Chapter 4

    Kyle spotted at least three other bus passengers listening in, so he lowered Roxas's cap bill and increased his vocal volume. "All of that on a single hamburger bun? Then you abandoned it on Mrs. Well's seat. Don't you recall? Six individuals called 9-1-1 on their cell phones when she jumped up and yelled so loudly. One of them was only three blocks away. She screamed even harder as Dr. Holmes's bassett started licking it off her clothing. Mrs. Well will rarely sit anyplace other than in her own chair, and she always looks down before taking a seat."

    A torrent of mocking laughter rained down on their heads, but Roxas shook it off. "It wasn't on purpose that I left it there." He gazed at Kyle's hands and then at his backpack after a few quiet seconds. "So, you've got another Pop-Tart?"

    With a shake of his head, Kyle expressed his dissatisfaction with the situation. "I don't see how you can avoid having a fat belly with your appetite. But don't worry, you'll have plenty to eat tomorrow night at the festival."

    "It's true, but I'm in charge of the Boy Scouts' dunking booth, so I have to rely on close friends to bring me supplies." Kyle was poked in the side by Roxas. "So, 'close friend,' are you coming to the festival?"

    "Yeah. I'll be in charge of the caricature booth."

    "Caricature? Is that one of your animal illustrations?"

    "No. Except that I exaggerate, it's a sketch of a person's face. If a man has a large nose, I make it look like a baseball, and large ears resemble Dumbo ears."

    "Do people prefer things that make them look strange?"

    "You'd be astonished at what you'd find. I do, however, draw their pets. For such, I normally get a lot of money in tips."

    Roxas extended his hand and brushed the tips of his fingers with his thumb. "So, you're a millionaire now?"

    Kyle laughed. "No, actually I've earned quite a bit, but I submit it to the Human Society. I only save enough money to buy pens, pencils, and other stationery."

    "I'm sure the dunking booth is more entertaining. Have you heard that our history teacher has offered to take the plunge?"

    Kyle was so giddy with laughter that he almost choked. "Is Mr. Arnold about to be dunk? Are you serious?"

    "Without a doubt! Isn't it incredible? I overheard him mention something about it being 'for a good cause.'" Mr. Arnold's voice, a resonant tone with a noble British accent, was imitated by Roxas. "He added, 'Scouting is a great method to turn young lads in our town into gentlemen."

    Kyle tried to hold back his laughter, but Roxas's mimicry was too superb, full of hysterical exaggeration, and he kept going. Like their teacher, he likewise mussed his hair and enlarged his eyes.

    "Do you need to use the restroom?" Roxas went on. "Did you forget to take a shower before leaving the house? Do you think you had a little too much tea this morning?"

    "Stop!" Kyle sobbed and clutched his sides. "Mr. Arnold is one of my favorites! Stop!"

    Roxas ended with another British-inflected remark. "Whatever you say, Mr. Langston."

    Kyle regained his composure and wiped a tear from his eye. Roxas's act temporarily distracted him from his troubles, but when his palm passed through his mouth, he was reminded of the strong heat of his breath. He shifted his gaze back to the road in front of him.

    The droning of the bus engine and the all-too-familiar buzz of student chitchat and mayhem distracted the guys, and the two sat in silence for the rest of the journey. Kyle found himself thinking about how to use his atomic-powered breath while Roxas peered at the mountains. He could still see his mother's cringing expression, and he didn't want Roxas to find out how awful things were getting.

    The guys shuffled down the bus exit with the rest of the squad as they arrived at school. Their bus arrived exactly twenty minutes before the start of first period, giving them plenty of time to get inside. Roxas and Kyle bought a root beer from the outdoor vending machine, as they did every Thursday. They'd then proceed to the cafeteria, where they'd trade belches and unbelievable stories with the other guys. Kyle came to a halt on the sidewalk, his root beer can dangling from his sagging arm and fingers. He looked at the school with a sad expression on his face.

    "Are you sure you're not coming?" Roxas had inquired.

    "Proceed with caution. Something has to be done."

    "Are you certain? Do you require any assistance?"

    Kyle smiled and nodded. "I'm certain."

    "I really need to get out of here," Roxas stated as he started walking backwards toward the school. "Jacob promised he'd tell us about the time he went on a safari and wrestled a lion."

    "And you've got one more, right?"

    Roxas chuckled. "Yeah. I, too, have a lion story."

    "Oh, no," Kyle exclaimed, his palm covering his face. "Not the one about you being killed at the zoo and eaten!"

    Roxas had already walked away. As he ran away, he exclaimed, "I've got the tooth marks to prove it!"

    With a shake of his head, Kyle expressed his dissatisfaction with the situation. Roxas was a total riot! It would have been fun to spend the morning swapping tall yarns, and Kyle had the ideal opening line about swallowing a blowtorch that still operated in his stomach. It would have been too genuine, though. His breath would have generated too many questions, and the boys didn't normally bring props.

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