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

asked her where the pictures were, she said she couldnt remember.
    I get to another picture in the hallway and stop. Its black and white, taken when me and Creed were fifteen years old. Otter had taken it, showing us jumping on a giant trampoline that they used to have in the backyard. Otter had caught us mid-jump, our longer hair frenzied about our faces, our shirts bunched slightly up around our stomachs, revealing white lines of skin. I look at myself then and realize how different I look now. How different things are now.
    I was too skinny all through high school, until finally I got sick of it and started working out. Im nowhere near as bulked up as Creed is, but its a lot better than where I started. My face isnt tragic and my skin is clear. I dont have a tan, but then most people that live here dont. I have brown eyes and black hair that needs to be cut. I have a white scar on my forehead near my right eyebrow where Creed had accidentally hit me with an aluminum bat when I was thirteen years old. That took four stitches, and my mom sat with me in the emergency room, saying I should see if I could get any Vicodin. I did and gave it to her.
    Ive never been one to be concerned with looks or vanity (for the most part). To be honest, I dont have the time. I dont have fancy clothes or expensive haircuts and dont really see the need for it. Im more worried about keeping a roof over our head and buying Tyson new shoes almost every other week. I dont know how its possible for a nine-year-old to go through so many pairs of damn shoes. So, with all that, Ive learned its significantly easier to be humble when youre forced to do it. You can consider that a life lesson from me to you. Youre welcome.
I take a deep breath and look back at the picture, a moment caught from what feels like a lifetime ago.
    I go out to the living room and see the Kid reclined out on the sofa, head on a pillow, eyes opened wide as he watches yet another show that looks like it belongs in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre . “Kid,” I grumble at him, “I dont know how you dont have nightmares from this. This creeps me out.”
“Maybe you just feel guilty about what you eat,” he deadpans, never raising his eyes to look at me.
    “You little punk,” I growl, leaning down and tickling him right under his ribs where I know he gets it the worst. My mom and I are the same way. He tries not to laugh but is soon howling at me, “Bear, Bear!” trying to wiggle this way and that. I stop, and he looks up at me with such a look that for a moment I am blinded by my love for this kid, my Kid, that it feels like my breath gets knocked out of me. I kiss the top of his head, and he says, “Ah, gross!” but thats okay.
    “You gonna be okay here with Creed for a little bit while Otter and I go get your ice cream?” I ask when Ive recovered myself a bit.
His eyes steal away from the TV and lock onto mine. “Youre going to come back, though, right?”
    I smile reassuringly and ruffle his hair where I kissed him a moment ago. “You got it, Kid. I shouldnt be gone long at all. It should only take a little bit, but to be on the safe side, give me an hour, okay?” He looks at his watch and notes the time, then nods. I do, too, seeing its almost seven. “You have your cell phone with you?” I ask. He nods again and pulls it out of his pocket. “Alright, then. Ill be back in a little bit, but call me if you need to.” He nods again, already back into his show. I touch his head again and walk back toward the kitchen.
    It may or may not be weird to you that he has a cell phone. It seems like a lot of kids his age do these days. Its not really something I can afford right now, but I make do. I learned early on after Mom left that if he had his own way to reach me, he felt better about being apart from me. He never uses the cell phone to call anyone else, and aside from Creed, Anna, Mrs. Paquinn (our next-door neighbor, more on her later), and occasionally Otter,