Punk Like Me Read Free Page B

and all, like everyone. Why else would he do that?”
    Suddenly, Rob lurched and grunted; he brought himself onto all fours in the sand. “Oh, God, oh, God, I’m dying…” he groaned.
    I grabbed Nicky and Kerry by their sleeves and backed away a good three feet. I knew what was coming, and so did Kerry as she quickly shufß ed behind me, but Nicky was confused.
    “Whatchya go and do that for?” he asked indignantly, jerking his arm away. “He’s gonna die or something and…” He gestured toward Rob, then broke off suddenly to watch the jerky motions Rob was making with his head as he swayed on his knees and elbows.
    A soft, wet sound, like a soaked paper being punched, ß owed out of Rob’s mouth as a pool formed under his head.
    “That’s why you guys call him Chuck!” exclaimed Nicky in sudden understanding.
    A horrible gagging, choking sound followed almost immediately, and Rob raised his head like he was about to howl at the moon. Suddenly, something ß ew out of his mouth and landed on some poor sand rabbits or something with a nasty squelch.
    “And that’s why we call him Yack,” Kerry chimed in from behind me.
    I draped my arms over Nicky’s and Kerry’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get going,” I encouraged now that the show was mostly over. Once Yack, well, yacked, things would be Þ ne, especially after he did his little ritual, which I didn’t want to stick around for—I’d already seen it on Halloween. We headed back to the Þ re.
    Nicky hung back a moment and turned around. “But what about—?”
    “He’ll be Þ ne, give him thirty seconds.” I turned and reached an arm around his waist. “C’mon, let’s…” Shit. Too late.
    I’d had another reason for getting back, besides avoiding the rest of Rob’s I’m-drunk-enough-to-puke ritual. I had wanted to get us back over by the Þ re before anyone, especially the new guys, had noticed we’d gone off. I didn’t want to give them ideas, you know what I mean, catch each other’s eye over the Þ re, wander off, hook up in a dark corner, that sort of thing, since it just wasn’t a “me” thing to do, but the Þ re fan club had noticed something was up and had walked over,
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    PUNK LIKE ME
    jostling and shoving each other on the way.
    “Hi, um, we were, um, can we help?” the taller one asked me, holding his cup in one hand and rocking back and forth a bit on his heels.
    “Uh, yeah, is there sort of a problem?” asked his friend.
    “No, just, ah, could you guys step back about, um, three feet?” I asked them, since they were standing right in front of Rob, where he’d huddled himself on the ground again, “and maybe move over here?
    C’mon, hurry!” I had seen Rob’s hand move, and I knew it would be just a matter of minutes before, well, we were between him and the water, while he was between us and the Þ re.
    The guys shufß ed over to us, and with a suddenness that would have surprised anyone who had seen Rob in what had seemed to be his Þ nal agonies only twenty seconds before, he lurched up to his feet, screaming, “Puke Poncho!” He ripped his plastic shirt off and waved it around like a ß ag before letting it loose to ß y in a graceful (if gross) arc—and it ß ew over the two new guys.
    “Aaaarggghhh!” he continued to scream as he pounded his feet and ran furiously toward the surf. Faintly, we could hear him yell before he dove in, “From the sea ye come, to the sea, return!” I looked at the guys. The blond had gotten a miserable soaking, and the shorter one had gotten stuck holding the bag, literally. It had landed on his head and slipped down his back. I felt really, really bad for them. Well, bad and revolted.
    We all stood there, staring dumbly at each other.
    “I’m Nina, this is Nicky, this is Kerry,” I Þ nally said. What else was there to do?
    “I’m Joey, and this is Jack,” the tall one said, and they both appeared as awkward as we felt as everyone thought about shaking