#3 The Option by Herman Brown

Author:Herman Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

Surprisingly, the smoothie boosted my spirits quite a lot. I decided to go over and help Devon clean up his parents’ house. After that party, he’d need the help. And maybe doing something positive would help me feel better about myself.

“Yo,” Devon said when I came in. “Here he is: UFC champion Gary Jayo!”

“Very funny,” I tried to say, but it came out ggh-ghee huggee.

“Take it easy, Jayo. I’ll do the talking, OK?”

We grabbed black lawn bags from the garage and started filling them with cans, bottles, boxes, chip bags, fast food wrappers, and whatever else looked like it didn’t belong there. And Devon did do the talking.

“You hear about the chicken coop?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“After Shane left here, I guess he went tearing around the streets for a while. Just laying down rubber. Then out into the country. Scary, man.”

I nodded.

“So he’s out west of town, past the Conoco, past the corn fields, way out by Higby’s place. You know that old guy, Higby?”

I nodded. He was a kooky old chicken farmer who once brought his shotgun to a game. He got a little mixed up about where he was sometimes.

“Well, Shane gets it in his head he’s going to do some damage. Wreck something, you know? So he ran off the road and across Higby’s field and plowed right through one of Higby’s chicken coops. Pow! Feathers everywhere. Wood and nails and eggs flying through the air. Shane tries to keep going, but he gets stuck in the mud.”

“Ghaing!” I said. Dang!

“I know, right? Well don’t worry.”

I looked at him like, What?

“He called Coach Z, and Coach came to get him and talked Higby out of shooting him or calling the cops or anything. That’s what I heard, anyway. From Orlando, who heard it from Shane. Sounds like it’s all taken care of.”

“Kaken kay augh?”

“Yeah, taken care of,” Devon said. “They pulled his Chevy out of the mud and towed it home. Shane’s sleeping it off now, I guess. When he wakes up, it’s life as usual.” Devon looked at his watch. “Assuming he makes it to practice. Lucky sucker.”

Devon and I piled our garbage bags by the back door. He started squirting glass cleaner on the counters, tables, and linoleum floor. We each grabbed a wad of paper towels and started wiping.

Lucky sucker, I thought.

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