The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Nine: Sunny, Summer, 1978

Bishan was being a pain today. After breakfast she kept hogging the TV, wanting to see the Bugs Bunny and Road Runner Show when he wanted to see the Super Friends and the Godzilla Power Hour. 

He liked Bugs Bunny and the whole cast of Looney Toons, but they were a little young for him now. His tastes were more sophisticated, and he wanted more than just slapstick comedy and smart aleck remarks. The super hero shows had plot lines that lasted a whole half hour, with cliffhangers dangling just before well timed commercial breaks or, even more titillating, ending the half hour with "To Be Continued." Those were the most dreaded three words in the Saturday morning cartoon lexicon, and when he saw them he was left with an itchy, frustrated feeling he wouldn't know how to name until a couple of years later: delayed gratification. It was so irritating when he was left without a resolution at the end of the episode, but when he saw the next's week episode, which mercifully brought the story to a conclusion, it was so satisfying that he wouldn't be able to duplicate that feeling until he masturbated for the first time.

He tried complaining to Mom about it, that he wanted a turn at least halfway through the morning, but she was unmoved. "You're twelve years old now, Sunil," she said. "You don't need to watch cartoons anymore. Let your sister have this time. Why don't you see your friends and play outside, it's a beautiful day. Then you can come home for lunch and play with her for a while."

He looked forlornly at the TV and then at his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him. "Bishan can play with herself today," he said, unaware of the double entendre that would have made the teenage Sunny blush with embarrassment.

"Sunil, you know she's just going to hang off my apron if she's left to her own devices. I need her out of the kitchen today, I'm cooking dinners for the week."

He sighed in frustration. "Fine."

Mom raised one eyebrow at him, that one expression enough to chill his blood, and he knew he was this close to being punished. She didn't like attitude from him, but she wouldn't get it from him if she sided with him instead of the little princess every once in a while. All this deference to the younger child, which kept him from seeing the one movie he'd wanted to see his whole life, and his Saturday morning cartoons, was making him feel like he wasn't real anymore, like his parents saw right through him to the pretty little girl sitting on the couch watching Porky Pig stutter his way through another sentence.

He put on his shoes and left the house, unable to stand the sight of his smug sister for one more minute. He stormed down the stairs, crossed the bridge over the ditch, and walked up Lawrence Street, where he noticed Joe was just leaving his house and walking his way. The two met at the end of his driveway. "Hey, Joe," he said. "What are you up to today?"

"Just some free time before I help out in the fields later." He gestured to the field of beans thick and lush next to his house. "Where are Al and Rachel?"

They looked back down the street at Al and Rachel's respective houses, didn't see them, then looked toward Ewen Avenue. There they were, the two of them, looking down on something, oddly enough. Rachel had a stick and was using it on the something they were looking at.

"Huh," Joe said. "I wonder what they're doing?"

"Should we go check it out?" Sunny asked. "I'm suddenly intrigued."

They strolled down Lawrence Street; if they'd bothered to look back behind them, they would have noticed the door of the upper apartment of the building Rachel lived in with her dad opening, and a stranger stepping outside, but their focus was entirely on the two friends they knew, who were so engrossed in what they were doing that they didn't even hear Sunny and Joe approach.

"Hey, guys," Joe said. "What's going on?"

Rachel and Al turned to see them. "Dog got hit by a car," Al said.