The Knight Brothers

07

Chapter Seven

Jordan

Fifteen years ago

After two months, I have finally discovered April's DeSoto little secret hiding place. She's been avoiding me more and more lately. Disappears for hours at a time without so much as a word.

When she resurfaces, I'll ask her where she went. She dodges. I get angry. She stomps off. I yell after her. A day later, she'll forgive me and we'll be back to normal. Until it happens all over again.

I'm sick and tired of it.

Of her ditching me.

The secrecy.

The fighting. That's not us.

So today I'm following her. She's developed somewhat of a pattern. I don't think she's even aware of it. But I am. Every Tuesday morning she'll just up and vanish. Fridays, too. And sometimes, on Saturdays, I won't see her until the afternoon. That's the one that really makes me mad.

Tastie's is open exactly three months out of the year. June, July, and August. They're closed on Sundays because the owner doesn't work on "God's day." And they're only open until noon on Saturdays. For the past three summers, every Saturday morning, April and I walk the half mile into town, wait in a long line outside the booth that's no bigger than a porta potty, and watch the old, intricate machine make fresh donut holes right before our eyes. When it's our turn, we each hand Mr. Higgins two quarters. He smiles that toothy smile of his then shakes the fried dough balls in cinnamon and sugar before filling our bags extra full.

We stuff our faces on the walk home, always promising Jon and Sam that we'll save some for them. We never do. We both figure if they want some, they can walk their asses with us. They don't.

Tastie's is a summertime staple in town. Tradition. And April is breaking it without so much as even an explanation. I've now gone the past two Saturdays without a Tastie's donut hole and I'm getting cranky. I need to find out what's so important that she's ditching our weekly ritual. And in truth, it kinda hurts my feelings she won't share whatever she's hiding. We share everything.

So this morning, at the crack of dawn, I parked myself behind the DeSoto's shed and waited. The dew still sticking to the blades of grass soaked the tops of my running socks, but it felt good as the heat and humidity had already set in.

I'm not sure how long I waited. An hour maybe. Then I saw her slink out the side door of the garage. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and she sported her usual cut-off jean shorts and one of the DeKnight tees we had made. She had a backpack strapped on and I wondered what was in it.

I watched her look around to make sure she was alone. When she was satisfied she was, she sprinted across the open plain of her backyard until the trees that ran the length of the property between our two lots swallowed up her small body.

The second her foot hits that forest floor I go after her. I keep my distance, of course. Don't want to spook her. More like I don't want to piss her off. It doesn't take much to set her off like a firecracker. It's fun to watch and I do it plenty of times on purpose, but if she spots me now, I may never find out what she's trying to hide. Every once in a while, she'll look behind her, but the trees are so dense, it's easy to duck behind one before she spots me.

For what seems like hours, we wind our way over fallen, rotted logs and around two hundred year oaks, forging deeper and deeper into the muggy, still, lush grove. We've been in this forest plenty of times. Exploring. Building stick forts. Watching the wildlife. Playing Ghost in the Graveyard or just plain hide-and-seek. Just being kids, I guess. I love it as much as she does. Know it almost as well as April. But we only ever go so far because there is an invisible line in these parts you do not cross.