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‘My gosh!’ Charlie Woodood Orange Crush!’

Doug turned his bottle upside down The root beer froth hissed out to join the clear strea away to the lake The others stared, the spectacle mirrored in each pair of eyes

‘You want to sweat Orange Crush?’ Douglas grabbed Charlie’s drink ‘You want root beer spit, to be poisoned forever, to never get well? Once you’re tall, you can’t ungrow back, can’t stab yourself with a pin and let the air out’

Solemnly, the martyrs tilted their bottles

‘Lucky crawfish’ Charlie Wood his bottle at a rock They all threw their bott

les, like Gerht splinters

They unwrapped thechocolate and butter chip and almond frivolities Their teeth parted, their eneral

‘I solee from now on: no candy, no pop, no poison’

Douglas let his chocolate chunk drop like a corpse into the water, like a burial at sea

Douglas wouldn’t even let theers

Walking out of the ravine, theya vanilla ice crea She took a cold dollop with her tongue The boys blinked She licked the cone and smiled Perspiration broke out on a half dozen faces One ue, one more hint of cool vanilla ice crealas cried: ‘Git!’

The girl spun around and ran

Douglas waited for the memory of the ice cream to fade, then said, quietly, ‘There’s ice water at Grandma’s March!’

II

Shiloh and Beyond