The jokes flowed easily and as Craig punched Thomas in the upper arm, the 17-year-old snapped, "So when are you going to learn to kick the ball," as Jake and Ryan guffawed at their friends mishap in practice earlier.
Not one to let this bother him, Thomas retorted, "When you learn how to defense properly," in a witty tone.
A serious of laughs greeted this and after a bit the jokes turned to other things as the four jock friends soon began talking about the excellent year they were having so far, then shifted their conversation to other issues, including teachers they couldn't stand, girls they were dating, and other matters that seemed equally important. Coming to the street where Craig lived, Ryan commented, "You're dad still going to get us beer?"
"Hell yeah, dude," Craig stated. "He said that as long as I have a great year and don't do anything stupid, he will," but then trailed off when he saw the sunlight glint off something partially covered in the gutter.
"Must have gotten hit in the head harder then thought," Jake grunted in not-so-serious tone as he glanced at his friend and reaching over, he knocked on Craig's forehead and exclaimed, "Hello. Hello in there. You going to finish that sentence, or keep us hanging?" to which Thomas and Ryan began to snicker.
Instead of answering, Craig pushed his friend's hand away, leaned down and pulled from the gutter what he thought was cheap, costume jewellery. Certain he should toss it away, even as Thomas joshed, "Hey, look. Some kid lost a part of their Hallowe'en costume. What you thinking, Craig? Thinking of going trick-or-treating. Maybe dress up as a pretty pirate wench or a princess or a ballerina," then began laughing uproariously and was soon joined by Jake and Ryan.
"Shut-up, douche," Craig snapped, then, whilst he still thought about tossing the necklace away, he pocketed instead and said, "My cousin might like it. Such garbage is right up her alley."
Jake and Ryan made a couple weird faces as Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but never got a chance as Craig punched him in the arm and stated, "Hey. If anyone is going trick-or-treating as a fairy, it would be you, dude. What with the way you kicked that last ball at tryouts today," and as Ryan commented, "Burn," Craig added, "I bet you would go with your younger sister. The two of you would look so pretty in matching tights."
The peals of laughter from Craig, Ryan and Jake that followed kept Thomas from taking serious what his friend was saying and punching Ryan in the arm, he replied, "Hey. At least I kicked the ball. Unlike this fool, who missed the tackling dummy completely and almost sacked the coach," and as the four returned to their previous talks about the great season they were having, each feeling like it called for the promised beers and the evening of celebration, the amulet was temporarily forgotten as the four jocks continued towards Craig's house.
Home, Craig carelessly dropped his backpack next to the front door. Not even giving the others a second glance as they did the same, the 17-year-old sauntered through the one-story house to the kitchen at the back. Finding a note taped to the fridge, he tore it off and read that his dad would be working late at the factory, that there was beer in the icebox and money for dinner on the counter. Snooping around, Craig found nearly sixty bucks left out on the counter and grabbing it as the other three came in the kitchen, he explained, "Dudes. The night is ours. Hooyah. Beer to celebrate a great season and pizza from Fat Tony's for dinner," a comment that was followed by a chorus of, "Yeah."
Hours later, the four sat around, talking about nothing important, though, to their inebriated points of view, it all seemed important. A rich burp escaping Ryan, who was reaching for one of the last slices of pizza, he barely understood Jake as he said, "So, dudes. What are we going to do this weekend."
"Don't know about tomorrow," Craig stated, his voice kind of slurred and before he could say anything else, Thomas burped, "Get me another beer," to which Craig smiled and told him, "Get it yourself. I'm not your bitch and it's the maid's day off."
A round of laughter escaped all four of them, which grew even wilder when Thomas stood and stumbled out of room. The laughter dying down, the remaining three tried to talk about what they could do for the next two days. The conversation not really going anywhere, neither of them paid any attention, at first, to their friend when he came back empty handed. A lapse in the talk caused Ryan to look at Thomas and the instant he realised what he was seeing, he guffawed, "Hey, dude. You went for a beer, like ages ago. What? Did you get lost in the hall closet again?"
A bemused look crossed Thomas' face as he recalled the the one time it happened. Slowly shaking his head, he said, "Naw. I got lost in your mom's bedroom. She was almost all over me like, something, on something," a comment that was followed by a round of loud cackling, then Craig stating, "The fridge is right there," as he tried to point at it, but instead pointed at the wall-mounted phone, the counter and a couple other things that were nowhere near where the icebox actually was.
"Dude," Thomas crowed. "That's not where the fridge is," then, pompously stated, "This is my house. It's my house. I know where it is," before shambling in the exact direction his friend indicated, and somehow managing to find what he was looking for.
The conversation betwixt the three still sitting at the table shifting to other things, but mostly football and girls they wanted to bang and what a great season they were having, they barely paid any attention to Thomas as he sat back down. After a moment, Craig noticed his friend's empty hand and snorting in laughter, he asked, "So you couldn't even find the beer in the fridge?"
"All out," Thomas casually replied.
The four looked at each other, stunned by this. Jake, reaching for the last slice of pizza, eventually stated, "We can't celebrate out great season without beer," which was followed by a chorus of yeahs, then, Craig, asking, "So what should we do?"
"Let's go get some," Thomas exclaimed after a bit. "I bet my mom would let us have some. She works at a bar."
The comment not sinking in at first, the four friends sat and stared at each other until it finally clicked that Thomas' mom not only worked in a bar, but she also owned it. But still, they did move from where they sat. The minutes slipping by, the last of the pizza and swigs of beer finished, it was Jake who suddenly exclaimed, "Beer run. Thomas. Your idea. You're driving," which was followed once again by several yeahs as the four leapt up and headed for the backdoor, grabbing coats and the keys to Craig's car as they went.
Outside, Thomas stopped and breathed deeply the cold October air. Believing it had a sobering effect, and that he wasn't as drunk as he thought, he unlocked the driver's side door, opened it and reached over to unlock the passenger side. His friend's piling in, neither of them gave it a second thought about what a stupid thing they were doing as Thomas started the car, gunned the engine, found first, then second gear and tore out of the driveway. Swerving a little as he shot down the street, he cried, "This is a bitchin' car, Craig. She wants to run. Yeah" as he quickly pushed it up to thirty-two miles-per-hour.
The three howled in agreement before Craig said, "No shit, dude. Why'd you think I choose it," then started to say something else, but instead suddenly gripped the dashboard hard and screamed, "Hey! Look out!"