Late afternoon on the first day of vacation. Fred Hamilton and I are sitting on the shaded side of the 7-11, drinking Slurpees and eating ice cream sandwiches-scraping the chalky chocolate part off the wax paper wrapper. We're counting the number of convertibles:

Fred:That's four!
me: No way, that's only three, Bugs don't count!
This goes on for a while.

Fred tells me his list of things he has to do this summer, I tell him mine. Going on the Killer Ninja rollercoaster with hands up, the whole way is on both lists. Learning how to play golf is only on mine, on account of my dad.

We laugh at two kids we know who are standing across the street at the video game store. Fred and I call 'em the new jerks on the block, 'cause they just moved up to high school from J.H. and they think they're all that. Big whoop.

Fred yells: Hey coolness, where's your momma's minivan?!!

They act like they don't hear us, since they are trying to look like they're just hanging out. When the mom does come they will run to the parking lot next door and jump in like armed bandits. What a joke.

We decide to walk home and we kick an empty beer can back and forth on the way home, hockey style. I do the play by play

:Thomas, down the boards to Sundin, back to Thomas, he shoots...he SCORES!

We run through the sprinklers on Hall street and then cut through an alley so we can knock Mrs.Peterson's trash cans over, 'cause she stiffed us at Halloween-that witch.

Fred waves and takes a left to his house and I head right to mine. The sun is slicing between the trees on my street and all the porch lights are starting to come on. A bunch of dogs start to bark for no reason as I hop up the steps and I can hear the crickets-screaming. Teenagers with new licenses are stretching out their stereos in the twilight. I turn around to take another whiff of the fresh cut grass and the barbecue in the distance:

Yep, summer is coming on, and everyday will last past dark now.

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