The Last Summer. Chan Howell
advised us not to do anything stupid. Wyatt despised him. Wyatt assumed Dale was one of the many reasons he found himself in detention. Dale was just responsible and knew how to fly under the radar since his parents were chasing a set of toddler twins, his autistic sister, seven- and nine-year-old girls, and his defiant five-year-old brother.
Ronnie attended most of the games, but he was always late and usually only had at least one of the other Rutledge kids in tow. Dale could drive a zero-turn John Deere mower before he was ten years old. When he was not at school or on a baseball field, he was with his dad. He sat at the counter with all the old men in town when eating lunch at the Dixie Grill. He woke early to spend the day with his dad, and baseball seemed like a nuisance if his dad still had yards to mow.
Dale, Ogre, RJ, and Mitch ran after the car and nearly beat us to my grandmother’s house. They all knew my grandmother would offer them some type of treat. She was well-known by all the folks in town for giving out goodies. Everyone called her Granny Kaye. She did not disappoint and gave us all a two-day-old homemade cookie. Whitley and my grandmother went straight to the kitchen, as my grandmother put it, “to cook something up.” Mitch was spending the night with Ogre; thus, as long as we could stay out, the six of us had free rein over the streets of Swansville. Wyatt and I dropped our bags in my dad’s old room, then ran out the front door. My grandmother shouted, “Just check in by dark!”
We walked back to Ogre’s house. RJ said, “You will not believe what Mitch just showed us.”
Dale protested, “This has gone far enough.”
Mitch said, “Take it easy. It’s not a big deal.”
Mitch had shown everyone a new trick. Ogre’s front yard was not just littered with junk cars but now busted drink bottles. Mitch pulled a bottle of toilet cleaner called the Works from his backpack and a piece of tinfoil from his pocket. He squirted the cleaner, then placed a small piece of tinfoil in an old Pepsi bottle, then he squeezed it. He tossed it about ten feet away. We watched as nothing seemed to happen, until the bottle began to expand. Boom! We all jumped. The thunderous explosion even made Ogre’s pet goat Izzy faint. We all laughed as Wyatt shouted, “Holy shit!”
Wyatt was still new to town, and hearing the new kid curse in either excitement or fear let us all know he would become one of us before we knew it. We set off a few more bombs, much to Dale’s displeasure, before we had to break up for dinner. We made plans to meet after dark, except for Dale. Dale was afraid trouble was in our future, and he warned us, “Do not do anything crazy.” Mitch directed me to tell my grandmother we needed to go out around 10:00 p.m. to see Jupiter since it would seem closer to Earth tonight.
Wyatt and I went back to my grandmother’s house. She and Whitley were almost finished cooking dinner. My grandmother’s pots were old, and the wooden spoons she cooked with made all her meals taste even more delectable. Her pots looked like they had been used before on an open fire. We sat to eat a hearty grandmother meal as I began to ask about going back out. I told my grandmother exactly what Mitch had directed just an hour earlier. She looked skeptical, until Whitley assured her she had learned the same thing in Mrs. Casandra’s science class. My grandmother agreed, but only if Whitley could tag along. As she put it, “Ms. Whitley will keep y’all boys out of trouble.” I bemoaned but agreed.
My grandmother was fast asleep as the three of us walked out the front door. It felt like we were sneaking out. Whitley carried our only flashlight as we walked down the middle of the street to Ogre’s house. Ogre, RJ, and Mitch waited on Ogre’s front steps. All three boys had flashlights, while Mitch carried his green book bag. Neither Wyatt nor I had told Whitley anything about the bombs.
RJ asked, “Whitley, are you ready to see one?”
She snobbishly said, “See what?”
Mitch told everyone, “Let’s go to Scarborough Park. It will be quiet.”
We walked over to Winslow’s and threw bombs in the water. Whitley was impatient. “Wow, guys, this is amazing.” Boom! Brown water and the plastic bottle shrapnel went flying. Whitley was mesmerized. We walked over to the playground and buried a bomb in the sandbox, then sprinted away. Sand went flying as we all laughed.
Whitley said, “Let’s get some two liters. I have an idea.”
Mitch only had two more small bottles, and we were running low on tinfoil. We decided to sprint to the gas station before it closed to get more supplies. We only had a little over four dollars between us. The value of money was still lost to us. Mitch and Wyatt walked in the store and bought three two-liter Pepsis. Whitley sneaked to the hot dog grill and grabbed a few tinfoil to-go wrappers. She waved, saying, “See ya!” as she walked out, believing she was untouchable. The store clerk locked the door as the three exited at eleven.
Ogre and RJ had to be home by eleven, or Jack would not be happy and he would come looking for the boys. They went home despite Whitley taunting them, “Y’all are scared, the biggest and fastest boys in town. Just go home to bed.” Mitch told Ogre he’d just stay with me since he had his bag with him. Ogre and RJ gave us their flashlights. We headed back across town as they went back home.
Mitch told Whitley, “Let’s hear your plan.”
She said, “I want to make sure anyone that is too afraid goes back to bed.” She looked at me and said, “Are you in?”
Wyatt agreed for me. “We are all in.” He still had to prove his merit, whereas I was not privy to trouble. Whitley began to detail her plan of going over to the scariest house in Swansville.
On the other side of Scarborough Park stood an old house with a white fence. The white paint was peeling off, and the old tin roof was burgundy with rust. The house looked like it belonged on a post card for Swansville before it succumbed to time. Overgrown trees hid the once-immaculate house. The trees protected it from almost every angle, and the house was assumed abandoned. Everyone had heard the stories of lights being on at the big house and the small building just to the right of the old well. Every Halloween, brave teenagers would see who could walk the farthest down the potholed driveway lined with magnolia trees. Each year the old estate was swallowed more by time.
Whitley told us there was a trash and scrap pile we could reach by climbing the fence. The four of us walked across the lit park to our frightening, dark destination. She directed us to a path through the woods. Warning signs lined the trees in red spray paint: “Stay Away,” “Danger,” “No Trespassing,” then “Turn Back Now.” Whitley led the way, with Wyatt following. Mitch and I walked almost side by side—we might as well be holding hands.
We reached what was the back corner of the once-white fence. I whispered, “Whitley, how do you know about this place?”
She silently laughed, then whispered, “I know about lots of things.”
The plan was to climb the fence, then set three two-liter Works bombs under the junk piles and tin cans lining the side of the big house. We would throw the two small-bottle bombs in front of the yard as a diversion to escape. Mitch and Whitley mixed up the concoctions for the bottles, but we did not seal the bottles or place the tinfoil in. Mitch warned Whitley she had used too much of the cleaner, and she disagreed. “The bigger bottles need more.” Whitley, Mitch, and Wyatt decided to take the two liters while I would set the diversion bombs. Once my diversions were set, I was to flash my light. We all agreed, if something happened, it was everyone for themselves.
Whitley and Wyatt fearlessly climbed the fence. Mitch looked back at me, then whispered, “It will be fine,” then he headed over. I kept my flashlight on, as the light of Jupiter or the moon was not strong enough for me to see in the pitch-black night. I aimed it at the ground. The grass was unexpectedly well-kept and short. Mitch set his bomb under what was a pile of tin cans as Wyatt placed his under an old woodpile. I watched as my bombs were last to be placed. I panicked. I had lost my sister. I quickly searched with my flashlight as Wyatt and Mitch openly objected. I shut it off as I saw her shadow. She was putting her bomb inside a trash can on the porch. I threw my two bombs toward the driveway, then flashed my light twice as instructed.
Boom! Wood went flying.