Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

no!”
    Edgar looked crestfallen for a moment, then broke off another chunk of chocolate. “Want some more?” he asked.
    “Yes,” said Booter evenly. Like taking candy from a baby, he thought bitterly.
    Edgar fed it to him in small pieces this time, licking his fingers when he was through. “Is your canoe still down there?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” said Booter.
    “Where did you come from?”
    Booter thought for a moment, then said: “The Bohemian Grove. Has your mother told you about that?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Edgar.
    “It’s sort of a camp. Your grandfather Halcyon used to belong.”
    “I was named for him,” said Edgar.
    “Yes … exactly.” The boy was quick, at least.
    “What do you guys do?”
    “Where?” asked Booter.
    “At your camp.”
    Booter wet his parched lips. “Well … we talk a lot. We go to plays, concerts. Read books.”
    Edgar screwed up his face. “It’s a camp?” Booter nodded. “More or less. Look … are you sure your friends are coming back?”
    “Positive. Was my grandfather your best friend?”
    “Yes, he was.”
    “Who’s your best friend now?”
    Booter took the easy way out. “Well, of course, your grandmother and I … Gangie …”
    “No,” said Edgar. “Girls don’t count.”
    Booter hesitated. “I guess I don’t have a best friend right now.”
    The boy looked concerned. “Why not?”
    Booter felt an unexpected little stab of pain. “What are you doing here, anyway? Pinching candy?”
    Edgar’s eyes narrowed.
    “I won’t tell them,” said Booter.
    “It’s just a game.”
    “I know. Don’t worry, son. We’re on the same side.”
    Philo returned breathless, with four other boys in tow.
    “Who brought the knife?” asked Edgar.
    No one had.
    “Goddamnit,” Booter muttered.
    “O.K.,” said Edgar, “here’s the deal. We carry him back to the compound.”
    “Sure,” said one of them.
    “It’s easy,” said Edgar. “We spread out this sleeping bag, and we put him on it, and we each grab some of it … three to a side.”
    Booter didn’t like it. “Wait a minute …”
    “We gotta,” said Edgar, checking his watch. “The concert’s almost over.”
    “What concert?”
    “C’mon, Zack … gimme a hand. You other guys wait outside.”
    Edgar and Zack seized Booter under the arms and pulled him over to the sleeping bag. Then they dragged the bag out into the open air, where the other boys were already in position, ready for the hoist.
    “Hey, Edgar,” said Philo, “what if he hops instead?”
    Edgar groaned. “He’s an old guy, numbnuts. He can’t hop.”
    Booter didn’t argue. He was an old guy, all right. Hopping was out of the question.
    Edgar surveyed his henchmen. “Jackson, swap places with Zack Two. He’s stronger.”
    “He is not,” said Jackson.
    “Just shuddup,” said Edgar. “O.K…. Lift when I say so. One … two … three … lift.”
    As he ascended, Booter gazed up at six intent little faces and thought of them suddenly as his pallbearers.
    “Where are we going?” he asked Edgar.
    “Back to Brother Sun.”
    “Where?”
    “The boys’ compound. Brother Sun.”
    The boys began to walk, carrying him perilously close to the ground. The darkness was almost total; the terrain seemed strewn with obstacles. There were rocks and spongy spots, impenetrable thickets, prickly branches that swooped down without warning, thrashing the boys like vindictive schoolmarms.
    “Is it far?” asked Booter.
    “No,” said Edgar.
    One of the boys broke stride, then stumbled.
    “Philo!” barked Edgar. “Stop spazzing out.”
    “I heard something,” said Philo.
    “Big homo,” said someone else.
    “I did. Hold up, you guys.”
    Amidst groans of protest, the boys came to a halt, still holding Booter aloft. He could see the moon through the trees and not much else, but he didn’t move for fear of upsetting the balance of their cargo.
    The woods seemed quiet enough. An owl or two. Guitars and voices in the distance, dim and harmless.
    “It’s nothing,” said Edgar. “What did you think it was? The boogeywoman?”
    The other boys shared a laugh at poor Philo’s expense as Booter’s magic-carpet ride began anew, faster this time. They seemed to be going down a slight incline, and the foliage had grown more sparse.
    “How much further?” asked Booter.
    “Not far,” said Edgar, puffing a little.
    “What is this place, anyway?”
    “What place?”
    “Here. This camp. These …