Camouflage Read Free Page A

together.” Nothing like that at all.
    This house looked lived-in and smelled of leather and tobacco and the fresh outdoors. Two dark brown couches flanked a big stone fireplace. A bear rug lay on the floor between them. Moose and deer heads stared beady-eyed from the walls. A trestle table and benches stood near a window that looked out on trees and the road. And books—shelves overflowing with books and magazines. Even a rolltop desk covered with papers.
    â€œOh, wow! Cool!” Kyle repeated.
    His dad’s eyes twinkled. “‘Wow’? Is that all you can say? ‘Cool’? Your vocabulary’s pretty limited. No wonder Angie wants you to read more.”
    â€œIt’s like . . . like . . . something out of an old Western . . .”
    â€œDon’t know about that—but it suits me fine. Now, why don’t you get yourself settled, then come into the kitchen. We’ll have a cold drink and I’ve got something to show you. Your room’s back there.”
    Kyle dragged his duffel and backpack to the small bedroom.
Spartan. Simple and austere, just like the way people lived in ancient Greece
, he thought with satisfaction. A single bed on a bare floor, a small lamp on the nightstand, an old battered dresser, and a closet. His room at home was crowded with stuff, the walls covered with posters. He dropped his things on the bed and went to look at the pictures here. They were all of his father: stooping to pet a dog (did Dad have a dog?); photos with other men (his friends? his gun club?); a picture of him holding a rifle, being given a trophy.
    Kyle moved to the window when he heard a dog bark and a horse whinny. Not far from the house were a paddock and a red barn. The barn seemed to be in better shape than the house. In the distance, beyond a windbreak of trees, the land lay flat and empty to the horizon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d forgotten how good air could smell. The warm, heavy scent coming on the breeze smelled like sweet corn.
    â€œLike it?” his father asked when Kyle came into the kitchen. He was holding a can of beer and offered Kyle a cola.
    â€œ
Like
it? My face hurts from grinning so much!”
    His father’s weathered skin wrinkled into a pleased smile. “Come outside,” he said. He picked up a plain-wrapped package and led Kyle out through the kitchen door to a rickety redwood table and benches under a tree. He sat opposite Kyle and pushed the package toward him. “Gift.”
    â€œAw, Dad. You shouldn’t have,” Kyle said, feeling a rush of excitement as he reached for the package. He hurriedly slid the cord off the corners and tore at the paper.
    His father lit a cigarette and looked over the smoke at Kyle. “Hope you like it. I have one just like it.”
    â€œA . . . a . . . camouflage suit?” Kyle cried, both puzzled and surprised. “A camouflage suit! Oh, wow!”
    â€œHold it up and let’s see if it’ll fit.”
    Kyle jumped off the bench and held the suit against him. He wanted to run inside and put it on, right then. And to think—his dad had one just like it! What a cool present. Back home, if he wore this, he’d be the envy of all his friends!
    â€œWow, Dad! It’s terrific! Thanks!” He ran around the table and hugged his dad from behind.
    His father reached back and pressed Kyle’s arms. He seemed embarrassed, but pleased, too. “Now, now,” he muttered, “it’s nothing, really. Next thing I’ll do is teach you how to handle firearms. Then, son, you’ll really be a man.”

    Kyle stood at the door with Prince, his father’s big German shepherd, at his side as his dad drove away in a cloud of dust. It was after ten at night, only seven o’clock California time so he wasn’t tired. His father worked the night shift as a guard in an auto factory. He’d be home in the