Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

hi-jinx.” Putting her hand in her hair like a fashion model, she laughed, “and I’m not falling for it, ya know.”

Roger cackled with laughter, “She sure got you, Arland.”

I held my head and spun around. Making a big deal of her little slap, as if she could have possibly hurt me. I pretended to peel it off my head, roll it up in a ball, and put it in my heart. Then I gave her the puppy dog eyes again. My secret weapon had failed. I dropped my head and pretended to pout. That was when I saw the newspaper on the counter by the cash register. The headlines read Woodstock Festival, thousands trek to Max Yasgur’s farm for Three days of Peace and Music.

“Is this today’s paper?” I abruptly asked.

Sarah shrugged and replied, “It says August fifteenth right there in black and white.”

I grabbed the paper. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There on the front-page picture were possibly hundreds of people, many of them no older than me, and they all looked so happy. These were teenagers totally free from the pointed words adults cut with and simply enjoying the moment. I closed my eyes and imagined being one of those happy teens.

The clatter of the bell tied to the front door brought me back to reality. It was Jimmy. I hadn’t heard him drive up because for a moment I had been mentally transported to Woodstock. Jimmy slammed the glass door hard and without hesitation walked straight behind the counter to put his head on Sarah’s shoulder and his arms around her waist.

At first, she giggled until he lifted his head. “Jimmy,” her eyes widened at the sight of his swelled and lacerated lips below the purple and red bruise surrounding his right eye. “Your eye.” She cradled his cheek with her hand. “Was it your dad? Did he hit you again?”

Roger, Michael, and I stood in shock. I guess I’d never thought of Jimmy as a victim. Bullying and fighting the way he did, it wasn’t uncommon for him to show up with all kinds of bruises. Not once had I thought it was his father’s doing. Suddenly, with Jimmy standing there battered and bruised, I saw him in a different light. I turned away, an unsuccessful attempt to not stare. Strangely, Jimmy seemed almost human as he wiped at his cheek.

Feeling a good deal of intimidation, I turned to face him. “How long has this been going on?”

He gave me a go-to-Hell look, and I thought he might charge at me, fists flying. But Sarah grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly. We briefly made eye contact before he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I don’t know. I can’t remember when my old man didn’t hit me,” Jimmy sighed. “Usually, he only does it when he’s drunk because when he’s drunk he gets angry. This morning he had a hangover and didn’t feel good. I said the wrong thing, and he was on me.” He bit his lip. “I hate him. I really hate him.” Jimmy’s expression changed. He gritted his teeth and said, “You don’t tell anyone about this—hear me? I’ll make you wear two shiners and a fat lip.”

Roger grimaced, saying, “I ain’t telling. You can count on me.”

Wide-eyed, Michael vigorously shook his head. As I said, he had always been more afraid of Jimmy than the rest of us. Jimmy whirled around and focused on me.

Before he could speak, I held up the newspaper and said, “Looks to me like you could do with a few days of peace and music.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Loveless?” Jimmy demanded.

“Here, look for yourself.” I handed him the newspaper.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jimmy whispered as he read the article.

In a rash moment fueled by personal angst, I said, “Let’s get up a road trip.”

“We can all pile into your Mustang,” Roger added, “and be there before the festival ends.”

“What?” asked Sarah. “Just take off and not tell our parents? We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I responded. “As if they care about us.” Jimmy and I locked eyes and it might have been my imagination, but I’d like to think, for a brief span-of-time, we both understood our home lives sucked. Whatever happened in the split second our eyes met, to my mind it somehow forged an unspoken bond from an awkward friendship.

Michel stammered, “Buuut, but….”

“I’ll buy the first tank of gas,” I offered. “At thirty-five cents a gallon, it shouldn’t take over five dollars per fill-up.”

A smile, or something as close to one as Jimmy ever allowed himself, grew across his face. “Why not? Let’s do it.”

“Some of us have responsibilities, ya know,” Sarah complained, “I have to stay and watch the store. I can’t up-and-leave without notice.” Sarah pushed her flipped-out hairdo with both hands. “And, I haven’t packed or anything. No. I’m not going.”

“That’s probably for the best,” I soberly said. “Someone should be here to tell our parents we left.”

Jimmy pulled his thick, swelled lips into a grin. “I’d like to see my old man’s face when you tell him, I left town with Loveless and the Reynolds boys. He’ll be furious and he won’t have me to knock around.”

“Maybe I’ll just call to tell him the news,” Sarah thoughtfully added.

“But, no—no, no, no,” Michael blurted. “I’m not spending three days cooped up in a car with Jimmy Dugan.”

“Count me in,” said Roger in a giddy tone before he strutted around the store chanting, “road trip, road trip….”

“We better pool our bread if we’re going to do this,” Jimmy demanded and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. Roger added fifteen to his twenty, and I threw in the fifty Dad gave me to pay for my diving lessons.

“If we sleep in the car, we’ll have enough,” I said.