Watchers

Adam Incarcerated

I saw Adam that morning as I walked to school. I noticed his ear wasn't pierced like he'd said it would be. I didn't mention it, though. I knew it would make him cranky. Maybe Troy had chickened out on him. The only thing Troy was reliable for was an occasional drive to Sloppy Soldiers. He only cared about things that helped himself. I was glad, personally, that his ear didn't have anything glittering under the molten sun on it. I couldn't really say why. For as much as I was Adam's friend, I couldn't help feeling that I had to watch out for him, too. I could yell at him all I wanted, but I rarely did because I knew he wouldn't listen.

I felt like talking, though, as long as it wasn't about him not getting pierced. I wanted to tell him what I'd seen the night before and ask him whether he might consider coming over after school to help me scrub the ketchup off my garage door. But I didn't get that chance. He started talking first.

"I want to see your half of the papers. I want to read all of it."

He said it real stubbornly, like he was expecting me to say no. "Sure. Ok." He should've known I wouldn't have cared.

Adam kept going, as if he hadn't even heard what I'd said. "You shouldn't have them. They shouldn't be split up. It's just kind of weird. Not right."

"Fine. Or I guess I could take them—"

"No. I want them. I found them, so I want them."

I might've said something about his obvious rudeness, but he didn't stop talking.

"Look, Cole. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been kind of jerky, lately. It's just . . . my mom's acting weird and all. She got more flowers, and they came when I was at school. And then she gets letters, too."

"From who?" I asked, starting to get concerned.

Adam rolled his bony shoulders back and sighed. His eyes stared dully at the ground as we walked. "I don't know. Some guy named Ted Barnes. She never lets me read them. I don't know what the letters even say."

I have to say I wasn't surprised. Not really. I mean, Adam's mom was still young, and she was pretty. Real dark hair and light skin and brown eyes. Not wrinkled or flabby or one of those moms who didn't know how to dress. And she was single. It was hardly unbelievable that she had some man after her. I actually was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. What really mattered was whether Mrs. Nyler liked him back. I didn't say any of that to Adam, though. What I said was, "If it was something important, your mom would tell you." Of course, I didn't believe that myself. My mom didn't tell me half of what was important, like how to build home-made rockets or use her credit card to buy things online.

"Whatever," was what Adam replied. I couldn't blame him. Kicking at a rock, he added, "If that guy ever comes around here, I'll shoot him."

I snorted. "Oh yeah? With what—a paintball gun?"

"That'd scare him off, at least."

He wasn't being serious; he was just letting off steam.

"Anyway, I want the stories. I want to read them. If there's one about me, I should probably have it."

"Sure. No problem." I paused. I turned slowly and scanned the street as my ears picked up the soft sound of tires scrunching on the pavement behind us. A cop car was about three yards down the road, and it was moving real slow, like it was watching us. "Hey." I lightly elbowed Adam. "Don't look now, but there's a cop behind us. In a car."

"Really? Why?"

"Why would I know?" I rolled my eyes. In a voice that was lower for some reason, I said, "Just keep walking. Don't pick up speed or he'll suspect us of something."