T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid Read Online Free PDF Page A

to me, crooked grin and all. His teeth are big and white.
“Hi, Bear,” Otter says. Theres determination in his eyes.
     
“Hi, Otter,” I say, looking back at him, fighting against the urge to throw his arm off of me.
    For a moment he looks like hes about to speak but something must cross his mind, changing it, and he takes it back. He gives me a one-armed hug and then steps back to stand in front of me, looking down at the beer in his hand. I wonder what just happened and what he was going to say. I wonder a lot of things, but its all batted down by the sound of rain on the roof. I look down at Creed, but his attention is still focused on the spilled beer, so he didnt see anything. Not that there would have been anything to see. I look back up to Otter and am trying to make out the mess that is my mind when he says, “So, whats the word, Papa Bear?”
    I shrug. “Same, I guess. Whats new with you? I havent seen you since what, the Christmas before last?” I say this last bit coldly, as we both know damn well when the last time I saw him was.
    Hes about to speak again, but this time is interrupted by Creed. “Yeah, whats up, Otter? Not that I mind at all, but how come youre here? What, San Diego getting to be too much for you?”
    Otter shrugs, and I dont think hes going to answer when he says, “Felt like I needed a change of scenery for a while.” He takes another sip of his beer and doesnt speak further, and it drives me fucking crazy.
    Hed graduated from the University of Oregon in Eugene and had stayed in Seafare for a while. After my mom left, some shit went down, and then Otter was gone too. I have only seen him once in the last three years. I know he works for some kind of photography agency down there where his work is apparently hot shit. The house Im in right now is full of his pictures, his moms equivalent of hanging coloring pages and good test scores on the fridge.
“Uh-huh,” Creed says. “Are you sure its not troubles with your boy—” “Uncle Creed?” The Kid calls out from the living room, interrupting
    Creed, but not before I see the warning look that Otter shoots him. Creed smirks and yells back “Whats up, Kid?”
“Did Otter go get my soy ice cream yet?”
    Otter laughs. “Is that your way of telling me I need to go get it right now for you?”
“Yes. I was trying not to be rude, but I would like ice cream for when my show comes on.”
“What show is that?” I ask, trying to remember if hed told me. “Its a show about the history of slaughterhouses in the 1920s,” he calls back.
    “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I mutter. Theres nothing quite like the buzzkill of seeing how hamburger gets made. And nothing quite so boring as the history behind it. I turn to apologize to Creed and Otter, but Creed stops me, as he knows where Im going.
    “Shut up, Bear, and let the Kid do what he wants.” He finishes off his beer and reaches in to grab another one, saying, “Besides, I want to watch it, too, and see how long it takes for me to get drunk enough to see if it gets funny. Why dont you go with him?” he asks me. “Give Ty some Uncle Creed time and you some time off.”
    I can think of at least four hundred reasons why thats a bad idea and look at Otter who is scouting around for his keys. “Do you want me to go?” I ask. The moment I say the words, I regret them. My mouth tends to move on its own.
He looks surprised but readily agrees. I tell him Ill be right back, and I go to find the Kid.
    I walk through the hall, pausing to look every now and then at the pictures on the walls. Theres one from, like, fifteen years ago of Creed, Otter, and their parents. There are separate ones of Creed and Otter and other family: grandparents, aunts, uncles. It used to weird me out seeing these pictures. We didnt have anything like that hanging in our house. My mom said that when I was seven, she took me with her and had our pictures taken “professionally,” I remember her saying proudly. But when I