That night at dinner, Vin’s discovery was lost in the
chatter. “It’s something with three fingers.”
“Pass
the mashed potatoes,” said his father. “Animal tracks. Christ, can you believe
the Cubs lost again? Five in a row. I don’t know why I care—“
“Jim,
watch the swearing, please.”
“Creature
from the Black Lagoon,” joked his father in a deep voice.
“I
wish.”
“Mom,
I want a bikini,” pleaded Alice.
“Over
my dead body. Is the pork done enough?”
“It’s
fine. A bikini?”
“What
animal has a hand like a human with only three fingers?”
“Emily’s
mom let her get one.”
“Get
what?”
“A
bikini.”
“Well,
we don’t do things simply because somebody else does them. Especially the
Lamberts.”
“What’s
wrong with the Lamberts?”
Vin
gave up and put his half eaten dinner in the sink. It was Wednesday, so he was
supposed to be cleaning his room, but he was soon lost in the Encyclopedia
Britannica looking at animal tracks with background music from his sister’s
room courtesy of the Everly Brothers’ “Cathy’s Clown.” Nothing matched the
prints he saw in the mud earlier. Tink. Tink. Vin went to the window and peered
out. Derek stood in the yard looking up. “I got a surprise,” he said, wearing a
clownish grin.
Derek
had on a jacket on a very warm, muggy evening. He looked around Vin’s bedroom
suspiciously.
“What’s
wrong with you?” asked Vin.
The
boy slid a magazine out from under his jacket and held it up triumphantly.
“Playboy. July, 1961.”
Vin
grabbed it out of his friend’s hand. “What? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s
the real deal, my friend. The best thing is that my dad will never ask me where
it is because then he’d have to explain why he has it in the first place.”
“You
are good. Very, very good.”
The
boys spent the next half hour ogling the voluptuous women of July, until Vin’s
mother knocked on the door. “Bath time.”
“Derek’s
here, can’t I do it in a half hour?”
“Okay.
A half hour.”
“Look at those tits,” said a dreamy
Derek.
“There’s
no animal that makes prints like the ones by the pond.”
Derek
looked at Vin as if he was speaking a foreign language. “What?”
“The
prints by the pond. It’s not an animal.”
“So?”
“So
what made the prints?”
Perturbed
that Vin was off topic, Derek closed the magazine. “How the heck should I
know?”
“What
if it’s a monster? Huh?”
Derek
rubbed his nose nervously. “A monster? Monsters are in the movies. There aren’t
any real monsters. Are you crazy?”
“Then
explain the prints.”
“The prints. The prints. I bring you the latest issue of Playboy, and you’re worried about some prints in the mud. You can be pretty strange sometimes.” Derek put the magazine back under his coat and walked to the door. “See you later, Vin.”
“The prints. The prints. I bring you the latest issue of Playboy, and you’re worried about some prints in the mud. You can be pretty strange sometimes.” Derek put the magazine back under his coat and walked to the door. “See you later, Vin.”
Check out the rest of the story at They're Only Shadows.
