I sat on the bank across from the garage with Jack on one side of me and a pile of rocks on the other. I’d discovered the chalky ones burst if you threw them hard enough. “Okay,” I said, picking up one that was lemon-shaped, “here goes an M26.” Pretending to ignite a grenade, I hurled the rock against the garage roof and watched it explode into a million pieces. They rolled down the shingles, dropping from the garage like hail.
My arm was cocked for another attack when I heard the station wagon revving up the hill. Finally. I wanted to show Dad the arrowheads but more important, I had to talk to him about going over to Prater’s.
While our TV dinners were in the oven, I parked myself beside Dad on the couch. He lowered the newspaper. I held open my palm. “Look what I found today.”
He leaned over, picked one up, and stared at it. “Let me see the other one.” When I gave it to him, he looked at them so hard, I thought he was X-raying them. Then he turned to me with an amazed expression. “These are arrowheads!”
“That’s what I thought!” So far, so good. It wasn’t like I was going to lie to Dad about anything, but I knew I was warming up for the big question. When I was younger, other boys shot at each other with cap guns, but not me. I wasn’t even allowed to own a squirt gun.
“Guns are not toys,” he’d always say whenever I begged for one.
“Yes, they are,” I’d whine. Mom and I passed them in the grocery store, for crying out loud. I’d tug on her hand, plead, and still she’d shake her head. Your dad said no.
I wondered what he’d say tonight. I wondered all through my mashed potatoes and sick-looking peas. The steak was as hard to chew as leather, so I moved on to my apple turnover compartment.
“Nothing like a gourmet dinner,” Dad said. He’d eaten two of them. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make, okay?” He pushed back his chair.
“Wait.” I swallowed and looked at the steak. I’d give it to Jack later. “Um, you know those boys I met? The ones playing basketball the other day?”
He smiled, ready for good news.
“Well, I saw them today and they invited me to come over after supper.”
“That’s great!” He relaxed in his chair. “I’m glad you’re making friends. What are you guys going to do?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “They want to shoot targets. Prater’s dad will be there,” I added quickly.
Dad frowned.
“His dad will be there,” I said again.
Staring at his folded hands, Dad mulled it over, then stood. “What’s his name again?” I told him, and he went straight to the phone book. He called a few Praters before landing on the right one. After introducing himself, he made some small talk with Mr. Prater, then started asking questions. “What kind of guns? What kind of targets? How much experience do the other boys have?” I cringed in my chair. “Where will they be shooting?” Okay, I was officially overprotected. I just hoped Prater didn’t get wind of this or I’d have to listen to more of his wisecracks.
I cleared the table while Dad said good-bye. Pretending to be busy by sliding our chairs back into place, I waited for his answer. Dad grabbed the dishrag, soaped it up, and wiped down the counter.
“Look at me.” Dad turned from the sink. White soap bubbles glistened on his hands, but there was no mistaking that a US serviceman stood before me.
I straightened my posture and gave him my full attention.
“You can go.”
“I can? All right!” I headed for the back door, but Dad caught me by the arm.
“Listen,” he said, his eyes dead serious, “I’m letting you go because I trust you.” He lowered his chin before going on. “A gun is a weapon; I want you to respect that. No playing around, okay?”
“Yessir,” I said. He’d fought in the Korean War. This was a big deal for both of us.
“Okay,” he said and gave me a sharp nod—dismissed.
Jack and I waited for Ray on the front porch steps. I wondered what it would be like to shoot a gun. Soldiers fired guns all the time, but their lives depended on it. Plus, they trained with guns. I’d never held a gun before, much less shot one. The main thing was to not mess up in front of Prater. No way did I want to give him another thing to rag on me about.
Suddenly, Jack stood erect, and he focused on the bottom of the hill. Ray came pedaling up the road. I waved. This is how it starts, a friendship.
He cut over to his right, like he was going into Mr. and Mrs. Nichols’s driveway. I almost shouted to correct him, but then he turned and cut over to the opposite side. He zigzagged all the way up the hill; it was ingenious—he never had to get off his bike.
“Hi, Ray!” I jumped down the porch steps to meet him.
“Hiya.” Ray’s face was pink from the ride. He laid down his bike and looked around. “Hey, I was right,” he said. “I knew your woods and Alan’s woods were connected.”
“Really?” Great—Prater was my neighbor.
“Yeah, if you cut through your woods that way”—he pointed to the right—“you’ll end up by his yard. I mean, it’s like a few blocks over; the woods are really big.”
“Oh.” As long as I didn’t have to see that jerk from my backyard.
“Where’s Jack? I thought I saw him,” Ray asked.
Jack had been right at my side on the steps; I leaped onto the porch and found him around the corner. He seemed relieved when he saw me. I bent down and stroked his head. “C’mon, Jack, it’s all right.” I tried to lead him out, but he balked. He looked up at me like he wanted me to stay.
“It’s all right, Jack, he’s nice.” I rubbed his back. “C’mon, boy,” I said. “Come on.”
Jack rose slowly and walked with his tail drooping. He followed me down the steps but stopped just short of being near Ray. He held his head straight. It wasn’t like he was afraid of Ray; it was more like he was being careful. “He just has to get to know you,” I said.
Without moving closer, Ray crouched and held his hand out—not stretching his arm all the way, just holding it out a little. “C’mere, Jack.” He waited. When Jack didn’t come, Ray moved a little closer and touched Jack’s head, scratching him lightly behind the ear.
I could see Ray was a dog person. I could also see that although Jack allowed Ray to pet him, Jack was actually inspecting Ray to see if he was a good person or not.
Ray must have passed the test because Jack relaxed; he looked like he was enjoying the petting.
When I put Jack in the house, Dad looked up from some paperwork near the phone. “You be careful.”
“I will.” Jack pushed behind my knee, almost making me fall. Dad kept his eyes on me. “Don’t worry,” I said, but I knew it was useless. Dad looked like he wanted to hug me. I pushed open the screen door and yelled good-bye.
“Have fun,” I heard him shout as I lifted the garage door for my bike. “But be careful!”
I winced at his loud caution, hoping Ray didn’t hear him. After I closed up the garage, I hopped on my bike and sped out of there, hollering to Ray as I neared the porch. Please don’t let Dad come bursting out the front yelling more warnings. He’d hammered Mr. Prater with all those questions, and plus it was just target shooting. Nothing to worry about. Ray joined me as I turned down the hill.
Nothing to worry about at all.