Chapter 1

When I was twelve, I met Tim. He and his family had just moved into a house a couple streets over from me. It was summer, and I was at the neighborhood playground, kicking a soccer ball around, alone. I saw this red-headed boy I had never seen before. He was wandering around and watching me, looking lost. I stopped kicking the ball and approached him.

“What’s up? You looking for something?” I asked.

He gave me a broad, friendly smile and replied:

“Naw. Just looking around. We just moved into a house on Jasper Street, and I wanted to get away from all the crazy stuff, while my mom told the movers, and my dad, where she wants things put.”

“I can see why you got away. Welcome to the neighborhood. Are you new in town, too?”

“Yeah. My dad got a job transfer and we had to sell our old house in Illinois and move here. My name is Tim Brennan.” he informed.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Tom Larson. People still want to call me Tommy, but I hate it!” I muttered.

“I know what you mean. My mom and sister still call me Timmy. I’m twelve years old, for pity’s sake! I’m not a little boy anymore!” he groused.

“Me either! I’m twelve, too! I’m in junior high next year.” I bragged.

Tim and I hung out for another hour, then he said he should get back, in case his dad needed another man, to help move in. I went along, and showed him where I lived, then he took me to his house. I didn’t want to get in the way, so I told him so long, and went home. Over the course of the summer, Tim and I became inseparable. Either he was at my house, or I was at his. I’m an only child, so Tim could hang out at my place without anyone interfering with our play, except my mom and dad, of course. At Tim’s, it was a different matter. He had a bratty little sister, Breanne. She was nine years old.

I guess she wasn’t bratty. She just wanted to be involved in everything Tim and I did at his place. She had red hair, like Tim, and wore it in pigtails most of the time. I guess she was kind of cute, with her big blue eyes and little giggle. There weren’t any girls her age living nearby, so she had no playmates until school started. This caused her to try playing with Tim and I, but being boys, we had more important things to do than dealing with a little girl. We tried to shut her out of our play, but occasionally, she would join in, and as much as we hated to admit it, she was kind of fun to have around. She loved Tim, and he was solicitous to her, too.

When school began, Tim and I were in the seventh grade and had some classes together. We rode the school bus together and though we hung around a group of friends, Tim and I were still closest. I didn’t see much of Breanne during the school year, except occasionally on a Saturday. Breanne had dance practice on Saturday, so unless I was there before or after, we didn’t come into contact. It was no big deal to me. She was just a little sister to my best friend.

As Spring approached, in our seventh-grade year, we were having an enjoyable time. Do you remember, as a kid, those little heart-shaped candies with the sayings printed on them, like ‘pucker up’, or ‘Be Mine’, and lot of other quips? There was also a bag, or box of Valentines Day cards, for kids, with or without an envelope. We still messed around with those in junior high, and I bought a bag of cards, and candy, to hand out to selected individuals in my classes. Some, you could give to a guy, and others to girls. While I was making mine out, to be delivered the next day at school, I had one left over. On a whim, I made it out to Breanne, as a kind of joke. After our classes ended on Valentines Day, I handed Tim the card to Breanne, laughing as I did so. The next day, he told me she had gone ‘apeshit’ over the card. We laughed again. Every year after that, Breanne would give me a Valentines card. I never gave her another one.

Tim and I still spent a great deal of time together. One day, we were sitting around in Tims’ room, and we began thinking up silly names for people we knew. It was fun, and we decided he would be called Timber!, for Tim Br -ennan. We laughed so hard! Then it was Frosty for his sister, because she was Br -eanne Br -ennan, or BrBr! She thought it was hilarious when we told her. Pretty soon, all her school friends were calling her Frosty, too. I became Drum, because I was Tom, or tomtom. We could have done better, but what the hell – it was fun at the time. Those nicknames followed us throughout school and into adulthood, although Tim got a few weird looks when he was called out in the traditional call of a logger felling a tree.

During junior high, Tim and I both went out for soccer and had fun. We were not stars, but we held our own on the field. We both did well in classes, making the honor roll, and when we began high school, Tim and I both made the football team, becoming guards who were known to decimate the opposing line and managed to keep our quarterbacks unscathed. Tim and I were still inseparable. Once we got our license to drive, we double-dated a lot, often seeing who could get farthest with our date. We were popular with the girls, and though we probably could have scored, we remained aloof, with no serious relationships. Because we wouldn’t get serious about a girl, we ended up virgins until we’d turned eighteen, in our senior year. Like true buddies, we ended up losing our virginities on the same night, in the same car – separate girls, of course (grin). While we were having fun, and making the honor roll, each year, Breanne had been keeping pace with us: she was also on the honor roll. I hadn’t seen her very often, and really hadn’t paid attention. All that changed, in my senior year.