Today is Sunday!
The last two Sundays passed worthlessly for me. I don't even remember
what I did; so I probably did nothing. But this Sunday, Smako and I decided to
do something. We decided to go to the river. We'd take a train to the beach on
the west side, and have a swim. And I'll take my diving set with me. I have to
do something with it, since I bought it.
Vern called. After I told him that we are going to the beach, he cried
out that he's coming with us.
"But we're all ready," -- I warned.
"I'm also ready," -- Vern answered. -- "How are we going? The train? Then
you guys just start walking to the station, and I'll catch up and meet you
Smako and I were just passing the house where Vern lives when we spotted
Ian. He was pottering with his brother's "Galaxie". The car stood at the
sidewalk and Ian could not get it started.
"Don't drive the starter," -- I said to him, -- "you'll kill the battery."
Ian opened the hood, and stood next to it, clearly not knowing where to
"Let's try turning the shaft." -- I suggested.
Smako and I grabbed hold of the flywheel and turned the shaft directly.
The motor was spinning as a street organ, but made no starting noises.
"You should check the ignition and fuel supply," -- I said.
Ian got out of the car and, indecisively, stared under the hood.
Seriously, he doesn't know how to check the ignition and fuel supply! I'm
"Check it!" -- I said.
Ian irresolutely touched one of the spark plugs, then another and
perplexedly looked at us.
I never dealt with a Ford Galaxie. And I don't care about technical
stuff. But all in all, all cars and trucks have the same basic principle; and
we do those kinds of checks at the garage all the time. At first you need to
check whether there is a spark, then -- whether or not gasoline arrives into the
"Let's check the spark," -- I told Smako.
I pulled one of the plugs out, Pete spun the flywheel, and a strong blue
spark slipped from the plug onto the motor frame.
"Ignition is working well!"
I thrust the plug back into it's socket and, just in case, thrust a
headless wooden match in there so the contact would be tighter. We do that at
"Now let's check the supply. Ian, give it!", and I turned to Ian and
extended my hand.
And what does Ian give me? The ignition key! He doesn't understand shit!
"What are you giving me?!" -- I shouted. -- "What are you giving me, you
moron?! Gimme a wrench, not the fucking key!"
I was not angry at all. I only pretended. It was pleasant to have Ian
running around like a frightened bunny, to make him realize how worthless he is
Ian rummaged in the trunk and stretched forward a wrench. I unhooked the
gasoline pipe line. Gasoline was not arriving through it. Clearly, the gas pipe
is littered. We blew it through -- and gasoline immediately started flowing.
Peter and I, smiling, looked at each other. We found the malfunction, and so
quickly!.. And it's not so simple, when you think about it. Even skilled
drivers sometimes don't know how to do these simple checks, and call a
mechanic. And we found it right away. It's pleasant, really...
At that moment Vern appeared. It's his luck that we were tied up helping
Ian with the car, otherwise we would've been on the train already, and we definitely
wouldn't have waited for him.
Ian sat in the driver's seat and started the car. He was giving it gas,
wanting to be convinced that everything is all right. Then, with the tone of a
guy who doesn't mind giving you a lift, if it's on his way, he asked:
"Where are you guys headed?"
"To the train station."
"Get in the car."
Now, looking at Ian, it was hard to believe that just a moment ago we
were making him run back and forth like a little mouse. He was sitting back
comfortably, steering with one hand. In other words, he was back to his old
"Where are you guys headed?" -- He patronizingly asked.
"To the beach, on the West Side."
"What a dump of a place!" -- Ian laughed. -- "It's crowded and dirty! I'm
going to the Silver Pine forest. There's a dream of a beach! I have a meeting
with some friends there."
"Well, we can't go there, we don't have a car."
In Vern's voice rang a request for Ian to take us with him. Ian
pretended that he didn't understand that request. But where Vern failed, Smako
immediately succeeded. That's what it means to have a practical way of
thinking! Peter simply amazes me sometimes.
"You won't get there," -- Smako said indifferently.
"The fuel pipe line will get clogged again."
"You think?" -- Asked Ian with anxiety and started driving slower.
I immediately understood Peter's tactic and picked it up:
"Of course. There's probably litter in the tank. Where's the guarantee
that it won't jam up again?"
Ian answered nothing. Silently, he drove in the direction of the train
station. On the one hand, he didn't want to take us with him. On the other
hand, he was afraid to go alone. What if something is to happen? What will he
do without us? What all newbie, mechanically ignorant drivers do: flag down a
passing car and ask the driver for help, or call AAA and get in huge trouble
with his brother, the car's owner, at home. Plus, he probably only had a
permit, not a license, so he could get in trouble with the cops as well.
We reached the train station. Ian irresolutely said:
"By the way, I can take you a bit farther, drop you off at Telton
"Yeah, right!" -- I objected and slightly opened the door, intending to
get out of the car. -- "With the train we'll be at the west side in ten minutes.
Like we need to be stuck in traffic in your stuffy jalopy all the way there!"
"But why do you have to go to the West Side," -- said Ian in despair, --
"I can take you to the Silver Pine forest beach."
"I don't know," -- I said in an indifferent voice , -- "Whadda you think,
"It's possible, perhaps," -- Smako said. -- "Whadda you think, Vern?"
"Yeah, okay, let's go," -- Vern agreed.
And so we were on our way to the Silver Pine forest beach.
It was a fine performance on our part!
The beach at the Silver Pine Forest turned out to be remarkable! There
was a lot of people there, truth be told, the parking lots were chock full of
cars, but there was nothing to compare it with the West Side beach. Open
spaces! Cleanliness! Nature's Beauty!
We were slowly driving up a hill. The beach was covered with people. Ian
attentively peered at the cars parked close to the bank and stopped, having
noticed a gray Lark. Near it, having half-buried himself in the sand, laid a
dark-haired guy in white swimming trunks.
"Hey, Nick!" -- Ian shouted.
The guy lifted his curly head, lazily waved at Ian and again buried his
face in the sand.
We advised Ian to park right here, on the other side of the lot, and
walk down on foot. The car would be clearly visible from below. But Ian did not
listen to us. He drove further, found a descent to the riverbank and drove
down. Then Ian stopped the car:
"Find a good spot, I'll be back soon. I'll just drive up to
those guys and come back."
We understood perfectly why Ian wanted to leave us here. He does not
wish to acquaint us with his older friends. Or, more accurately, does not wish
them to acquaint with us. We, of course, don't give a lick about this, we can
perfectly manage without Ian. But how would we get back into town?
"And how would we get back?" -- We asked.
"You guys are odd," -- Ian laughed, -- "I'll be back soon!"
"You won't come back," -- Vern said. He knew Ian well, having been his
aide-de-camp for so many years.
"I give you my fair and noble word!" -- Ian had sworn.
"If you ditch us, we'd fuck you up so bad you wouldn't recognize
yourself!" -- I threatened.
Ian insultedly pouted:
"Please, no threats. What beastliness! If you threaten me, I'd leave
"Just try, see what'll happen!" -- said Smako.
"What's the difference where you swim -- here or over there?!" -- angrily
"Very big difference!" -- Vern answered. -- "If we go with you, we can
change in the car out of our swimming trunks after; and we can leave our stuff
in the car as well, so we don't have to worry about it. And here someone can
"Who needs your junk, no one will touch it!" -- Ian objected.
I was starting to get annoyed with arguing.
"All right, sail away! But if you ditch us -- watch yourself!"
With contempt, we looked at Ian driving off, and started looking for a
place to settle down. The spot where Ian landed us was sucky. There were a lot
of people, cars, tents, bonfires, cans rolling about... Too busy!
We went along the beach in the direction Ian drove off. We figured it
would be a good idea. Ian will be afraid to leave without us, but just in case,
it's better not to lose sight of him. We found a good spot about two hundred
feet from the Lark. Near it stood Ian's Galaxie. Ian, having hunkered down, was
talking to Nick, who was still laying on the sand. Then he undressed, put his
clothes in the car, stood "at attention", extended his hands sideways and took
some deep breaths. He was clearing his lungs of the city air and replacing it
with the river freshness. Then he said something to Nick and walked in our
direction. Having seen us, he made joyful eyes as if he only just met us.
"You're all arranged? That's great!" -- he sat down nearby. -- "Let's
"Let's go swimming," -- Vern offered.
"I'll roll about a little," -- Ian said and lay on his back.
We ran to the water. The river here is wide, quite shallow, mostly
knee--deep. Only in the middle it gets deeper, and then again shallow up to the
This is the first time I've gone swimming in the river this year. Each
time I get into the water, I decide to go swimming at least once a week. Is it
really so difficult? Some people swim in any weather, even in the winter. But I
never carry out this decision. I don't know why. Probably laziness, or lack of
time. But now -- that's it! Now I decided: every day after work at the depot
I'll go to the west side beach, or to the swimming pool at the YMCA...
"Why haven't you put on your mask and flippers?" -- Vern asked.
Actually, I totally forgot about them. I didn't take them out of the
"I forgot them in the car," -- I answered, -- "Where are yours?"
"Ancient history! I traded them a while ago."
"For one thing," -- Vern mysteriously answered.
He did not like to tell us about his trade operations: they were usually
not in his favor, so he was afraid of our sneers.
We splashed about a bit more and got out of the water. Ian was, of
course, over with his friends. He sat there in the company of a guy in swimming
trunks and a hippy-looking girl in a funny red rubber hat and very long hair. I
remembered them at once. They're the ones who came for Ian on this Lark back
then, when we were sitting in the yard of our building. Now they sat and talked.
Only Nick still lay prone.
If I met some of my acquaintances here on the beach, I could go and sit
with them. There would be nothing offensive in it neither for Vern, nor for
Peter. And, if we were to meet the acquaintances of Vern or Smako, they too could
go and sit with them. And none of us would impose ourselves, would not budge in
and ask to be introduced... But in Ian's behavior was something nasty. He, as
always, tried to get rid of us.
"Bring the mask and flippers, I'll try them out," -- Vern said.
"I don't want to go there, the hell with them!"
"The gear is yours, you have every right to take it," -- Smako said.
"I allow you to do it for me."
"Are you afraid?"
"I'm not afraid, I just don't want to go. They'll think that I'm
imposing myself on them."
"So because of false vanity we should not have fun?" -- Vern was
indignant. -- "Let's all go!"
We walked to the car. Ian stared at us with anxiety. The guy and the
girl also looked at us expectantly. Only Nick continued to lay prone. In all of
my life I never saw such a hairy person. He even had black ringlets of hair on
his shoulder blades.
"We're taking the diving set," -- I told Ian.
"Go ahead," -- Ian answered, having been delighted that we have only come
for the gear. He then turned to his friends and with an apologizing voice he
added: -- "These are boys from my building, I brought them here, showing them
the world divine."
"Ian is a friend to children," -- derisively proclaimed the guy, reddish,
long-nosed, with a hardish and strong sight. Despite the ambiguity of this
phrase, I caught in it a sneer not aimed at us, but at Ian.
I opened the car, took out the diving set. The girl suddenly stretched
her hand forward:
"Let me see."
Nick slightly turned his head, looked at us askance and again buried his
face in his crossed arms. I noticed his black eyes and short black moustache.
The girl felt up my diving set with her hands and asked:
"Can I try them out?"
"Sure," -- I said.
We all went to the water. Except for Nick. Nick had not stirred.
We walked out into the deep part. The girl, who's name, for some strange
reason, turned out to be Pine, with the help of Ian and the reddish guy put the
flippers on. The guy's name was even stranger: Sandy! A man -- and suddenly he's
Pine pulled the mask on, turned her head this way and that, stuck out
her tongue at us and dove. Her feet, extended by the flippers, flashed in the
air. She came up in about thirty feet from us, pulled off the mask and
"I can't see anything."
"That's because you're closing your eyes," -- said Sandy, -- "You're
squinting. Give it here."
After Sandy I dove, then Ian, then Vern. Finally, Smako went. But he
came up, for some reason, without the mask. He was holding it in his hand.
There was little sense in the diving set. You just get to see the sand--covered
bottom and people's feet for a while. Maybe it'd be great on the sea, but on
our puny little river...
Pine and Sandy turned out to be great. They were easy going, fun people.
And it was wholly apparent that they had no respect for Ian, which was
especially pleasant to us. They didn't take him seriously. When Ian said
something, Sandy would always say: "Really?" -- with doubt in his voice. This is
the way you speak to a person whom you do not trust. And Ian, on the contrary,
spoke with excessive persuasiveness. As a person who had gotten used to the
fact that people do not trust him.
Also, I noticed that Ian was constantly trying to get closer to Pine;
stealing glances at her bathing-suit covered boobs, and at her long,
light-brown hair. When she was diving, Ian would always be near, to help her
with everything, even though she really didn't need any help. He would touch
her at every opportunity, when he was helping her put the mask and flippers on,
or helping her to take them off. She was very nonchalant about this, but I also
noticed that she thinks nothing of his advances and is not flirting back. Sandy
also noticed Ian's efforts every time, and looked at them with a knowing,
condescending, smile; as if he wanted to say that he knows nothing will come
out of Ian's efforts. After the third time underwater, Pine came up and
suddenly turned to me:
"Can you help me out of this?"
My heart started beating somewhat faster, as I came closer to Pine's
very appealing body and let her lean on me as she took off the flippers. She
almost tripped once, standing on one foot in the river current, and I grabbed
her sides with my hands for support, just below her breasts, and then I blushed
deeply. She laughed lightheartedly, and put her hand around my neck. Even
standing in the cold water, I sported an immediate boner. Also, I caught on
myself the amused, smiling eyes of Sandy and the jealous, angry eyes of Ian.
Pine was flirting with me! I tried to calm myself, however, as it was clearly
just for laughs: I must have seemed such a little boy to her. She had to be at
least seventeen years old, I'd say probably eighteen or nineteen, and I was
fourteen, and looking like I was twelve, on top of that.
But, jokingly or not, Pine continued hanging around me for the remainder
of our stay in the water. She was constantly smiling at me, talking to me about
some trifles -- like diving techniques she knows, for example -- and occasionally
touching me -- putting her hand on my shoulder and once even brushing my cheek
with her hand. Needless to say, my boner remained constant throughout the whole
ordeal, and once, after putting her hand on my shoulder, her hand slid
downwards and (accidentally or not, I don't know!) brushed my hard dick with
the back of her palm. Oh my god!.. It was like an electric shock. I stopped
mid--sentence, unable to say another word, and stared at her. Just then, Smako,
who finished his round with the mask and flippers, came closer and handed them
to Pine again, diverting my attention to the fact that we weren't here alone.
Pine told Smako:
"It's okay, I've had enough of those, just give'em to Sandy."
Smako, without saying a word, walked off and handed the mask and
flippers to Sandy, who immediately started pulling them on. Ian was stealing
resentful glances in my direction, obviously wishing it was he who was standing
there with Pine. Pine, meanwhile, suddenly turned to me, took hold of my
shoulder, and said:
"Hey, Tinny, will you help me with something?.."
I looked up at her:
"Sure. What with?"
"Come on," -- she said, took me by the hand, and led me into the deeper
part of the water.
We swam across to the other side of the river, and got out to the grassy
shore. I looked back across at our group, and saw that Sandy was handing the
diving set to Vern, while Ian was still following us with his eyes. Sandy then
looked at Ian, and following Ian's gaze, he looked in our direction as well. I
can't be all the way sure because we were pretty far away by now, but I think
that Sandy winked at me, mischievously.
Pine, however, took hold of my hand again and led me into the thick pine
forest which started in a hundred feet or so from the grassy shore. She wasn't
saying anything, and I wasn't either, but my heart was pounding so hard that I
was sure she'd be able to hear it. I was still semi-hard, and wondering what
this hippy chick had in mind to do with a piss-ant boy like me. Finally, we
stopped at a small clearing, with a mossy, cozy looking huge rock in the dead
center of it. Pine turned around, sat on the rock, took both my hands in hers
"Tinny. Is that your real name?"
I could understand how someone named Pine and who hangs out with a guy
named Sandy would think that this is my real name. I said:
"No, it's from my last name, Tinner. My real name is Steven."
"Oh." -- said Pine and smiled. Then she let go of my hands,
reached back and... took off the top of her bathing suit!.. Really!.. I couldn't
believe my eyes, as I watched -- mesmerized -- how her full round breasts fell
out into the open, staring at me like two milky-white moons of magnificence. My
dick immediately turned from a semi to a full-on strainer, tenting out my
swimming trunks as far as they would go.
"Had you even been with a girl, Steven?" -- asked pine, while still
smiling. I saw no reason to try and cheat, and quickly shook my head no, as I
was unable to speak anyway. Pine then reached forward, and gently pulled down
my swimming trunks. I was, probably, turning into a dark shade of red by now, I
was so embarrassed. Oh, how I wished I had more hair than that pathetic little
ringlet at the base of my cock! And how I wished I had more to offer than this
boyish stick, which she probably, at least in my head, considered laughable.
But pine looked at my area without mock or ridicule, with a gentle smile, and
"You're so cute! I just love boys!"
And then it dawned on me: my underdeveloped frame and boyish dimensions
were an asset here, not a drawback. If Pine would have wanted a developed teen
with a hairy cock, then maybe Ian or Smako would be here in my place now
(though hardly: she clearly didn't care for Ian, and Smako is ridiculously bad
at these things). But she wanted a boy; and I was around, and now, it seems, a
very important experience is about to happen to me. My embarrassment eased up
slightly, and I smiled back. Pine took this as an invitation, and took hold of
my dick with her hand.
Wow! I almost came right then. It was different than Matty touching me,
probably because my brain kept going: it's a girl, it's a girl, it's a girl,
it's a girl! I fleetingly thought that Matty touching me was somehow more
intimate -- probably because we had a real emotional connection, while this was
just physical fun. But at the same time, Pine's breasts just inches from my
face, and the skillfulness of her hand, made the sensation unlike anything I've
experienced before. Pine then took my right hand with her left (her right
continuing to work up and down my cock) and put my hand on her breast.
"Rub it," she said. I did as instructed. It was soft and velvety, and
the nipple was hard and rubbery. Pine, however, took hold of my other hand, and
put it on her other breast, all the while managing to keep the motion going up
and down my rigid tool. So now I was rubbing both her breasts while being
slowly masturbated. I was in seventh heaven, unable to speak, my face still
wearing an amazed expression, still not fully believing what my brain was
already getting comfortable with. Then Pine suddenly slid downwards on the
rock, so that my dick was now at her chest level, and slid my straining tool in
between her boobs. Wow! Now this was interesting. I was still rubbing her tits,
while she reached behind me, took hold of my butt and started to push it
forwards and backwards. I quickly understood the idea, and started sliding my
dick back and forth between her boobs by myself. It was an interesting
sensation: there was less pressure than there was when she was wanking me with
her hand, but at the same time it was way sexier, and gave me a warm fuzzy
feeling at the base of my balls.
This went on for a while, until pine came back up (my dick slid out from
between her tits and traced a line down her stomach to her crotch, which was
still clad in her bathing suit bottoms), and suddenly she french--kissed me,
sucking my mouth into hers, wrapping her tongue around mine. My hands were
still on her breasts, and I continued rubbing them, both of us breathing
heavily, while we sucked each other's faces. Then Pine gently pushed me away,
took hold of her suit bottoms and pushed them down, stepping out of them, and
revealing the holy grail to my amazed gaze. Her pussy was covered with a thick
layer or brown hair, but even through that I could see that it was moist.
Having no idea what to do next, I just stood and stared. Pine smiled at me,
took hold of my back and pulled me in closer, my very hard, excited member
lining up with her crotch. Then she took it with her hand, positioned it at the
opening, took hold of my butt again and pulled me in, my rod pushing it's way
pass the opening and sliding easily into her moist depths.
An involuntary scream escaped my lips as I felt the indescribable
feeling of her welcoming vagina surrounding my cock with it's warm coziness. My
sexual temperature jumped up several notches just from that very first thrust.
Pine was also breathing loudly, as she took hold of my hands and put them back
on her breasts.
While lying there and rubbing her breasts, with my dick buried in her
pussy, my instincts started taking over, and I started slowly thrusting back
and forth. My eyes were staring between us, as I was looking with amazement and
disbelief as my little friend was disappearing inside her mighty bush and then
appearing again. Every time I pushed it all the way in, my crotch would feel
the warm fuzziness of her public triangle, and my tight ballsack pressed up to
her slit. I felt that I wasn't going to last long at all, and desperately tried
to delay my finish, as to not come off as a total spaz. But for all of the
slowness of my thrusts and my mental efforts, a minute later I was no longer
able to contain myself. I started banging her pussy faster and harder as an
incredible orgasm washed over my body and I, without thinking of anything
anymore, pumped three spurts of my boy-juice into her hole, whimpering like a
puppy as I did so.
Pine waited for my orgasmic high to subside, and petted my back gently.
She smiled at me, and I felt heavy embarrassment roll up; I turned red and buried
my face in the comforting softness between her breasts.
"I'm sorry," -- I mumbled from there, -- "I couldn't help it... I came too
quick, didn't I?.."
I felt Pine put her hand on the back of my neck, stroking me gently:
"That's okay, don't worry about it. It was actually pretty good for a
boy's first time, trust me!"
That reassured me somewhat, and I found the courage to raise up my face
and look at hers. Pine smiled at me:
"Besides, we can go again soon. How long would it take for you
I didn't really know what to say to that, and decided to inspect the
state of things, so I carefully pulled out my dick out of her pussy. It was
still hard, a long string of transparent cum stretching from the opening after
it. Suddenly I became really scared, remembering the sex book I read with
"Shit, but I squirted inside of you... won't that make you pregnant?.."
Pine stroked my hair:
"Don't worry about it, I'm on birth control. Look, you're still hard!
Can you go again?.."
I touched my dick to feel things out.
"It's still too sensitive. Maybe in a few minutes?.." I said hesitantly.
"Great!" Pine smiled, and started frenching me again.
After a few minutes of sucking on each other's tongues (during which she
sometimes gave me tips as so improve my kissing skills) and playing with Pine's
boobs (which I also got some instructions for); Pine once again took hold of my
dick and guided it inside of her canal. I could still feel the stickiness of my
cum inside of her, which in tandem with the sensitive post-orgasmic numbness of
my cock made for a very interesting feeling. I started slowly pumping in and
out again, while still frenching her as best I could.
This time it took a while. I was slowly picking up my rhythm, but my
second orgasm was still far away, and I felt confident that this time I'd last
longer. I started driving my dick in more forcefully, trying to bury it as far
as it would go, and heard an immediate reaction from pine: she started moaning
with every thrust. Encouraged by this, I started massaging her breasts more
energetically, which also reaped it's rewards in the form of intensified
moaning. Suddenly Pine reached between us, took my right hand off of her
breast, and truck in down in between our two crotches. I didn't understand what
she wanted at first, but then she guided my finger to a small spongy protrusion
located just above where my dick was going in and out of her. I took the hint
and started rubbing this soft button up and down. The effect was profound: Pine
all but screamed out, grabbed hold of my butt cheeks and started pushing me
faster and harder into herself. I hammered down on her as fast and as hard as I
could, while still rubbing that spongy button of hers, feeling my second orgasm
quickly approaching. Suddenly, I heard Pine release a long and deep whimper,
and felt her pussy twitching really hard, it was as if it was grabbing my dick
all over and milking it violently. This was more than I could bare, and I
unloaded myself into her pussy for the second time, sending a couple of small
spurts into the depth of her cunt.
Both of us breathing heavily and with whimpers, we slowly came down from
our high. Then I slipped my finally softening dick out of her, and snuggled
against her warm, welcoming body. Pine said between breaths:
"Wow... that was... great! I hadn't cum so good in a while!"
I felt proud, and just kept breathing quietly, thankful for the
experience this wonderful hippy girl allowed me to have. I was no longer a
virgin, and I learned a few important things too. After a few minutes of quiet
cuddling, she got up and put on her bathing suit. I did the same. We returned
to the river and swam back across, to join our friends, all of whom were
already on the beach. Pine -- in view of everyone! -- gently kissed my cheek, and
went in the direction of the cars, where Sandy, Nick and Ian sat, while I went
in the direction of our clothes, where Vern and Smako were waiting for me.
I sat next to them and said nothing, looking at the river. Both Vern and
Smako, however, were staring at me, with clear expectation. I said:
"Whadda you mean, what?! Spill it!"
And Peter added:
"If you don't tell us what happened right now, you'll get a beating."
I wasn't planning to keep me losing my virginity a secret, I just wanted
to torture them a little. So I once again stared at the river and said nothing.
Finally, Smako punched my shoulder.
"Ow! Fine, what do you want to know?.."
"How far did it go?" -- Smako asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Far. All the way. Twice." -- I replied. Vern whistled:
"You lucky son of a bitch!.. How was it?.."
"It was... awesome. She... taught me stuff."
Smako looked at me sideways, hemmed and didn't inquire further. Vern
spent the next few minutes pressing for more details, but I refused to talk
about it anymore. What happened -- happened! I'm a gentleman, I'm not gonna
tell. Finally, Smako told Vern to stop harassing me about it. Then he said:
"Ian is gonna hate you pretty bad. He's got the hots for her, didn't you
I was surprised at Pete's unexpected insightfulness.
"Yeah, I saw it. But he's an asshole, and I'm cute and lovable, so she
wanted to have some fun with me, not him. What was I supposed to do, say no?.."
Smako agreed that, of course, I shouldn't have said no under any circumstances.
We laid, sunbathed and kept talking about Ian. We condemned his sponger
role. It's good that we are not spongers, never were and never we will be. He
is demeaning himself, trying to appear older and more important in front of his
older friends, who still think nothing of him. And my experience today is just
more proof that it is always better to be yourself, to be who you really are.
People will like you more.
We felt great. The sun baked with might and main. We were not afraid of
sunburns. Vern had a tube of sunblock ointment. Smako and I nearly squeezed out
the entire tube on ourselves, Smako even greased his heels.
Then Ian started waving at us. Nick and Sandy were getting dressed. Pine
was hidden from view -- she was probably getting dressed in the car. Ian was
pulling up his trousers. They're leaving...
We got dressed as well and approached them. Nick and Sandy got into the
car. Pine already sat at the wheel. She smiled at me.
Ian said in a pleading voice:
"I'll just take the kids to the train station and catch up with you
"All right," -- said Sandy.
"Just don't go without me."
"All right," -- carelessly repeated Sandy, -- "Let's go, Nicko!"
They closed the doors with a slap. The engine roared. The car took off,
made an abrupt turn and drove off the beach.
We followed it with our sights automatically, like you look following
any leaving car. Then my sight fell to the sand... And I froze.
On the sand I saw sharp, deep and wide traces as though the car that
passed here wasn't a Lark, but a Willis Jeep. Precisely the same traces, as I
saw there, on the back road leading to the truck depot.
I followed my sight along these traces and on the place where the car
turned sharply, I saw, near to the Jeep's traces, the narrow traces of a
standard Lark tire. And then further, where the car has gone straight, the Lark
traces once again disappeared and there were only the traces of the Jeep...
"Tinny, let's go, I'm late," -- Ian, again finding his commanding tone,
I was ashamed to look at Ian. Without turning, I said:
"What strange tires their car has..."
"Nothing strange!" -- Ian answered. -- "They fitted the tire covers of a
Jeep, to increase off--road ability."
With a fading heart I asked:
"On all four wheels?"
"No!" -- Ian impatiently answered. -- "Only on the rear. On the front
wheels they have stock rubber. Enough of this now, let's go!"
We thought, that after the meeting the restoration of our truck will go
slower. After all, before we did it during the working day, and now only two
hours after work. But it turned out to be just the opposite -- it became much
faster. The mechanics helped us more. Some have so lit up by the idea, that
they tried to do all the work for us. It caused our lawful discontent. After
all, we are restoring the truck ourselves!
"Well, you see, universitant--emansipe," -- foreman James Dennon said to
me, -- "The earlier state of events was uncertain. The brigade did not know what
conditions the truck is being restored under. And now they know: it's a public
cause, for the greater good. And everyone wants to contribute to a common
Overlooking the reference "universitant--emansipe", James Dennon's
thoughts seemed very reasonable to me. Even deep. The state of things should
always be clear.
At last we put the frame on the back lot and begun assemblage. The
assembly is the final stage of the restoration. The end is near -- so all work
faster. It was pleasant to see, how the naked frame turns into a truck.
It was always crowded around our truck. No other truck in the depot
attracted so much attention, everyone wanted to hang around our truck. Even the
manager came to hang out with us. And if there was a jam, some part was
missing, he'd say: "Go to the warehouse, bring it. Tell them -- I said it's
okay". The work advanced without bureaucratism and red tape.
I think that it was more pleasant for the manager to sit in the sun--lit
yard than in the cigarette--smelling office. But he can't just sit in the yard
for no reason, people will say he's slacking off. And to sit near our truck is
fine -- it's a public truck, it belongs to everyone.
And the workers are having fun chatting. When they repair other trucks
and cars, there is no time for chatting, they have deadlines. And our truck is
public, so you can chat around it. Also, it was pleasant for workers that here
they can disagree about things with their superiors and argue with the manager.
In the shops you can't argue, you do what you're ordered. And our truck is
public, you can discuss technical points as much as you want. Especially
because we were equipping the truck as an educational unit, we were installing
additional controls for the instructor. So that the instructor could rectify an
error of a pupil and prevent an accident.
During the lunch break workers sat with their milk and loafs of bread
around our truck and advised how to do what, made suggestions. There and then
came truckers who were ending their shift, recollected how they studied on
instructional trucks, and gave ideas as how to better ours. And also argued
with the manager. And when the manager defended his opinion, he didn't refer to
the fact that he is the manager, but to the fact that he is a former trucker.
In general, around our truck established a free, pleasant atmosphere. Everyone
liked working in this atmosphere. Even office employees, who were leaving the
depot through the back lot, looked at how we work, listened to the discussions
of the technicians, were surprised that we, schoolchildren, are restoring a
The chief accountant, who is quite a gloomy person, said:
"It is pleasant to see."
He probably meant it in the sense that it is pleasant to see that the
truck restoration is free of charge, and not a part of his budget. Or maybe he
didn't mean that, but something else. I didn't ask him.
All of our kids honestly fulfilled the two extra hours. Some remained
longer. For example, Ivan Polak, Adam Grinko and other kids with technical
leans. And, of course, me and Smako. As we were the first assistants of Bud
Zephron. Ian also hung around near the truck. He even made more fuss about it
than others. He saw that the restoration is moving well. But he still held
nothing in his hands, except for that damn folder.
The issue with the shock--absorbers became absolutely clear to me now.
How didn't I think of this before? It was just the one Lark that drove up to
the back lot, just that it had the tires from a Jeep on the rear wheels. The
rear wheels, when going straight, destroyed the trace of the front wheels. And
on turns where the tracks do not coincide, both sets of traces remained. And
the Lark in question was the Lark that belonged to Ian's friends.
I was looking at Ian and thought: is he really involved in such a dirty
business?! Even now I could not believe it. Is he a criminal?.. And Sandy, Nick
and Pine, are they criminals as well? Pine?! That sweet, pretty
hippie girl that took my virginity at that forest clearing?.. And, even
excluding that, we had so much fun and laughs together, that day at the beach.
My head was bursting from these thoughts. In my mind, a criminal
was an absolutely different kind of person. Actually, not even a person, but
something altogether different. It always seemed strange to me, that criminals
dress as all people do, some even dress well -- this displays human feelings,
and all that is human is alien to them, as I see it, because they look upon the
world with hostility. I didn't understand, why do criminals go to the movies,
because at the movies they show normal people, normal human feelings. I did not
understand, why they listen to music, sing songs, even read books, after all
most books teach good and condemn harm. The criminal is an antipode of a
person, and the fact that they act normal seemed unnatural to me.
I read and heard about criminal kids that did awful things. Sometimes
they were the children of good and even famous parents. But all of it was far,
distracted... I could not assume, that one of my friends might be a criminal.
Ian, whom I know for so many years, Ian -- a criminal! And these nice people:
Pine, for whom I will now always hold a warm spot in my heart, the funny,
sarcastic Sandy, the phlegmatic Nick -- might also be criminals...
No! I cannot even consider that Pine is a criminal. She was so sweet and
gentle, and I felt so close to her on that forest clearing. I would have sensed
it if she'd been a bad person. She was probably fooled, suckered into this
plot, just like we kids were. She is an innocent victim of circumstance, I'm
sure of it. Sadly, however, I could not be as confident in Ian's innocence. I
know him from first grade, yes. But I cannot, as much as I'd liked to, tell
myself that he would never do such a thing.
Then, on the beach, I thought that Vern and Smako hadn't guessed,
haven't seen the traces on sand. But at the train station, on the sly from
Vern, Smako said to me:
"That's the car."
And when we were on the train, Vern leaned close to me and whispered:
"It was that car!"
The entire trip Vern and Smako threw out phrases to me about this car.
Vern -- having seized a moment when Smako doesn't hear him, Smako -- when Vern
turns away. To put an end to this foolishness, I said to Vern:
"We need to tell about all of this to Peter."
"He can help. And the guy is as silent as the grave, you know that!"
Thus, Vern didn't find out that I already told Smako everything long
All of that evening we went back and forth along our street, without
even measuring steps. All of the distances here are precisely measured in
steps. So that it's not insulting to anyone, when we see each other off. If
Vern and I are walking home from school, I am obliged to go forty more steps to
see him off. If we go by his house, he is obliged to walk me sixty more. But
that Sunday evening we had no time for counting steps...
"Say what you may," -- I said, -- "But I still cannot believe, that Ian is
a thief. Maybe he just made some mistake, and unwillingly got into this story.
We should talk to him."
"There is nothing to speak with him for. We should just bring all this
up at a class meeting."
"Come on, Vern, you guys were friends."
"Oh really?! Has he been acting like my friend?!" -- Vern cried. -- "He
wanted to pin it all on me, when it's really his fault!"
Vern was a kind guy. But now he was beside himself, recollecting the way
Ian behaved meanly during the story with the spare parts. Vern often unjustly
served as a whipping boy in our grade. And, thinking about these unjust moments
now, he boiled with indignation.
"You should rise above this!"
"Rise above what?"
"Above your own insult!"
"If we talk to Ian, he'd tell them, and they'll cover up their traces.
We'll be the fools then. We should just go to the police."
I have resolutely said:
"Behind his back? No way!"
So in the end we didn't agree on anything then. More accurately, we
agreed that we will do nothing, until we agree definitively. And keep all this