Chapter 38

"Jeeze, a whole pack," Charlie Michaels said as Bud ripped off the red cellophane strip and tore away some of the tinfoil. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"My father's store; where else? He's got plenty under the counter, saves 'em for his old customers, Chesterfields, Luckies, everything." Bud shook out a cigarette and tapped it on his thumbnail. His friend took one and dug out his shiny Zippo lighter. They lit up and leaned back against the dirt wall of their dugout, comfortably slumped, legs extended toward each other.

The boys had experimented with various forms of tobacco including snuff, Red Man chewing tobacco, Mail Pouch roll-your-own cigarettes, and even Indian cigars, but finally decided they would stick to just plain cigarettes when they could get them. Charlie favored Kools, but Bud stuck to Camels.

"I brought a couple more magazines," Charlie said, tossing a dog-eared copy of Pic toward Bud. "You got any more a'those Marine ones? Boy, some good pin-ups in those." He pointed to the picture of a blonde in a fuzzy pink sweater pasted to the side of the orange crate that was the only furniture in their underground hideout.

"Naw, my brother brought me those, before he went overseas." Bud blew smoke toward the roof where some roots hung down between the sheets of rusty corrugated metal that they had used to cover the hole they dug. By the light of a single candle the boys studied the pictures of the girls in sweaters and bathing suits and traded magazines with each other.

"You hear about Molly getting in trouble?" Charlie asked after failing in his attempts to blow smoke rings by tapping his cheek.

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, the one with the big boobs, Dad caught her out on the swing with this guy from the Naval Hospital. The porch light was off too."

"No shit!" said Bud, lighting another Camel from the butt on the one he had been smoking. "Sailor or Marine?" He flicked the glowing butt out the entrance, admiring the distance he got.

"A corpsman, that's what she said."

Bud spit out a shard of tobacco and watched his friend blow smoke out his nose. "What's a corpsman?"

"Damn if I know," said Charlie. "Anyhow, I think this guy had her shirt unbuttoned and Dad, he nearly blew a gasket."

"Wow!" Bud said and tried to imitate his friend, managing to swallow a mouthful of smoke and start coughing. He had been puffing on cigarettes for a couple of months but still inhaled only by accident.

"Anyhow she ran up to her room crying and the sailor, he tried to explain, but he finally called Paw a stupid jackass and stomped away."

"You got any new comic books at home?" Bud said as remembered he had one rolled up and stuffed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and handed it to his buddy. "Here's the new Blackhawk. Give it back when you're finished."

"Yeah, OK. You want to dig some more. If we went a little deeper, we could sit up straight."

"I suppose. Start over there in the corner and toss it to the side. I'll put it in the basket and take it out."

Charlie started scraping at the dirt with his broken spade. "I heard one of the guys has a two-room cave down by the tracks."

"Yeah?" said Bud, sounding doubtful as he raked dirt into a half-bushel basket with his hands.

"Yeah, they dug into the side of a hill, and they take girls down there sometimes and get 'em drunk."

"No kidding."

"That's what he told me."

"Who told you, the fat Weller kid, that brown nose?"

"Naw, it was Kelly what's-his-name, you know."

"Monroe, the one whose father has that LaSalle." Bud backed out of the entrance tunnel dragging the basket, squinting as the tobacco smoke stung his eyes. He dumped the dirt near the old outhouse on the abandoned farm where he and his friend played after school and on weekends.

Bud stood, arched his back, brushed the dirt off his knees and looked at his watch, the watch with the radium dial that his parents gave him for Christmas. He tore his cigarette apart and scattered the pieces, trying to ignore the foul taste in his mouth.

Bud went back to the dugout, stuck his head inside and said, "I gotta go do my papers." He threw the pack of Camels to his friend. "We can keep those here. Don't smoke 'em all up."

Charlie laughed as Bud mounted his bike and headed for home. Leaning out over the handlebars and pedaling furiously, he thought about Charlie's sister and her unbuttoned shirt.