of shark? A sandy? A whitetip? I could win against a sandy!”
max shook his head. “Great white. Biggest badass in the ocean.”
“ Pfffffft! ” eef said. “Killer whales got it all over great whites. But anyway, I still say zombie. If it gets one bite in, it wins—the shark’s a zombie!”
“Who says sharks turn into zombies?”
“ Everything turns into zombie, max-a-million.”
“Whatever. I say shark. You know how thick sharkskin is? I was down at the dock when a trawler came in with a dead mako. ernie Pugg tried to cut it open on the dock—his fillet knife broke. like trying to hack through a tire, man. Who says a zombie’s rotted old teeth won’t break, too? And anyway, what if the shark bites the zombie’s head off? A zombie can’t swim too well, it’s rotten-ass arms flopping around.”
eef considered this. “Well, if it bites the zombie’s head off and swallows it, its head will be in the shark’s belly—and it’ll still be alive. like, zombie-alive, which is really dead but whatever. So the zombie can bite the shark’s guts out from the inside.” ephraim pumped his fist in victory. “Zombie wins! Zombie wins!”
“Ah, go to hell,” max said, conceding.
“I been to hell,” ephraim said, his voice pitched at a Clint eastwood growl. “I ain’t afraid to go back.”
Sometimes their conversation meandered quite accidentally into topics of greater importance. one night both boys were in that gauzyminded state preceding sleep when ephraim said:
“I ever tell you that my pops busted my arm? I was like one year old, man. Can’t even remember. Guess I was screaming in my crib and he comes in, all pissed, lifts me up, and my arm gets stuck between the crib bars and he kept pulling and my arm just went kerflooey. It snapped.”
He rolled over and hiked up his sleeve, showing max the pale scar below his elbow hinge.
“Bone came out right there. Anyway, he went to jail three months later. my arm was still in a cast. But here’s the weirdest thing, max. Two years ago, I went to visit him up in Summerside prison. mom came with. We’re sitting in the visitor’s room, the chairs and tables bolted down, TV in a big mesh cage. Dad’s not saying much—he never does, right?—but he looks at my arm and sees the scar and asks how I got it. like, he thought I did it to myself.” A stiff, barking laugh. “So mom goes: You did it, Fred. You broke his arm as a baby. And my dad just gives her this shocked look. I’m telling you, max, I swear to God he didn’t remember. like, there’s this empty slot in his head where that memory should be. maybe he even remembers my arm in a cast but he doesn’t quite remember how it happened, right? For all I know his memory’s full of holes like that, just Swiss-cheesed with ’em, which is why he’s in jail. He can’t remember any of the shitty stuff he does—his mind erases it, so he just goes and does it all over again.”
In such ways friendships are built. In tiny moments, in secrets shared. The boys truly believed they would be best friends forever—in fact, as the boat had ferried them to Falstaff Island, max had looked at the back of ephraim’s head and thought exactly that:
Forever friends, man. Until the very end of time.
THe sKY was scudded over with clouds by the time the boys shouldered their packs and made their way to the trailhead. They walked in the same order as always: Kent heading up the pack—recently Kent had even tried to break trail ahead of the Scoutmaster—then ephraim, Shelley, and newt. max pulled up the rear in his traditional sheepherding role.
once they’d passed beyond sight of the cabin, Kent waved max up. “You better give me the walkie-talkie,” he said, dead serious. It wasn’t worth fighting over—Kent might turn it into a fight. But
Kent wouldn’t throw punches. Wasn’t his style. He’d put max in a headlock and wrestle him down and simply take the walkie-talkie away. or worse, make max give it to him
max shook his head. “Great white. Biggest badass in the ocean.”
“ Pfffffft! ” eef said. “Killer whales got it all over great whites. But anyway, I still say zombie. If it gets one bite in, it wins—the shark’s a zombie!”
“Who says sharks turn into zombies?”
“ Everything turns into zombie, max-a-million.”
“Whatever. I say shark. You know how thick sharkskin is? I was down at the dock when a trawler came in with a dead mako. ernie Pugg tried to cut it open on the dock—his fillet knife broke. like trying to hack through a tire, man. Who says a zombie’s rotted old teeth won’t break, too? And anyway, what if the shark bites the zombie’s head off? A zombie can’t swim too well, it’s rotten-ass arms flopping around.”
eef considered this. “Well, if it bites the zombie’s head off and swallows it, its head will be in the shark’s belly—and it’ll still be alive. like, zombie-alive, which is really dead but whatever. So the zombie can bite the shark’s guts out from the inside.” ephraim pumped his fist in victory. “Zombie wins! Zombie wins!”
“Ah, go to hell,” max said, conceding.
“I been to hell,” ephraim said, his voice pitched at a Clint eastwood growl. “I ain’t afraid to go back.”
Sometimes their conversation meandered quite accidentally into topics of greater importance. one night both boys were in that gauzyminded state preceding sleep when ephraim said:
“I ever tell you that my pops busted my arm? I was like one year old, man. Can’t even remember. Guess I was screaming in my crib and he comes in, all pissed, lifts me up, and my arm gets stuck between the crib bars and he kept pulling and my arm just went kerflooey. It snapped.”
He rolled over and hiked up his sleeve, showing max the pale scar below his elbow hinge.
“Bone came out right there. Anyway, he went to jail three months later. my arm was still in a cast. But here’s the weirdest thing, max. Two years ago, I went to visit him up in Summerside prison. mom came with. We’re sitting in the visitor’s room, the chairs and tables bolted down, TV in a big mesh cage. Dad’s not saying much—he never does, right?—but he looks at my arm and sees the scar and asks how I got it. like, he thought I did it to myself.” A stiff, barking laugh. “So mom goes: You did it, Fred. You broke his arm as a baby. And my dad just gives her this shocked look. I’m telling you, max, I swear to God he didn’t remember. like, there’s this empty slot in his head where that memory should be. maybe he even remembers my arm in a cast but he doesn’t quite remember how it happened, right? For all I know his memory’s full of holes like that, just Swiss-cheesed with ’em, which is why he’s in jail. He can’t remember any of the shitty stuff he does—his mind erases it, so he just goes and does it all over again.”
In such ways friendships are built. In tiny moments, in secrets shared. The boys truly believed they would be best friends forever—in fact, as the boat had ferried them to Falstaff Island, max had looked at the back of ephraim’s head and thought exactly that:
Forever friends, man. Until the very end of time.
THe sKY was scudded over with clouds by the time the boys shouldered their packs and made their way to the trailhead. They walked in the same order as always: Kent heading up the pack—recently Kent had even tried to break trail ahead of the Scoutmaster—then ephraim, Shelley, and newt. max pulled up the rear in his traditional sheepherding role.
once they’d passed beyond sight of the cabin, Kent waved max up. “You better give me the walkie-talkie,” he said, dead serious. It wasn’t worth fighting over—Kent might turn it into a fight. But
Kent wouldn’t throw punches. Wasn’t his style. He’d put max in a headlock and wrestle him down and simply take the walkie-talkie away. or worse, make max give it to him
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