s in the garage.”

  “You wait here, Frankie. I’ll be back in a minute,” Toby said and as he left the kitchen, he turned and said, “Thanks for cleaning the table, mom.”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “I’ve found all the tent parts for you,” Toby’s dad said when Toby and Frankie entered the cluttered garage. Tent pegs, poles and the tent itself were scattered over the concrete floor. “Saves you two from trying to find it all. God knows I had trouble finding everything.” He wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans, straightened and nodded to the bag Toby was holding. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Just some food,” Toby said.

  “Ooh, anything for me?” His dad walked over. His face was smudged with dirt and his hair mussed.

  Although they no longer had to bribe his dad, Toby figured they had more than enough food, so giving up a few chocolate bars wasn’t too painful. Toby dipped into the bag and pulled out a Twix and a 5th Avenue. He handed them to his dad.

  “Thanks kid. Now, there’s a mallet on top of the toolbox. If you need any help putting up the tent, just give me a yell.”

  “We’ll be fine, Dad,” Toby said.

  “Yeah, we’re the tent experts.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll be in here putting up the punching bag if you need me,” his dad said as he tore open the Twix bar and took a bite.

  “Come on,” Toby said and he and Frankie left the shado
ws of the garage and stepped back out into the brightness of the morning. They headed over to the elm that loomed like a sentry over the house. With bag in hand, Toby started up the ladder (which was really just a series of planks nailed to the trunk).

  When he reached the top of the ladder, he pushed open the trap door, then climbed the rest of the way up, into the tree house. Frankie followed, closing the trap door as he climbed inside.

  “Want me to bolt it?” Frankie asked.

  “Nah, we won’t be up here very long.”

  The bolt on the trap door had been his mom’s idea—she didn’t want the door left open for someone to fall through. But Toby liked her suggestion—it gave them more privacy.

  Toby placed the bag of candy down as Frankie wandered over to the window overlooking the next door neighbor’s yard. Toby and his dad had hung thick canvas sheets over the two windows, mostly to combat the rain, but also for privacy. Currently, due to the warm, dry weather, the canvas sheets were tied with ropes to metal pegs on either side of the windows.

  “This is the life,” Frankie mused and Toby knew exactly how he felt. The tree house was their own special place, a place where they could hide away from the world and talk about anything, without having to worry about the invading eyes and ears of adults. Toby felt a sense of place up here in the roughly-made house of wood and nails. He loved the fact that he and his dad had made it with their own hands—about five years ago now—and he loved that he could share it with his best friend. But of course he would never voice these feelings. So instead he squeezed out a fart.

  “Bombing raid!” Frankie yelled. “Take cover!”

  “And there’s plenty more where that came from,” Toby laughed.

  A foul odor filled the tree house.

  Standing by the window, Frankie scrunched up his face. “Jesus, Toby. That stinks! What did ya have for breakfast? Baked beans and rotten eggs?”

  “I don’t think it smells that bad,” Toby said.

  “Well, then you’re fucked in the head.”

  “Talking about being fucked in the head, what do you think Warrick has in mind?”

  “Who knows,” Frankie said. “Probably have us do his homework all throughout high school or something.”

  “Well he can forget that. What he’s doing isn’t that big of a deal. It’s not like he’s saving us from getting beaten up by Dwayne.”

  “Yeah, well, after tomorrow, we won’t have to worry about getting beaten up by Dwayne.” Frankie threw a few clumsy punches.

  “It takes a lot longer than one day to become a boxer,” Toby said.

  “Yeah but I’m super good. Like Muhammad Ali. I’m gonna float like a butterfly and sting like a bee!” He threw some more punches.

  “More like float like an elephant and sting like a poodle.”

  “I bet I’m better than you.”

  “Yeah, we’ll just see.” Toby headed for the trap door. “Let’s try and get the tent up before lunch.”

  Frankie followed. He stopped and glanced back at the bag. “You sure the chocolates will be okay up here?”

  “Sure. This place keeps pretty cool.” The elm gave good shade. “And if they do melt, we’ll just make chocolate milkshakes.”

  As Toby headed back down the ladder, he heard Frankie drone: “Hmmm, chocolate milkshake,” and Toby smiled.

  It took them almost three hours to put up the tent. During that time the day had warmed up considerably and Toby’s dad had long since set up the punching bag. Toby hammered the last peg into the ground and standing back, said to Frankie, “Finished at last.”

  “Thank Christ,” Frankie said, wiping his brow.

  “Blasphemy will get you everywhere.”

  Toby turned to see his dad standing behind them, admiring their work. “See? Told you we could do it.”

  “Yeah. And it only took you guys half the day.”

  “It’s only one o’clock.”

  “Looks good, though, huh?” Frankie said.

  Toby’s dad nodded slowly. “Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all. Well done guys. Now come inside. You two deserve some food and a nice cold drink.”

  “Hey, that sounds good,” Frankie said. “My stomach totally agrees with you Mr. Fairchild.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Toby’s dad said, and laughed.

  Toby and Frankie were up in the tree house, polishing off the half a dozen ham and salad sandwiches that Toby’s mom had made, when she called out: “Toby! Warrick Coleman is here.”

  Toby checked his watch - 1:30 on the dot. “He’s right on time,” he muttered. He stood up and leaned out the window that faced the back door. “Warrick? What’s he doing here?”

  His mom, standing by the back door, raised both hands in the air. “I don’t know. Come over to play?”

  His mom still used terms like “play”. Sometimes Toby wondered if she knew he was fourteen years old, not four.

  “Okay, send him out,” Toby called.

  His mom headed back inside. Toby sat back on the rug that covered most of the floor of the tree house. “Here goes nothing,” Toby said and took a drink of Coke.

  “I reckon we should grab the bag off him then push him down the ladder.”

  Toby chuckled. “You think he’s eaten any of our food?”

  “I bet you he has,” Frankie said. “Maybe that’s his reward.”

  Toby shook his head. “I doubt it. Warrick will want something more than free food.”

  “Hey! Are you guys up there?”

  Toby flinched at the sound of Warrick’s voice.

  “Let’s pretend we’re not here,” Frankie whispered.

  Toby liked that idea, but he also wanted the food they had bought. So he stood up and headed back to the window. “Yeah, we’re here.” He left the window, strode over to the trap door and slid back the bolt, then sat back down.

  “Let’s try and get rid of him as quickly as possible,” Toby said. “I don’t want my Saturday ruined by him.”

  The trap door flung open.

  “How nice of you to make it,” Frankie said and tucked into the last of the ham and salad sandwiches.

  “Frankie stuffing his face. Gee, what a surprise.”

  “Fuck you,” Frankie mumbled, though it actually came out as: “Uck ou.”

  “That’s no way to greet your new best friend. Especially after I brought you your food and all.” Warrick was standing by the now closed trap door, a green backpack dangling from his right hand.

  “Which I bet you ate most of,” Toby said.

  “Never,” Warrick said. “When I make a deal with someone, I keep it.”

  “Not eating the food was never part of the deal,” Toby said.

  “Ah, right you are. But I am a man of honor and pride. Besides, how would I be able to get what I wanted from you boys if I went ahead and consumed the very goods I was making the deal with?”

  Toby frowned. “You talk a lot of shit, you know that?”

  Warrick shrugged and gazed around the tree house. “So this is the infamous Fairchild treehouse. It’s smaller than I imagined. Where’s the en-suite?”

  “Get bent. Now, show us the food. I want to make sure that you really didn’t eat any of it.”

  “Aren’t you going to give me the grand tour first?”

  Toby sighed. “Okay. There’s a window. And over there is another window. And, oh look, there is the trap door. Which, if you don’t hurry up and give us the fucking candy, you’ll find yourself falling through headfirst.”

  Frankie chortled, spitting out bits of sandwich.

  Warrick shook his head. “You’re a regular Jim Carrey, Fairchild. Okay, I’ll give you your food. But first, my payoff.”

  Toby looked at Frankie, grimaced, then got to his feet. Judging by Warrick’s remark, Toby figured he wanted money. He faced Warrick. “We don’t have much money, Warrick. And I’m not going to give you all of my savings.”

  “Or a blowjob,” Frankie said.

  Warrick grinned. �
�How did you know, Wilmont?”

  “It’s all over town. You love to suck guys’ cocks.”

  “Well I can’t very well suck girls’ cocks, now can I?”

  “You know what I meant,” Frankie said, looking embarrassed.

  “Enough of this shit,” Toby said. “Tell us how much money you want, Warrick.”

  “My, my, aren’t we touchy today,” Warrick said. “Anyway, who said anything about money? I don’t need any money. What I want I steal. What I don’t want I steal. I have no use for money.”

  It dawned on Toby then that whatever it was that Warrick wanted in exchange for bringing the rest of the junk food was going to be bad. His gut went all squirmy and his heart started beating faster. Maybe, deep down, he knew what Warrick was going to ask. Maybe he had known it all along; he just couldn’t bear to think about it.

  “I want to stay tonight. Camp out with you two dweebs.”

  “No way,” Toby said. “Not a chance. Forget it.”

  “Yeah, not on your life,” Frankie said.

  “I helped you guys by bringing your food over. You owe me.”

  “Yeah, we owe you,” Toby said. “But not that much.

  “So this is the thanks I get,” Warrick huffed, “for risking my ass for you two.”

  Toby choked out a laugh. “Risking your ass? You sneaked some food over. The only person you had to worry about was my mom. The worst she could do was tell you off. And you think that’s worth letting you camp with us tonight?”

  “You’re damn right,” Warrick said. “Hell, it might even be fun.”

  “Not for us it won’t be,” Frankie said. “Anyway, why do you want to spend the night camping with us? We don’t even like you.”

  Warrick’s face saddened and for what Toby thought might be the first time, Warrick looked hurt. He actually resembled a human being with feelings.

  Good one, Frankie. Why’d ya have to say that for?

  Toby didn’t want Warrick to stay any more than Frankie, but that didn’t mean he hated the guy. “That’s not true,” he said and frowned at Frankie. Frankie shrugged and mouthed What? Toby turned back. “Of course we like you, it’s just...we’ve had this night planned for a long time. Just the two of us. And besides, the tent is only big enough for two people.”