The Drowning Game Read Online Free PDF

want is for that person not to be dead. ‘Can you do anything about that? No? Okay, how about you give me some of your IQ points, because you obviously have way more than you need.’ ”
    Oma slapped me in the head, effectively silencing me. I was almost grateful. Almost.
    â€œLass den Quatsch,” Oma said. “Petty doesn’t need any of your lip.” Then Oma addressed Petty: “He’s a real smartass sometimes.”
    I rubbed my head.
    â€œSorry,” I said, my embarrassment so intense it took near physical form, like a parasitic twin growing out of my side. “I really am sorry about your dad.”
    â€œOkay,” Petty said, turning back to her book. “You can pull on through.”
    When we were out of earshot, Oma said, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
    â€œI was trying to treat her like she was anybody else,” I said. “And is there any way I can talk you out of smacking me around in front of other ­people?”
    Oma made a sound like Psh.

 
    Chapter 4
    I SAT WITH my eyes on my book, but I wasn’t reading. I was watching Dekker Sachs and his grandma wrestle the washing machine out of the bed of their yellow Toyota pickup from my peripheral vision so they wouldn’t know I was observing them.
    The sniping between them seemed like an act, like the banter in a sitcom. I allowed myself a silly daydream, of being around other ­people like this, of talking and laughing with them. Maybe this daydream was on the verge of coming true.
    After they drove away, thinking of the Sachses’ easy conversation—­nothing like the two-­word communications between my dad and me—­filled me with an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling. It was an expansion, pushing up through my chest and warming my face, making me want to smile. In fact I caught myself smiling, staring at nothing as a red Dodge Ram pickup pulled up next to the booth.
    This made me jump off my stool. I was so deep in thought about the conversation with Dekker and the old lady, I hadn’t heard Randy coming. I had violated the first OODA Loop rule: Observe. Dad and I had drilled on this endlessly. When I was eight or nine, he’d started leaving me alone in public places to help me learn to be vigilant and ready to act. The first time, he didn’t warn me beforehand. We were at Fort Hays, and he vanished from sight. I was scared at first, but then I found a place to get my back against a wall. As soon as I did that, he reappeared and explained to me that I’d done the right thing.
    OODA Loop: Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. Dad had taught me to always be alert. Always be in a defensive position. Always be cataloging your options. Always be ready and willing to act. If you blow any one of the rules, you’ve blown them all. And I’d blown them big-­time just then.
    I swept thoughts of the Sachses out of my head and focused.
    From my observation of Randy the previous day, I knew he didn’t carry a handgun, but wore a sheathed hunting knife clipped to his belt. I’d have no trouble blasting his head off if he decided to attack me. I slung the shotgun over my shoulder.
    Randy cleared his throat through the truck’s open window. “I got everything all arranged.”
    I didn’t respond.
    He waited a beat before he said, “Did you want to hear about it?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œWe’ll have the funeral at the mortuary in Niobe tomorrow at two.” He paused to see if I’d have any reaction. When I didn’t say anything, he went on. “Nothing fancy, short and sweet. Everything’s already paid for. It’ll be a closed-­casket ser­vice, but after the ser­vice you’ll have a chance to say goodbye.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    â€œI’ll pick you up tomorrow at one,” he said.
    That meant I’d have to ride in a vehicle with this guy, which was against Dad’s