Cicada Summer by Jeff Dosser

Author:Jeff Dosser
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2018-04-28T11:02:02+00:00

Chapter Four

“Hey, Matt, nice tackle during the scrimmage,” Matt’s best friend, Lane, called as they sauntered out of the Thunderbird Falls High locker room. “For a pussy that is.”

Matt laughed shaking his head. “Well, if anyone knows about being a pussy it would be you.” He dragged out a fistful of keys and jingled through the ring until he found the one to his new car. “So where we goin’ to eat?”

Lane opened the passenger door of Matt’s ’89 Thunderbird and tossed in his workout bag. Matt purchased the ten-year-old muscle car at the start of senior year after scrimping every bit of his summer work money. He kept the old gal’s chipped paint waxed to an ivory sheen. “Someplace cheap,” Lane said. “I only got five bucks.”

Matt leaned across the top of the Ford, his lips twisted into a wry expression of consideration. “How ’bout Poncho’s Mexican? Thursday is all you can eat taco night.” He dropped into the driver’s seat and keyed the ignition. The 3.8-liter engine surged to life with a throaty roar. “My mom gave me a twenty for food, I’ll spot you.”

“Now you’re talkin’.” Lane thumped the roof and hopped in.

In less than half an hour, Matt was up to his elbows in cheap tacos, watery salsa, and debate about the bodily merits of the cheer squad girls.

“Hey, I gotta check in with my mom,” he said after a quick check of his watch. He pushed away from the table and brushed a wrist across his mouth. “She went to the lake but wanted me home by six.”

“Sure thing,” Lane mumbled over a mouthful of tortillas.

Matt legged his way to the front counter and plunked a quarter into the pay phone. He dialed the number for home, the phone buzzing on the other end.

“Hello?”

Matt pulled the phone away and squinted at the receiver as if he could see the person on the other end. “Grandma Mags?”

“Oh, Matthew. I’ve been waiting for you to get home.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Bubbie, you need to come home right away.” Only his mom or Grandma Mags ever called him Bubbie. A childhood nickname they only used when bad news was on the horizon.

“What’s going on, Gran?”

“Just come home. We’ll talk when you get here.”

Matt’s ears began to burn, his chest growing suddenly tight. “No! Grandma, I’m not a kid anymore. Tell me what’s going on.”

There was a long pause.

“Gran…you still there?”

“Yes, baby. I’m still here. And you’re right. You’re not my little Bubbie anymore. You’ve growing into a handsome, young man.”

There was another long pause. Matt thought he heard sniffling on the other end. Then, in a broken voice, his grandmother said, “Your mother’s had an accident at the lake.”

“Whad’ya mean an accident?”

“Matt, baby. Your mother was racing Andrew across the lake on her jet ski when she fell off. Andrew said she was wearing a life vest but she went right under. The lake patrol’s been searching for hours. Now I need you to come home.”

Matt hardly remembered the next few days.

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