Read Online Also Known as Rowan Pohi by Ralph Fletcher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ralph Fletcher
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they had silver trays overflowing with fresh fruit and cheese squares skewered by colorful toothpicks. No way they would ever have a reception like this at Riverview. I found a basket overflowing with individually wrapped Lindt chocolate balls; I stashed a few in my pocket for later.
At three o'clock I boarded the bus. The other new students got off, one by one, until the last one stepped onto the sidewalk and I was the only kid left on the bus.
I leaned forward, letting my face fall into my hands. My head was swimming. I felt exhausted, discombobulated, but all jacked up too. I sat there, taking deep breaths, as I changed back from Rowan Pohi to Bobby Steele.
My phone beepedâa text message from Marcus.
Whr r u?
Marcus and Big Poobs! I felt a stab of crushing guilt so intense I had to close my eyes to ride it out. My buddies should have been part of this. I should have told them what I was doing, without a doubt. So why hadn't I?
Â
Because I would have had to tell them that I dug up Rowan's grave.
Because I would have had to swear them to secrecy, which would have put them in an awkward position.
Because if they mentioned it to anyone else, I'd be sunk.
Because I was one selfish asshole.
Marcus: Whr r u dude?
Me: #1 bus
Marcus: Can u hang? me and poobs r bored
Me: IHOP in 20?
Marcus: Yessir
Me: brng $
Marcus: Duh
Me: Can I borrow 100? Ask Poobs too
Marcus: 50 each?
Me: 100 each f u v it
Marcus: Yow dunno
Me: I need it
When I arrived, Marcus and Big Poobs were already waiting in our regular booth on the street side.
Â
"I ordered you a root beer," Marcus said as I sat down.
"Power straws!" Poobs cried.
Power straws was a tradition we started back when we were ten years old. As a ritual, it was silly beyond belief, but we still did it when the three of us met up. Ripping the paper off our straws, we leaned in and held the tips together, pretending we were some kind of space warriors crossing three intensely charged molecular beams. Poobs supplied the
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-sssstttt
sound effects.
The waitress brought our drinks and I took a pull of soda.
"So what gives, mystery boy?" Marcus asked.
"Wait a sec," I said. I must have drunk too fast because my head began to throb.
Marcus studied me curiously. "What were you doing on the number one bus? That's the wrong side of town."
I looked from Marcus to Big Poobs, not sure what to say.
"Hel-lo," Marcus said. "Anybody home?"
I tried to find a way to explain. "Look, we're friends, right?"
They nodded.
"I mean good friends. 'Really good friends.'" I was using air quotes. "And once in a while 'really good friends' have to forgive other 'really good friends' for something they might have done. Right?"
Marcus stared at Big Poobs. "I have no idea what he's talking about. Do you?"
"Nope," Poobs admitted. "You're coming in kinda fuzzy, Bobby."
I drummed the table, trying to think of another approach.
"Stony invasion," Marcus reported.
Four kids with Whitestone sweatshirts climbed into a booth against the wall. I thought I recognized one kid from the new-student orientation and sank down in my seat so he wouldn't see me.
"They're everywhere," Poobs muttered.
Marcus swiveled around and gave me an expectant look. "So?"
His high-pitched voice reminded me of the time when we were much younger and he'd invited me to his birthday party but I'd forgotten to tell him if I could come. In school he'd asked the same questionâSo?âin the same tone and with the same expression as he did now. I felt something give way inside me.
"I was coming back from school."
Marcus smelled a rat. "School doesn't start till Wednesday. What school?"
Softly, I uttered the name: "Whitestone."
Poobs's eyebrows jumped a foot. "What were you doing there?"
"Today was new-student day."
Marcus smiled. "Oh. You going to Whitestone now?"
"Yeah." I nodded, like it was no big deal. "Well, technically, Rowan Pohi is going to Whitestone."
For a long moment, nobody spoke. It dawned on
At three o'clock I boarded the bus. The other new students got off, one by one, until the last one stepped onto the sidewalk and I was the only kid left on the bus.
I leaned forward, letting my face fall into my hands. My head was swimming. I felt exhausted, discombobulated, but all jacked up too. I sat there, taking deep breaths, as I changed back from Rowan Pohi to Bobby Steele.
My phone beepedâa text message from Marcus.
Whr r u?
Marcus and Big Poobs! I felt a stab of crushing guilt so intense I had to close my eyes to ride it out. My buddies should have been part of this. I should have told them what I was doing, without a doubt. So why hadn't I?
Â
Because I would have had to tell them that I dug up Rowan's grave.
Because I would have had to swear them to secrecy, which would have put them in an awkward position.
Because if they mentioned it to anyone else, I'd be sunk.
Because I was one selfish asshole.
Marcus: Whr r u dude?
Me: #1 bus
Marcus: Can u hang? me and poobs r bored
Me: IHOP in 20?
Marcus: Yessir
Me: brng $
Marcus: Duh
Me: Can I borrow 100? Ask Poobs too
Marcus: 50 each?
Me: 100 each f u v it
Marcus: Yow dunno
Me: I need it
When I arrived, Marcus and Big Poobs were already waiting in our regular booth on the street side.
Â
"I ordered you a root beer," Marcus said as I sat down.
"Power straws!" Poobs cried.
Power straws was a tradition we started back when we were ten years old. As a ritual, it was silly beyond belief, but we still did it when the three of us met up. Ripping the paper off our straws, we leaned in and held the tips together, pretending we were some kind of space warriors crossing three intensely charged molecular beams. Poobs supplied the
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-sssstttt
sound effects.
The waitress brought our drinks and I took a pull of soda.
"So what gives, mystery boy?" Marcus asked.
"Wait a sec," I said. I must have drunk too fast because my head began to throb.
Marcus studied me curiously. "What were you doing on the number one bus? That's the wrong side of town."
I looked from Marcus to Big Poobs, not sure what to say.
"Hel-lo," Marcus said. "Anybody home?"
I tried to find a way to explain. "Look, we're friends, right?"
They nodded.
"I mean good friends. 'Really good friends.'" I was using air quotes. "And once in a while 'really good friends' have to forgive other 'really good friends' for something they might have done. Right?"
Marcus stared at Big Poobs. "I have no idea what he's talking about. Do you?"
"Nope," Poobs admitted. "You're coming in kinda fuzzy, Bobby."
I drummed the table, trying to think of another approach.
"Stony invasion," Marcus reported.
Four kids with Whitestone sweatshirts climbed into a booth against the wall. I thought I recognized one kid from the new-student orientation and sank down in my seat so he wouldn't see me.
"They're everywhere," Poobs muttered.
Marcus swiveled around and gave me an expectant look. "So?"
His high-pitched voice reminded me of the time when we were much younger and he'd invited me to his birthday party but I'd forgotten to tell him if I could come. In school he'd asked the same questionâSo?âin the same tone and with the same expression as he did now. I felt something give way inside me.
"I was coming back from school."
Marcus smelled a rat. "School doesn't start till Wednesday. What school?"
Softly, I uttered the name: "Whitestone."
Poobs's eyebrows jumped a foot. "What were you doing there?"
"Today was new-student day."
Marcus smiled. "Oh. You going to Whitestone now?"
"Yeah." I nodded, like it was no big deal. "Well, technically, Rowan Pohi is going to Whitestone."
For a long moment, nobody spoke. It dawned on
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