Panic Picnic

Bounce, bounce, bounce. I step away from an on-coming basketball. Geordie runs around the side of the house chasing after it. His eyes rise to stare at Al and I.

“Where are you two going?”

“The beach!” exclaims Al as he nudges at our picnic hamper. I shoo him away.

“You look like you’re going to a frat party. Beaches are well grotty.”

“It won’t be when we get there. May we borrow your ball?” asks Al.

“No.” Geordie snatches up his basketball. “Mine.” Which gains a giggle from Al. Must be a private joke of theirs. “Don’t forget I need you home by six for the Canterbury patrol. Are you on the job or not, Hillcrest?”

“I suppose I could skip night street skating for you.” I need the commission to pay back the sandwich store. I implied they could go over-board with our picnic.

“What the fuck’s night street skating?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”