Frisbee Page 36

TWENTY-NINE

  By the time we made it back to our houses, we were just finishing the last of our sodas. On the walk home we had goofed on Jason about Amber being his girlfriend, but in all we were somewhat impressed by the fact that he even had one. We talked for a few minutes on the sidewalk in front of our house and then headed our separate ways, telling each other we’d hang out together later at the party.

  Jason and I went inside to discover that our mom had prepared a small lunch of carrot sticks. This was just fine since the candy and sodas had pretty much killed most of our appetite. But we sat at the kitchen table and made quick work of the snack as mom put the finishing touches on her lasagna and slid it into the oven to cook. She was also putting together a wonderful looking strawberry pie, which pleased me just fine.

  After our snack, we went outside to rake up the leaves and pink, puffy flowers from the mimosa tree in our front parkway. We hosed down the driveway and cleared all the muck from the gutters in the street. By clearing away the hillside for the last week we thought that our chores for the summer were done, but we didn’t mind helping out like this in order to get things ready for the party.

  When we were finished, we went back in, got cleaned up and watched reruns of H.R. Puff n’ Stuff with our little sister Susan.

  By six o’clock that evening, our excitement could be controlled no longer. We begged our parents to start setting up outside. They tried to tell us to just be patient, but finally gave in and said to start putting the folding table and lawn chairs out in the front yard and Jason and I had them set up in minutes.

  Other neighbors were out as well, setting up food tables of their own. Some of the folks that lived up the street were bringing their things down toward our house. Since the cul-de-sac gave the most room for the party, it only made sense that everyone congregate at our end of the block.

  All over the surrounding neighborhoods, faint pops and low booms could be heard from anxious firebugs, people who couldn’t wait a couple more hours for it to get dark and wanted the festivities to start early. By seven-thirty, Dad, Jason and I were helping mom bring out food and drinks. We had more carrot sticks and a bowl of coleslaw, pickles and olives, watermelon and cantaloupe, sodas and a bottle of wine for our father. And of course our mother’s lasagna and fresh strawberry pie sitting in the middle of the table.

  People walked from house to house, grabbing a little of this or that to fill their plates with. Some stayed to chat with neighbors they knew and talked with daily. Others came and went, making friends with the people they had never gotten to know well before.

  A saw horse sat two houses up from ours and another around the corner by Aspen. Both had flashing yellow lights in the middle that warned people not to enter. Across the street, the Stanards had moved their tables and chairs in front of the Smith’s house and were engaged in animated conversation with them while they all shoved food into their mouths.

  Next door to the Smith’s, the Maherrin’s sat on a blanket in their front yard with Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets scattered around them. Mark Payne, their renter, sat on a folding chair, sipping a Coors, talking with them.

  Kitty and Oliver Pharris’ house was dark as a morgue at midnight. They rarely stopped to talk to any of the other folks on the block and no one really expected them to be out enjoying this holiday party.

  Janeal Dayborne, who had decided to join the celebration after all, was putting the finishing touches on her table while Cory and his sister Christy ran around their yard playing a game of tag. Cory’s father, Guy, was already out in a limousine, chauffeuring people around that were better off than we were and were going to parties a little more extravagant than ours.

  Next door to the Dayborne’s, Steve, Jackie and their mother sat around an old, beaten up table on old, beaten up folding chairs, eating the meal that they had prepared earlier that day. Jacob sat on the front step, by himself, smoking a cigarette.

  We had set our things up on the sidewalk at the corner where there was the most room. A couple other families from up the street had joined us and were sharing food.

  By quarter after eight, the sun had passed its halfway point on the horizon. Most people had stopped walking about and had found a place to sit at their house or with friends. Some rubbed their bellies from having eaten too much, while others swatted at the mosquitoes that pestered them. Most of the men sat with beers and some of the women with wine. Cory’s mom had come over and joined our dad in a glass of merlot. Mom wasn’t a drinker and sat with Susan on her lap, sharing a soda with her.

  Cory and Christy had also come over with their mom, abandoning what remained of their food in their front yard and Jason, Cory, Christy and I headed across the street to hang out with Steve and Jackie, but only after Jacob had gone back inside.

  At nine, a brick of firecrackers crackled to life, announcing the start of the fireworks show.