Travels - 2. High Hopes

Tuesday, 24 June 2014

Ripple Dairy, the Wilkinson family farm, wasn’t located in Oshkosh, Wisconsin after all; it was in a small town by the name of Van Dyne, halfway between the cities of Fond du Lac and Oshkosh. CJ entered the address his friend gave him in his phone, and it showed the distance between Chicago and their destination to be a little over 150 miles. He estimated it would take them just over three hours to get there allowing for traffic, road construction, and their regular rest period every two hours of travel. Even though he knew they were most likely still asleep due to the time difference, he texted his fathers to let them know they were leaving Boystown.

“Oh, man, this is so cool,” CJ said. The boys had made their scheduled stop on the edge of the Milwaukee metropolitan area, bought themselves energy drinks at the gas station, and switched drivers. Harley was now behind the wheel and would take them to his grandparents’ place since he knew the roads.

“What do you mean?” Harley asked.

“This road, it’s Highway 41. It goes all the way down to Miami!”

“Really? So you’ve been on it before?”

“Hell yeah. A gazillion times. It runs down the west coast and then turns east, going through Everglades National Park. It’s called Tamiami Trail there and it’s the last time you can cut across the state from the ocean to the Gulf of Mexico. Once it gets to Miami it becomes Calle Ocho, the main street in the middle of Little Havana.”

“Did you live around there?”

“Kinda but not really. A bit south. My mother and step-father own a house in Coral Gables near the University of Miami. So do my grandparents on my dad’s side.” CJ remained quiet for a bit, lost in his thoughts, realizing he missed his brother and his grandparents. “Speaking of grandparents, I really don’t know much about yours. Wanna give me the four-one-one on ‘em?”

“Shoot! I don’t know. They’re like my grandparents, you know? But they’re frickin’ cool. They’re old. They’re both originally from here in Wisconsin. The land the farm’s on belonged to my grandmother’s family, and they’ve been together since like forever. They supposedly met in high school when they were our age, and that was it. Grandma always says grandpa played hard to get, but she knew she was gonna marry him one day.” As he told the story, Harley became much more animated, CJ could tell there was a lot of affection for his grandparents. He allowed him to prattle on, actually enjoying it; for once not wanting to interrupt him. “They grew up in the sixties, I already told you they talk about being at Woodstock for that big music festival. Afterward, they moved to a commune somewhere in northern New York and stayed there for a couple of years.”

“Dude! Your grandparents were hippies? They lived in a commune?”

“Yep. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, and all that shit. Mom hates it when they start talking about the old days in front of me and my sisters, but Dad eats it up. A couple of years ago, he said I was old enough to hear about it. Since then I got to stay when they talked, while mom would drag my sisters away.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, they sound cool. Do you have any aunts or uncles? Any cousins running around?”

Harley’s demeanor changed when he replied to CJ’s question. His enthusiasm while speaking about his grandparents faded and his tone became somewhat somber. “One of each, but my uncle died when I was a little kid. I have two cousins on that side of the family, but I haven’t seen them in a while. Their mom remarried and moved away so I only got to have time with them during the summers. They used to come spend most of it at the farm. But they haven’t for the past few years. They’re both older than us, and one’s already in college.”

“I’m sorry. What about your aunt? Any kids?”

“Nope. She took over managing the farm with my grandparents after my uncle died. She’d always wanted to run it and my dad wasn’t interested. Anyway, she’s never been married and I don’t think she’s even had a girlfriend for―”

“What? Girlfriend? Your aunt’s a lesbian? You fucker! How come I never knew this before?”

“I don’t know. bruh. It’s never really come up. And it’s not a big deal, anyway.”

“Your best friend’s gay with two gay fathers and you don’t think I’d be interested in knowing you have an aunt who’s a lesbian?”

“But I don’t think of you guys as being gay! You’re just CJ, César, and Cap. You’re regular guys.”

“So that's why you didn't even blink when I told you I had two dads.”

Their chatter seemed to falter afterward. Harley concentrated on his driving while CJ gazed at the passing scenery. They’d left the city behind and the setting became rural. Green fields sprinkled with white clapboard houses, iconic red barns, and silos dotted the landscape―and cows; cows were everywhere. Lost in his reverie, he was surprised when Defiant slowed down and they took what the sign identified as the exit for Ridge Road.

Ten minutes later, Harley turned into a long gravel driveway leading to a two-story, white house, with a wide porch surrounding it. CJ noticed the high-pitched roof and assumed the snowfall in the area was significant in winter. Loud barking could be heard through the dust cloud Defiant generated as they approached the building. The boys jumped out of the Jeep and were immediately accosted by a large brown and black Rottweiler.

“Hey, mutt,” Harley said to the excited dog running around him and CJ, bouncing in obvious delight at seeing the boys. He winked at his bud, dropping to his knees, and scratching the energetic dog’s head. “Have you missed me?”

“No, he hasn’t. And don’t call him that, his name’s not mutt.” The gruff admonition came from a tall, older man standing on the porch, holding the screen door open for the platinum-haired woman following him. “You’re late. We’ve been waiting for you and I don’t have time to waste. Your aunt is out of town and your grandmother and I are all alone here wasting the day away. Do you think the cows are going to milk themselves?”

“Shut up already, Wade. When the heck was the last time you milked a cow yourself anyway? It’s so good to see you, Harley! It’s so nice to have you here again. Come give me a hug.” The woman spread her arms and Harley rushed to wrap his long arms around her while she looked over his shoulder at CJ who was still scratching the pooch behind the ears, trying not to be bowled over by the animal leaning into him. “You get over here also, young man. Wade, get their luggage?”

“Come on, bruh,” said Harley, waving CJ over. “These are my grandparents, Wade and Vanessa Wilkinson. And the mutt’s name is Jerry Garcia. Careful with him, he’ll lick your face off if you give him a chance.”

“Mr. Wilkinson, Mrs. Wilkinson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” A couple of words of CJ’s greeting were muffled when he tried to slip his t-shirt on at the same time. “Thank you so much for inviting me to visit.”

“Now, see? That’s a polite kid,” Wade said as he approached the Jeep, stopping to shake CJ’s proffered hand. “Why can’t you be more like that, Harley?”

“Don’t start with me, Grandpa. I’m on vacation and you’re not allowed to pick on me.”

“Welcome to Ripple, CJ. How about you kids come inside for a bit and I’ll get you some cookies? Wade,”―Vanessa called out to her husband―“just drop the bags on the porch. We’ll get the boys settled once they’ve had something to eat. I’m certain they’re peckish after their drive.”

“I am, Grandma,” Harley replied. “We had breakfast in Chicago but I haven’t eaten anything since then. What are you making for lunch? I hope we’re having some of your fried chicken tonight. You know it’s my favorite. Did you guys bake brownies too? Oh, CJ, you should know Grandma used to be an English teacher. She’s always using strange words like peckish. And…”

CJ, still petting the dog, stood to his friend’s side as Harley launched into one of his usual monologues. He seized the opportunity to surreptitiously study the grandparents. He took in the longish white hair on Wade Wilkinson’s head; there was a lot of it with no sign of a receding hairline at all, which he would have expected on a man his age. His ears were mostly hidden behind the waves of gray but he could see one of them had a small golden hoop hanging from the earlobe, which made the boy smile. Mr. Wilkinson had a long face, deeply tanned and creased, probably from a lifetime spent working outdoors, with a square jaw similar to his grandson’s―the family resemblance was uncanny. CJ felt as if he was looking at Harley fifty years in the future.

“I wasn’t sure if your friend would be interested in the natural variety, so we brought in some of the fake stuff this morning.” Vanessa placed two pitchers on the wooden table the boys sat at. She ushered them into the kitchen and urged them to take a seat while placing a platter stacked with cookies in front of them.

CJ was confused and looked at Harley for an explanation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Hmph,” Harley replied, holding up his hand while trying to swallow the treat he’d stuffed in his mouth as soon as he sat on his chair. “She means raw milk or the type they sell in the supermarkets. You know they heat up the stuff to kill any bugs it may have, right?”

“Ummm, you mean pasteurization?” CJ asked.

“That’s right, kid,” Wade replied. He’d walked in moments after Harley and his friend had. “Living on a dairy farm, we’re lucky all we have to do is walk to the barn, squeeze a couple of teats, and we end up with the freshest, most delicious drink in the world.”

“I’ll try it raw. I’ve never had it that way.”

“Smart boy!” Vanessa said, pouring a glass for their guest before doing the same for their grandson. “Most of our milk goes through the process but we keep some back each day for our use.”

“This is good,” CJ said after taking a sip. “I like it. Tastes a little different from what I’m used to, richer. Oh, and the cookies are awesome!”

“You can thank my grandfather for that. He’s the baker in the house. Wait until you try the brownies. Do we have any, Grandpa?”

“Baked a batch this morning when I made the cookies. But we’ll save them for dessert. Don’t want to spoil your appetite this close to lunch. What are you doing until then? Any ideas?”

“We’ll take our stuff up to our rooms first. Then I wanna show CJ the equipment barn, and my baby. And after lunch, I’ll give him a tour of the rest of the place.”

“Are you planning on taking it out?”

“Maybe later today? If not, tomorrow for sure. I want to…”

While Harley and his grandfather discussed plans for the remainder of the day and the following one, CJ poured another half-glass of milk and helped himself to one more cookie. The resemblance between the two men he realized was more than physical; Mr. Wilkinson was also a talker. Vanessa seemed quieter. She hadn’t said much after her effusive greeting and now leaned against the kitchen sink, her arms crossed over her body, a benign smile on her face. There was an affectionate luster to her eyes. The rangy woman truly loved her husband and grandson, he thought. The creases around her eyes and mouth hinted at someone who laughed a lot; the deep tan on her face was a testament to her spending as much time outside as Wade.

“Let’s go, Harley,” CJ said, pushing his chair back and standing. “Let’s get our bags inside and get settled. If I sit here any longer I’m going to finish all the cookies and the pitcher of milk.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Vanessa said. “Plenty more milk where that came from. And Wade’s a compulsive baker. You eat the tray of cookies if you want; he’ll just go bake some more.”

The boys retrieved their luggage from the front porch and CJ followed his friend up the stairs. The large farmhouse had plenty of rooms on the second floor. It’d been built for a family larger than the one now occupying it. Harley suggested they change shoes; flip-flops weren’t the best thing to walk around the machinery, he claimed. So, stripped to the waist, wearing shorts and sneakers, the boys bounded down the stairs, out the back door, and headed towards a large structure located about halfway between the house and the dairy operations.

“Welcome to heaven,” Harley said sliding open the large door to reveal a cavernous space full of motor vehicles and farm implements.

“Wow, it’s so clean,” CJ exclaimed. “I expected this place to be dusty and full of straw.”

“You’re such a damn city boy, bruh. All the dairy equipment’s kept spotless. Remember people will be drinking what they produce here at the farm. And the grandparents tend to keep everything else around the place the same way.”

Harley walked past several pieces of equipment CJ had no idea what they were used for. He did recognize a large riding mower and wondered if that’s what was used to maintain the entire property. He was about to ask when his buddy stopped in front of what were obviously motorcycles, all but one covered with tarps.

“That’s the one Grandpa rides all the time,” Harley said, pointing at the uncovered one. “It’s an Electra Glide Ultra Classic and he must have taken it out this morning, it’s all dusty. We’ll have to clean it for him after lunch. And this one is his first one.” Harley pulled off the covering of another motorcycle. “A ’52 Panhead. He’s the only one allowed to ride it. But I’m hoping he’ll let me take it out for a spin sometime this summer.”

“Where’s yours?” CJ couldn’t help smiling at the excitement being shown by his friend. His usual enthusiasm was a magnitude greater than what he normally displayed.

Harley took two steps past his grandfather’s motorcycle, smiling. “Ta da!” he said, whipping off the tarp covering a smaller, mostly dark blue motorcycle. “It’s a 2002 Sportster 883. It’s not really mine, all the bikes belong to the farm. But Grandpa bought this one used, real cheap, so he could teach me and my cousins how to ride. I think he’ll also use it with my sisters when they’re ready. Hey! I’ve got an idea. You wanna learn how to ride, right?”

“Hell yeah! Of course I do. Papa promised I could take the course after I had my license.”

“Great! That’s what we’re doing over the next couple of days. I’ll teach you how to ride and Grandpa can help out if we need him.”

“Sick! Are you gonna start it to see if it’s running? Hasn’t it been sitting here since last summer?”

“No need. We keep all the batteries hooked up to a trickle charger, but this one isn’t connected to it. That means Grandpa got it ready for me before we got here. Look, it’s not even dusty.” Standing to the left of the motorcycle, Harley threw his right leg over the middle of it and settled himself on the leather-covered seat, smiling even more than before. He straightened the bike, turned on the ignition, and while holding in the clutch with his left hand, hit the starter switch, and turned the throttle located on the right side handlebar. The Harley-Davidson rumbled to life; the throaty sound of the exhaust making both boys cheer. Harley looked at CJ who gave him two thumbs up. He turned the engine off, leaned the bike until it once again rested on the kickstand, and dismounted while at the same time pumping his arm in the air.

“This is going to be so cool,” CJ said. “I’ll have a head start when I take the riding course.”

“Come on, bruh. Let’s head back to the house so we can see what they’re fixing for lunch. Then I’ll show you around the rest of the buildings and you can watch the cows being milked this afternoon. I also wanna tell Grandpa I’m taking the mirrors off the bike.”

“Why?”

“Duh, so they don’t break when you drop it.”

“What do you mean drop it?” CJ asked, sounding offended. “I’m not gonna drop it.”

“Oh yes, you will. You’ll definitely lay it down. Don’t worry, I did it when I first started too.”

After eating, both boys changed into jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Harley switched sneakers for boots and CJ wore his PF Flyer hi-top sneakers. Wade followed them outside to the barn and, while Harley went inside to retrieve the motorcycle, he gave CJ some basic oral instructions about its operation. Most of it the teen was aware of from the hours he’d spent riding behind one of his fathers or the other.

“Okay, now accelerate to around twenty miles per hour and try the turn again.” Harley spoke as he straightened the orange traffic cones his grandfather had placed around the concrete apron in front of the building to delineate the course. CJ had knocked some over as he tried to make tight left and right turns for the umpteenth time. “And relax. You’re gripping the handlebar so tightly you’re gonna hurt your hands. This is easy. You’re doing great. Remember lean into the turn.”

“Right, lean into the turn and drop the bike,” CJ replied.

“Don’t be such a wuss! If you fall you won’t break anything. You’re going too slow to really hurt yourself and any damage to the motorcycle I can fix over the rest of the summer.”

 

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

CJ came awake with a start when Harley barged into his room and jumped on top of him. “Time to wake up, city boy. We’ve got stuff to do before we eat.”

“Ughh! Get off me, you asshole!” CJ exclaimed, grasping the blankets so they wouldn’t slide off while his friend flopped around on top of him like a fish out of water. He was naked underneath and a knee had connected with his morning erection. He tried to turn sideways so he could knock the boy off him, but Harley was already jumping off the bed.

“Come on, bruh. Wash your face and throw on your shorts and shoes. We got work to do.”

“Fine, fine, I’m awake. Get out so I can go pee. I’ll be down soon.”

“Not gonna happen. I don’t trust you. You’ll probably go back to sleep. We need to get going. I’m hungry and they won’t feed me until we finish up our chores.”

“What do you mean chores?” CJ asked, finally giving up and sitting on the side of the bed trying to finish getting his bearings.

“Yuck! You have a boner!”

“Like you didn’t when you woke up. What’s the big deal? We’ve been around each other with morning wood before. What chores?”

“Easy stuff, we gotta feed the chickens and get the eggs. Grandma’s making omelets.”

“Really? We get to collect our eggs for breakfast?”

A few minutes later, CJ was in the kitchen saying hello to Harley’s grandparents and then followed him out the door with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. The dozen or so birds flocked around the boys as they spread their feed through the enclosure, CJ enjoying the new experience. He held a wire basket in his hand, while Harley reached into the hen house and passed the eggs to him.

After breakfast, the boys changed clothes and CJ mounted the motorcycle once again to practice riding on his own. He had become comfortable with the constant use of both hands and feet to control the bike and was getting maybe a little cocky when Harley switched tasks for him.

“Okay, we’re gonna start at the doors and you’re gonna accelerate to around twenty or twenty-five miles. I’ll be standing near the end of the concrete and will tell you when I want you to apply the brakes. It’s going to be a sudden stop and the idea is for the wheels to remain on the pad and not hit the dirt. Remember to use both your front and rear brakes. Ready?”

“Hell, yeah. Let’s do this!”

“Go!” Harley cried out sprinting ahead of the motorcycle. “STOP!” He shouted as CJ neared the end of their practice course.

CJ squeezed the front wheel lever hard with his right hand while slamming on the rear wheel brake pedal with his right foot. The agile vehicle came to a sudden stop but inertia kept his body moving forward. He lost his balance and started to fall sideways. As he let go of the controls, the engine stalled and CJ jumped to the side, out of the way of the tumbling motorcycle.

“FUCK! Fuck! Fuck, fuck,” CJ chanted, holding his elbow while staring at Harley. “Stop laughing and help me up, you fucktard.”

“Sorry,” Harley managed to blurt out between large chortles. “What was that you said about not dropping the motorcycle?”

“Asshole!”

“You okay? What’s with the elbow?”

“It hurts, that’s what’s up with it. I slammed it on the cement when I fell. It’s fine. I guess no pain, no gain applies to riding motorcycles too.”

By the time they stopped for lunch, CJ was doing so well they decided to skip the afternoon practice. Instead, they planned to ride into Oshkosh so CJ could see the city.

“Where are your helmets?” CJ asked once Harley had reattached the mirrors and they were ready to leave.

“In the shed, but we don’t need no stinking helmets. We’re only going for a short ride. No silly helmet laws in Wisconsin. They allow those who ride to decide.”

“Even if we’re not adults?”

“Not really. You’re supposed to wear them if you’re under eighteen. But if we get stopped I’ll probably know the cops. We all know each other around here.”

“That sounds awesome. It’d be my first time riding without protection. But the dads would prolly kill me if we got stopped, or crashed, and I wasn’t wearing one. Pull them out and let’s use them. Oh, and that last line you used? It’s too good to be original. Who’d you steal it from?”

“He, he, he. Don’t know. But it’s what I’ve always heard bikers say when discussing helmet laws with safety nazis.”

“Hey, are we allowed to ride motorcycles with our licenses? I know you’re older and already have the second one, but have you got the motorcycle endorsement on it?”

“Nah, but I do on my Wisconsin one.”

“You have two licenses? Is that legal?”

“Nope, but I’m not telling them and neither are you. Wisconsin allows you to get a license a lot easier and I got mine after I reached the right age using the farm address. Grandpa signed the authorization forms for me.”

“Sick!”

Returning to the farm in time for dinner, they parked the motorcycle in the barn and wiped it down with clean, damp rags to remove road dirt and squashed bugs. “Hang on, let me get something for after dinner,” Harley said, walking over to the shelves on the wall and retrieving a Harley-Davidson coffee can from it.

“Harley-Davidson coffee? Really?”

“Yeah, it’s crap either my grandfather or my father buy all the time. I think it’s cool they have all these things with my name on them. But this one’s special.”

“Why?” CJ asked before catching a whiff of the aroma given off by the contents.

“Because it’s where Grandpa keeps his secret stash hidden. I’m just borrowing a joint so we can smoke tonight after they go to their room.”

 

“I think I’m jealous.” Brett watched his husband get dressed, sitting on the bed naked, holding a pair of jeans in his hands.

“Get over it, Jarhead. The guy ogled you as much as he looked at me.” They’d been cruised by a muscular daddy while they’d worked out in the hotel’s fitness center. When the man’s blatant moves had been met with no more than pleasant, friendly smiles and words but no encouragement, he’d left with a dejected look on his face. After two days of constant meetings, they’d cut their business day short following another too-rich lunch with real estate managers and decided to spend the afternoon in the gym.

“Not of him, although I can’t deny he was a hot fucker. And you know I like my studs older.” Brett’s signature eyebrow wiggles set César to chuckling. “I’m jealous of our son.”

“You wanna feed chickens and muck out stalls in a barn?”

“Not really…”

“Then what?”

“I’m envious of all he’s learning without us around. He’s not even in school and he’s dealt with a snotty hotel clerk in a way I can’t even pull off most of the time. He’s learning how to ride a motorcycle, and I always thought I’d be the one who’d teach him. And okay, I might be a little jealous of the farm life experience also.” Brett stood, stepped into his Levi’s, and adjusted his dick―allowing it to settle down the left side―before buttoning up his fly.

“I’ve told you before not all learning happens in school. Isn’t that one of the reasons we are allowing him to travel by himself this summer?”

“Yeah, I know. But I still miss him, okay?”

 

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Thursday morning was a repeat of the previous day. The boys woke up early. CJ grabbed a cup of coffee while Harley chugged a Mountain Dew, and they headed out to the chicken enclosure where they were greeted by clucking hens and the rooster crowing and strutting around. Breakfast was thick slices of french toast made from left-over bread Wade had baked the previous day, and plump, juicy link sausages Vanessa claimed were homemade by neighbors who raised pigs. Motorcycle practice followed after the guys had changed into proper attire. Harley laid out a length of wood across the course for a while so CJ could practice riding over it―something he claimed resembled riding over railroad tracks in the real world.

“Time to quit,” Harley said sometime later, holding the bike as CJ dismounted. “I’m hungry and I don’t think there’s much more you need to learn. The riding class will include some book stuff but you should ace that with no problem. All you need is a bike and lots of practice.”

“Should we screw the mirrors back on? Are we gonna take it out again this afternoon?”

“Yes and no. We’ll put the mirrors back so the bike will be ready for tomorrow. But I have something else in mind for this afternoon. Let’s go back to the house and change into shorts, getting too damn hot for jeans.”

On the kitchen table, they found a small Igloo with a post-it note on it reading, “HAVE FUN – Love, Grandma.” Harley explained he’d asked his grandmother to pack them lunch so they could have a picnic. He asked CJ to grab the cooler and follow him back to the barn. Instead of the motorcycles, he approached an ATV, strapped a couple of towels and their lunch to the back using bungee cords, and told CJ to climb on behind him.

“Can I drive?” CJ asked, feeling excited to be trying something new.

“Sure, but on the way back. I don’t want to have to give you directions all the time. We’re going for a tour of the place. Then we’ll cross the pasture and head for the tree line. There’s a creek back there and we can go swimming right after we eat.”

“We don’t have to wait at least an hour?” CJ asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Now you sound like my frickin’ mother!”

After riding around the main compound and the dairy operations, Harley headed in the direction of the trees he’d mentioned, weaving in between cows grazing in the open. Shouting above the noise of the engine, he nixed the idea of trying to tip a cow over when CJ suggested it.

“I wanna live a long time and I don’t think the grandparents would allow it if we hurt one of their precious animals. I swear they love those damn things more than they do me.”

“Not so sure about that, buddy. I’ve seen how they treat you.”

“We’ll stop for a closer look on the way back, but if you walk in a couple of feet from the edge over there”―Harley said pointing―“that’s where Grandpa grows his stuff.”

“Weed?” CJ’s eyes shot wide open. He was drooling over the idea of seeing live cannabis plants.

Harley nodded while following a well-worn path through the trees until they reached a minuscule clearing on the banks of a bubbling stream. “Come on, CJ. Let’s take a dip to rinse off the dirt and then we can eat. And yeah, that was the patch where the stuff we smoked last night came from.”

“So what’s the deal with that? Your grandparents don’t seem like the uptight type but you were sneaking around when you hit the stash and when we smoked the spliff.”

“It’s kinda like don’t ask, don’t tell. Mostly because of Mom. Dad grew up here and has been smoking since he was a kid but Mom’s a bit more conservative. I mean, she knows what’s going on but she’d rather not see it out in the open. Since you and I are minors, even where pot use is legal, we couldn’t do it. So the grandparents told me there would be no loaded brownies or anything else like that while you were here. Grandpa did wink and whisper to me that the can was fully loaded.”

“Fuck that’s cold!” CJ screamed when he waded into the water. Since neither one of the teens had been wearing a t-shirt, they both stripped their shorts off, revealing neither wore underwear, and ended up splashing around in the narrow creek until CJ felt sufficiently clean and refreshed.

“You’re such a wuss,” Harley said while he dried off and stepped into his shorts. “It’s cool because it’s still early in the summer. It’ll be warmer by the end of the season.”

“No shit, Sherlock. A lot of fucking good that does me.” CJ stood naked for a few minutes, allowing the warmth of the sun to finish taking away the chill of their dip before he slipped his shorts back on, and joined Harley at the water’s edge. His friend was already rummaging through the food packed by his grandmother. “What’s for lunch?”

“Cold left-over chicken, fresh bread, two chunks of cheese―they’re probably made with our own milk―brownies, and my favorite: pickled eggs.” Harley held up a plastic baggy with what looked like Easter eggs to CJ. They were a strange shade between pink and purple.

“Never had those. They’re good?”

“They’re frikin’ awesome. Grandma always keeps a batch in the refrigerator, but they must have been hidden behind something else. I hadn’t seen them. They’re just hard-boiled eggs soaked in some concoction with vinegar, salt, and stuff. I know the color comes from beet juice. Here, try it,” Harley said handing the bag over to his friend.

“Damn, they’re good. Why do I want a beer now?” CJ said after taking a tentative bite.

“All the salt. You can have a bottle of water or some milk.”

“Both.”

“Cool, help yourself. And since we don’t have beer, I raided the coffee can again. We can chill after we eat and jump back in the creek before we return.”

The boys had stayed by the water until the effects of the pot had mostly worn off before returning to the barn. They’d hosed down and dried the ATV and then ensconced themselves in the den to watch the World Cup. The game was a heartbreaker. The Americans played hard but ended up short as the team from Germany defeated them 1-0. They’d snuck back outside during half-time and raided, first the coffee can, and then the cookie jar. Although pissed-off at the final score, they were still laughing and having a good time.

“Oh, man, that sucked,” CJ said as he and Harley headed upstairs to wash up and put on shirts before dinner.

“Yeah, but they’re still alive. Next game’s against Belgium.”

“I’ll be back home by then. Prolly end up watching it at Rogo’s. After all the bad shit I’ve gone through this past year, I want this summer to be perfect. So far so good. But it would be awesome if the US made it to the finals.”

“Don’t hold your breath, bruh. Those are some high hopes.”