Page 14 of Black Waters

I looked at the seventeen-year-old like he was crazy while I treaded water in the lake. “I ran out of air down there. Why else?” I had been under the surface for longer than normal.

“Relax when you’re below.”

“Uh… Huh?”

Tim chuckled as he treaded. “If you’re calm, you can do anything.”

“Uh… Huh?”

“If you settle, your heart doesn’t beat so fast, and your mind is free. Therefore, you don’t need as much air. Enjoy and listen…”

Just then, Whitney came running out their home’s back door like a bullet, relieving me of Tim’s boring babble. “I’m done with my homework!” she happily screamed. I couldn’t help watching her head toward me. Lately, her in a bikini was becoming my favorite sight.

Water splashed into my face. “Earth to Reether.”

I wiped my eyes, agitated my focus had been redirected. “What?”

Tim smirked. “Whatcha doing, sport?”

I realized I had been caught checking out his sister and turned away from the redhead running down her dock so I could force myself to stop staring.

“Oh, shit, Sport. You got it bad!”

“Shut up!”

Tim laughed at me with no restraint whatsoever.

Splash! When Whit resurfaced, her voice was vibrant. “Timothy, did Reether tell you?”

“No, Little T. Talk t’ me.”

“That guy I told you about, Jack? The one who said I was a bitch because I wouldn’t sit with him at lunch?”

Tim growled. That had me smirking and turning back to face them ’cause I knew he would like this story.

Whit smiled at me, saying to her brother, “Reether glued his locker shut and wrote, ‘I hate this school,’ on it.”

“Child’s play.” Tim didn’t look impressed in the slightest.

Whit mischievously grinned. “Link ALSO wrote for our principal to go to H. E. L. L. and signed Jack’s name after studying his handwriting on a behavior slip. Jack was suspended for three days.”

Tim busted out laughing. “Now you’re talking! Prick had it coming.” He pointed between us. “You two stay tight, and you’ll be strong, only as weak as your weakest link.”

Whitney laughed. “The way Reether loses control when someone messes with me makes him the weakest link. Don’t ya think?”

“Nah, Little T., Reether here is your strongest link.” He bitched slapped my cheek. “Ain’t that right, Linky boy?”

When I was twelve, Tim bored me to death at times, but he was truly the smartest kid I knew. When I was seventeen, I realized he had been well beyond his years.

“I had a brother.” Crash shocked me with his words when I hadn’t answered him. I guess my expression told him as much. He nodded. “Yeah, he was ten years older than me.” He pointed to his jugular that read, “Life 1982.” He pointed to the back of his neck. Along his spine was “Death 1995.”

Oh, shit.

“He was thirteen. I was three when—” Crash stopped talking.

I take that back. To say Crash stopped talking would rob him of the visible emotion he choked on, an emotion that gave me a view inside Crash—not the drug dealer—but the human soul.

After some silence, Crash spoke again. “I was three when my idol was gunned down.” He took a deep breath as if searching for courage to continue. “Hot cocoa. I asked for a hot cocoa and got my brother killed. We were in Russia, and there was a little stand selling something that my brother said resembled hot cocoa… and now my brother’s dead.”