Jack Erikson was having a particularly nice dream. Predictably, it involved a bed and Vixen wearing about as much in the way of clothes as she’d worn swimming out at the pond the day before. The alarm going off in his ear ruined that; he slapped the snooze button, but the dream was already fading. Shit, there was no chance of getting it back, either.

Oh, well, it was most likely going to happen and not too far off in the future, either. They’d have done it already, except that he and Vixen had agreed to hold off until after she’d had a full cycle on her birth control pills, which meant that he was looking at sometime around the middle of next month. He figured he could wait that long if he had to.

Nothing to do but get moving, he thought, throwing the covers back and sitting up, his mind still not all the way under power. Unlike most teenagers, Jack was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise type, which was a good thing to be if you wanted to get out early to watch birds. After the late night out at the little pond east of town the night before and what he had to do this morning, he figured that an extra hour or two wouldn’t hurt anything.

He and his friends had enjoyed a good evening out at the pond, if doing nothing in particular but roasting hot dogs, sitting around a campfire and talking, and more skinny-dipping. It had been so enjoyable, though, that time just got away from them. It was late when he got home after dropping everyone off, very late indeed for him; even the Frostee Freeze was closed when he went by it after dropping Summer off. It had gone even later than that, close to midnight, since the last person he dropped off was Vixen, and they’d spent a bit of time parked in her driveway getting personal, something he’d really enjoyed.

Well, shit, he thought. Nothing much to do but to get up and do it. Still in his underwear, he went out to the phone in the hall and called Vixen. Her mother Marilyn answered the phone, but said that Vixen was up and in the shower. “Fine,” he told her. “That’s what I’m about to do myself. Tell her that I’ll pick her up in half an hour.”

“I think she’ll be ready,” Mrs. Hvalchek replied.

“Good,” Jack replied. “We’re still going to be cutting it pretty close.”

Jack headed on to the bathroom to do his morning routine, still trying to organize the day in his mind. In spite of his age, he was considered the most active and knowledgeable bird watcher in town, and earlier in the week Candice Archer down at Spearfish Lake Outfitters had talked him into teaching a beginning birding class this morning. It had been a damn good thing, too; what he’d gotten out of it in exchange had kept him and Vixen from being beaten black and blue. Once again a smile crossed his face at the thought that Frenchy was going to be on ice for the next seven months. Good place for him, too; if anyone deserved it, Frenchy did.

Turning his mind off of his satisfaction with the situation, Jack tried to get it back on plans for the day. The class would probably run to about noon; by then it would be getting hot and while there would most likely be bird activity, it might well be too hot to enjoy watching it.

Once again he thought about what he was going to be teaching. He really hadn’t thought about it much; Mrs. Archer had said that it was a little group that got together to pick up various outdoor skills. She and her sister-in-law Tiffany, who actually owned the store, had been running out of ideas for new things to bring to the group. Jack had no idea how large the group was, but he’d have Vixen along to help if needed. He’d wanted to talk it over with Vixen the day before, but somehow the topic kept drifting to other things. He figured there wasn’t much that could be taught in a classroom anyway, not that the Spearfish Lake Outfitters store was much of a classroom.

Maybe a few minutes of discussion about what to look for and how to be quiet and inconspicuous to birds, and they could caravan out to someplace like the backside of the Point, which while not his favorite bird watching spot would be a good place to take beginners. That was where he’d taken Vixen on her first bird watching trip. It was plenty open, but with good shade and cover. Maybe they’d even manage to catch a few early season migrants.

On the other hand, maybe the backside of the Point wasn’t all that good a place. Oh, the bird watching would be good enough, but when he and Vixen had been out there the week before they’d found a body – one of their teachers, Mr. Ordway, in fact. That left the place with some bad memories that he’d rather not dredge up right now, and he suspected Vixen wouldn’t either. Besides, someone was sure to ask about it, and that would get the topic away from birds to something that Jack didn’t want to talk about all that much.

So someplace else, and it had to be someplace else close by. One of the parks, maybe? He thought about it for a moment and rejected it – there were junior soccer leagues on Saturday morning at the best spot in town, and damn few birds would be there to get watched with those kids running around and raising hell. His best and most favorite spot, where he and Vixen had had a memorable morning of bird watching the previous Sunday, was way the hell and gone out on the old railroad grade through the swamp. It was narrow and the road was rough, so it wasn’t a good place to take two wheel drive cars.

Well, there was a spot down on the river, about a mile or so above the state road bridge on a side road that some people used as a short cut into town. Getting into the place involved another two-rut, not a bad one and not very long. There might be a shore fisherman or two hanging around there, but there might not be, too. It wasn’t as open as out behind the Point but the activity was almost as good. It was only a couple miles out of town if they went out the gravel road, and if someone objected to taking the gravel it was only a couple miles farther to go out there the long way around. Yeah, he thought. That would work.

Better grab some breakfast before I head over there, he thought as he started to pull on his clothes. It was possible that Mrs. Archer would have coffee and doughnuts there for the group, but maybe not. On the other hand, if Vixen was ready to go there was no reason they couldn’t stop at the doughnut shop on the way over to Spearfish Lake Outfitters.

In spite of having to work an hour and a half cleaning up after the Frosty Freeze closed the night before, Ashley Keilhorn was up and running. There was a lot that had happened at the teen hangout. The news that Mrs. Wine was going to be the new principal and the news that Eddie Awkerman was going to be hosting the pre-season football beer bust in place of Frenchy had pretty well led the topics of discussion. But even though it had been the talk of the parking lot, there were a lot of people she talked to who hadn’t been there, so there was still news to be spread. The chances were good that someone who hadn’t been at the Frostee Freeze might well have something new, too.

She hadn’t seen Laurel there, not surprisingly – it appeared she’d been delivering pizza, so presumably she hadn’t heard about it, although she often picked up news on her deliveries. Heather, another one of her regulars, had apparently been out on a date; she dated a basketball player who didn’t play football, so likely would be sleeping late. There was no point in calling her this early. For that matter, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to call Laurel this early, either.

But Lyle – it would be fun to talk to Lyle, especially after the good afternoon they’d had together the day before. They hadn’t actually worked out a time to get together to head down to Camden, but it had to be pretty early since she had to work at the Frostee Freeze this evening, too. It didn’t take much to decide to call him and tack that down. It only took a few button punches on her cell phone with the vague thought that she really ought to put his number on the auto-dialer to have him on the phone. “So, big guy,” she said, “what’s happening with you today?”

“Not much,” he replied. “Mrs. Wine called this morning and told me I didn’t have to come over to help with practice, so I’m just hanging around with a book in my hand until we can get together. Any idea what time?”

“I’m not real sure,” Ashley said. “I was going to take a look in the Camden Press and see what time the matinees started, but I didn’t think to do it when I came in last night.”

“I did,” Lyle said. “The first ones at the Multiplex start at noon, but they’re pretty much kiddie stuff. There’s a chick flick starting at 12:30, I don’t remember the name. There are three or four more possibilities that start in the next half hour. I’d say we ought to be there a little after noon so we can pick and choose.”

“If we can get an early movie and it’s a short one, we might be able to squeeze in a second show,” she suggested. “I need to be back by 5:30 so I can change and get over to the Frostee Freeze, though.”

“We’ll just have to see what happens,” he said. “How about I pick you up about eleven? That’ll give us a little margin to work with.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. It still seemed incredible that she would be going out on an honest to God date, even with Lyle! That offered all sorts of possibilities! She hadn’t kissed him goodbye the afternoon before – it hadn’t seemed like quite the right thing to do under the circumstances – but unless things really went badly she’d be kissing him when they got back tonight. Who knew what could come after that, and fairly quickly too. She could almost feel his hands on her body . . .

“So what happened at the Frostee Freeze last night?” he asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Oh, the football crowd was all full of shit about how they’re going to be having their beer bust tonight,” she sighed. “It was really pretty sickening, and all too many of them were ready to rub everybody else’s noses in it. Alison DuQuoin really pissed me off to start off with, and it got worse from there.”

“It absolutely amazes me how in hell they can get away with that stuff,” he replied. “I mean, that shit has gone on year after year, and nobody ever does anything about it. I mean, it’s not like it’s a big secret. Why don’t the cops do something about it?”

“Maybe they don’t know,” Ashley said, remembering her temptation to call the cops after Alison got in her face the night before. “Maybe nobody tells them.”

“I’ll tell you what, I wish somebody would tell them. Maybe those assholes would get taken down a notch or two. I mean, you and I are members of the class too, and we get treated like shit and kicked around by those bastards, and they get away with everything.”

“Shit, I know just what you mean,” she said. “I mean, having Mrs. Wine as principal ought to change things around the school some, but those jokers will assume that they’re still going to get away with everything, just because they play football.”

“Well, that’s the way things work around here,” he sighed. “Like I told you yesterday, the good part about it is that in a year we won’t have to worry about it, since we’ll be out of here.”

“There is that,” she said, thinking that there was that deadline lying there if she could manage to make things work with Lyle. Win or lose, most likely it was going to be over with or close to it this time next year, and whatever happened after that she’d have to start from scratch again. Talking with Lyle yesterday had reinforced her thoughts about going to college. The good kids, the catches, were going to be leaving next year with him. The ones who stayed behind would be the guys who threw their weight around playing football and bullying people, and if she stayed around she might have a chance with one or another of them, say someone like Eddie Awkerman who didn’t appear to be heading to college. But even though a quick fling with someone like Eddie might be fun, he was nothing to make a life with. There was a chance, a slim chance, that she might be able to work out something with Lyle that could survive college, and he was a hell of a lot nicer guy by accident than Eddie would ever be on purpose. “But it would still be nice to have our last year be a good one.”

“Yeah, it would,” he said, “but I’m not real hopeful about it.”

They talked for a few more minutes while Ashley turned it over in her mind. Yeah, it would be nice to take those guys down a notch or two, and it might make life around school a little better if it happened. And if it happened, the chances of developing something with Lyle might be a little better. Finally, she made up her mind. “Hey, big guy,” she said, “I’ve got some stuff to do before you pick me up for our date. I’ll see you about eleven.”

“Works for me,” he said. “See you then.”

Ashley flicked off the phone and ran it through her mind one more time. She’d pretty well made up her mind to do it when Alison got in her face the night before, but she’d had some doubts about it. No more. She flicked the phone on again and began to punch out another number.

Partway across town Alan Jahnke was also awake. Well, not very awake; he’d gone as late as the rest of those the night before, but he’d realized that he didn’t want to screw his sleep schedule up too much. While they were sitting around the pond the night before, he and Summer had made up their minds to get together in the morning and work on the role playing game they’d been trying to develop for the last few days. They’d made some good progress on it, and if they could get it all together it had the possibility of being a good game. It involved witches and pagans in the middle ages being the good guys, fighting off church inquisitors. There were plenty of magic powers involved, along with torture chambers and burnings at the stake.

They’d talked about the game a little with Jack and Vixen the day before. Jack and Vixen weren’t gamers, although they’d agreed it might be fun to screw around with it sometime in the winter when the weather was too lousy to go out looking for birds. The problem that he and Summer had started to see developing was that it was going to take more people to play it than they had available, even with Jack and Vixen involved. If they could have six, eight, even ten people who were even moderately into gaming an afternoon in the still-unnamed game was pretty clearly going to be a hell of a ball.

The problem was that they didn’t know who those other people might be. Out at the pond they’d thrown around the names of a few people who might like to get involved with a full play of the game, none of them football players of course, but no approaches had been made to anyone. Though Alan had enjoyed hanging out with Jack, Vixen and Summer the last few days, he’d never had a lot of friends. He’d been more interested in his studies, and was probably among the finalists to be valedictorian when the grades were averaged in the spring. Like happens in a lot of schools, good students weren’t necessarily appreciated by their fellows, especially if they weren’t athletes. As a result, he’d mostly been a loner, filling his time working on math, which he was especially good at; computers, which he was very good with; and avoiding bullies, especially football players, not always with success. The new group that had coalesced with Jack, Vixen, Summer, and him over the last few days had made a whole new world for him.

He’d had friends online, good friends if pretty anonymous, and that had kept him going over some lonely times. One of the very few down sides about heading out to the pond yesterday was that he’d ignored some of the things that had happened online, especially e-mail and a couple of chat rooms. At this hour the chat rooms were likely to be mostly empty, but there were a few messages in his e-mail inbox that needed to be dealt with. He figured he’d better respond to those before he got together with Summer and got to thinking about the game – and a few other things that he couldn’t help but think about when he was around Summer. Those included those nicely rounded boobs that he’d had such a good look at – and occasionally a feel of, the night before. The chances seemed good that the two of them would be enjoying even closer contact in the not far distant future. He was really – really – looking forward to the day that happened; it would have seemed to be an impossible dream not long before. It was incredible to even think about the things they had already shared!

The e-mails took a little while to deal with, not too much time – there was nothing really important there. Since Summer had her own car and Alan didn’t, it was pretty much up to her when she showed up, although he hoped it wouldn’t be much longer. With his folks home they couldn’t be too cuddly, but at least that would make them work on the game a little more than if they were alone.

So with some time to kill he decided to hit a few web sites and message boards. A check of the weather showed that it was likely to stay hot at least through the weekend, although there was some hope of it cooling off along in the week, maybe even a thunderstorm. Nothing particularly earth-shattering was happening on the news, and even a couple of the message boards he frequented were lackluster.

All of a sudden a box popped up on the computer screen: “You have new mail!” From the information in the box he could see that it was a new post on the Spearfish Lake message board that he’d set up one night when he couldn’t think of anything better to do. It was about as anonymous as could be, and was even on a free server at the expense of a few rather obnoxious advertisements. No one – not even Summer – knew that he was the administrator. It got few messages, but the week before there had been one on it that had given him particular satisfaction.

With that thought in mind it was only a couple of mouse clicks to get onto the message board. Sure enough, there was a new message: “We’re going to have the football pre-practice beer bust after all. Eddie Awkerman came up with the beer! The party starts about dark tonight about a quarter mile up a two-rut to the right a little more than a mile up 417 from the Albany River bridge. Football players or cheerleaders only. Let’s party hearty!”

Shit, Alan thought. Those fuckers sure want to rub everyone’s noses in it, don’t they? It seemed pretty damn ballsy to advertise an illegal, underage beer bust on the Internet! They must think that even if everybody knows about it the cops still won’t do anything! He took a quick look at the particulars – the username on the message was “hardhitter” and a quick look at the underlying e-mail address showed it was an obvious fake, too. There were some disadvantages to having an anonymous free server, and no damn security whatever was one of them, Alan thought.

He sat there staring at the message, getting madder every second. The goddamn football players in this town think they can get away with just about anything. It sure as hell would be nice to fuck up their party, but probably nobody would. Well, the cops might, he thought. A week ago he’d thought the cops were pretty damn useless, but after some dinking around they’d come through, or Frenchy wouldn’t be playing with his dick over in the county jail right now. Did they know about this party?

The more he thought about it, the more he thought that letting the cops know would sort of be a violation of the teenage code of conduct, to not rat out what anyone else was doing. Well, that hadn’t kept Frenchy and his buddies from beating him up, had it? The fuckers . . . he made up his mind, and he had Chief Wexler’s cell phone number as a result of the hassles earlier in the week. Maybe, just maybe, he could pay back some of those bastards . . .

He didn’t know he wouldn’t be the first to call the chief that morning. Ashley Keilhorn had been among others to have already beaten him to it.

Spearfish Lake Police Chief Charlie Wexler was off duty, or at least as off duty as a small town police chief ever gets. Even off duty, there was a responsibility to keep an eye on things, and that meant he could probably avoid mowing the lawn this morning. It didn’t really need it that bad, he thought. The grass was still pretty short and brown due to the lack of rain recently, but there were weeds sticking up and looking unsightly. It wouldn’t do to have his lawn looking like a mess, he thought as he dialed the phone. Maybe tomorrow he could find an hour or so to put some in time at it. The phone rang once, twice, and then he heard someone pick it up and say, “Hello?”

“Hi, Steve, it’s Charlie,” he said. “How are you today?”

“Too damn early to tell,” Sheriff Steve Stoneslinger replied. “What you got on your mind?”

“You know about that little shindig we were talking about over lunch yesterday?” Charlie said. “Apparently it’s still on. I’ve had four calls on it already, two from parents. I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple myself,” the sheriff replied. “We need to talk someplace where we can’t be overheard.”

“How about over at my shop?” Charlie offered. “We’ll be the only ones around. I’ve only got a part-timer on right now, and he’ll be out on patrol someplace.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stoneslinger replied. “I’ll stop off and get some doughnuts if you want to get the coffee going.”

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.