Brutico 1

Joseph Brutico
Dr. Holleman
English 015
2 May 2014
Summer Time Madness
The last day of summer had arrived (or at least thats what we believed). My two
cousins, who also happened to be my best friends, would depart for Egypt in the morning
while my family would leave for the beach a few days later. The next time Id see them
would be on the weekends during the school year. As a result, Rico, the younger cousin,
lobbied for what he called a celebration. He told my younger brother and I that we would
be celebrating a summers worth of fun and freedom from harm or so we thought.
The plan of action, a late night bike ride into town, was simple and frequent. By
this time, Rico and his older brother Marcello, along with Gabe and myself, had been
sneaking out of our houses for a few years. However, on this night, Rico informed me
that Marcello had decided that he wouldnt be joining us on the nine-mile trip. He instead
wanted to be the look out, covering for Rico if their parents were to wake up. I think he
was too lazy to go, he just never wanted to admit it.
It was just after eleven when my phone began to ring. I quickly answered,
anxiously uttering, Hello?
Hey, cuz its Rico. Whats your six?
Uh, ya know, just watching TV with Gabe, I responded.
Is your mom she asleep yet? asked Rico in an impatient tone.

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No, not yet. But, uh, I guess we can leave early. Ill have Ang cover for us, I
responded eagerly. I didnt want to keep Rico waiting; he tended to be naturally
impatient, a trait probably passed down from his grandmother.
Okay, Ill tell you what. continued Rico, Ill meet you at the bottom of your
hill. That should give you guys enough time. Just try to hurry up, Okay?
Okay. Just shoot me a text. Ill see you in a little bit, I responded, closing the
conversation. I turned, looking at the tight, brown curls on Gabes pudgy little head. He
knew that it was time. I texted Angelo; he was upstairs monitoring my mom. His job was
clear. If my mom asked, he was to tell her that Gabe and I had fallen asleep downstairs.
This was the perfect alibi because my mom would never go into our basement. Seeing my
mom in the basement would be like catching Santa Claus on Christmas. It just didnt
happen.
As my older brother Angelo kept an eye on my mom, Gabe and I crept out of the
basement and onto the beautiful stone patio. I popped my blonde little head around the
brick corner, peering up the main steps that led to the driveway. Gabe stood closely
behind, twiddling his thumbs in search of any noise he could pick up. Once the coast
looked clear and the motion sensor lights turned off, I, followed by Gabe, darted quickly
across the yard to the rock wall. The swish of each individual blade of grass hitting my
tiny feet filled my ears. We stopped, and peered across the dark yard at the laundry room
window. I cant see mom. I guess thats good. I whispered to Gabe, Lets keep going!
We slowly walked up the hill, with our eyes still on the window.
After a minute, I arrived at the shed, which of course was closed. I directed Gabe
to stand watch. He went over to our favorite tree, climbed a few feet, and peered out over

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the green leaves at the same window. As I opened the shed, I had one hand the nob,
prying the door open, while the other was attempting to cancel out the force of the pull,
nullifying the loud noise of the door. The shed was barely used so the doors were never
broken in. The only things in there were some old golf clubs covered in cobwebs, mice,
and our beautiful bikes. The sheds location was in the dark corner of the yard. It was past
the driveway, hidden from sight because of the cars.
I opened the shed. A loud bang echoed in the night, slowly fading as the door
continued to wobble. I stopped, waiting to see if someone had heard. Gabe gave me a
thumbs-up and I grabbed my B.M.X. bike. It was dashing. It had a black and white twotone paint job with black spokes on black pegs simply beautiful. Gabes bike was nice
too, but not as nice as mine. I grabbed his bike as well and made my way along the rock
wall to the end of the driveway. Gabe flowed shortly behind. We stopped once more,
looking at the sliding glass door; a door frequently used by my mom to feed the outdoor
cats late at night. Suddenly, the lights turned on. We dropped our bikes. Gabe and I
quickly squatted behind the garbage cans. We waited. Nothing came into sight. I swear
those lights went off because of ghosts. Gabe and I got back on our bikes, and took off
toward the death zone.
The most remote part of the adventure was of course the very first, and
unfortunately the last, part of the long journey. And, being the older brother, I was in
charge of leading, although Gabe could have led if he desired. I think he let me lead out
of respect rather than fear; it was a brother thing. If any of the brothers had gotten
themselves in to trouble, it was the job of the eldest to talk the others out of it. It was a

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rule. An unspoken rule, but a rule all the same. With that being said, I was in charge of
leading the way.
We were just past the driveway and at the top of the street when I laid out the
beginning of the hike. I peered at Gabe under the only streetlight for the next mile. He
had on his usual style of all black clothing. He had a tall, slender build. My whole family
was naturally skinny and tan, very tan. Our big, dilated brown eyes made contact. I
whispered, Listen to me. If you see something, shout and pedal faster. If you fall and
youre afraid, grab a rock. If you cant grab a rock, grab a stick.
Okay, I will, he responded shakily.
And dont forget to make yourself big. They are more afraid of you than you are
of them! I insisted, although I knew this not to be true. How would something that large
be afraid of two twelve-year-old kids, especially if the mom had cubs?
And if we see someone? he responded, swallowing out of nervousness.
We probably wont, so dont worry about that, I said attempting to quash his
anxiety. Again, I knew this statement to be completely false. My family lived in a strange
area. We were located only a mile from the public high school, but also a mile from a
mental hospital. It wouldnt be abnormal for a patient to escape and travel directly across
the street and through the woods. On one occasion, like a tale out of a horror movie, my
father described what the neighbors had witnessed. It was in the middle of a wicked
storm. All of the sudden, the neighbors heard loud bangs on their door. It was a patient.
He had escaped in the middle of a power outage. He traveled across the street, and
through the woods, landing on my next-door neighbors deck. Sopping wet and crazy, the
man slammed away on their glass door. Just the thought of that very story gave me the

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willies. However, I couldnt show fear in front of my brother. One of us had to pretend to
be an iron curtain. I then reiterated to Gabe, If you get scared, just pedal faster. And
remember, dont stop.
I began to gather myself, attempting to focus on the task at hand. I looked ahead.
The long dark road harbored trees so thick that the moon wasnt visible, even on the
brightest night. I put my left red and white sneaker on the pedal, pressed down, and took
off.
The faster I pedal, the faster I would be out of here. I sped up, moving my little
legs as fast as my young muscles allowed. Just dont look to the sides. Keep pedaling.
Faster. I swerved. Pothole! I yelled. Gabe swerved. Another one! I again exclaimed,
peering back at Gabe. Wrong move! Quickly, the front wheel of my bike smashed into a
crater. As my butt smashed into the uncomfortable seat of the bike, the handlebars twisted
the opposite way, banging into my knees. The unpadded seat and repositioning of the
handlebars made for frequent bruises. I always felt like this was the bikes act of
defiance, trying to tell me that it doesnt appreciate my ill use of it.
Great! Just Great! I hate this stupid bike! I exclaimed as my white shirt and
cargo shorts became soaked with brown rainwater. Gabe stopped just in front of me.
Hurry up! Help me out! I said out of anger. I cant fix these handlebars by myself!
Gabe quickly paced over to my bike. I looked about the woods. I dont think my pupils
have ever been so dilated, my blood vessels so constricted. We must be getting out of here
before someone, or something, gets us. Hold the bike down! I told Gabe. I pulled up on
the handlebars. Nothing. I pulled a second time. The handlebars still wouldnt budge. I
looked around the woods again as a sweat drop dripped down the left side of my face. I

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took in a deep breath and pulled with all my might. The handlebars popped back into
place with a loud screech. Suddenly, the slow crunching of branches slithered in the
night. I looked deep into the dense, dark forest. The rustling of leaves swaying in the
wind penetrated my ear. Just then, another branch snapped. I looked to Gabe, eyes wide
and breathing from his mouth. I utter, Hurry up! Lets get out of here! Gabe ran to his
bike and hopped on. I sped behind him, too afraid to look back.
A few minutes later, Gabe and I had thankfully arrived at the bottom of my hill.
We stopped before the faded red stop sign and yellow tinted street from the sole
streetlight above. Just then, a flash of light appeared from a dark, gravel side road. A dark
figure moved into the street. As it came closer, a red helmet became visible, hiding a head
full of curly, black hair. It was Rico. His pale skin glistened as he came closer. He looked
into the road before quickly running up the street to greet us. Hey, good to see you guys.
Whyd you take so long? he asked.
Joes bike broke again, Gabe replied.
How long have you been here, I asked.
Uh, only a few minutes. I ran into the woods, took a leak, and smoked a
Swisher, Rico responded calmly. If we leave now we can make it for dinner and
breakfast. Cello wants hot cakes. You know how he is.
Yeah, sure. Lets get going, Gabe replied as he began to get back on his bike.
From here, we took a smooth, relaxing ride through the town. My long hair
fluttered in the wind, cooling my once panic stricken body, as I rode with one hand on the
bike. The trip through town was always casual. We rode down a side street, a block off
the main road where the only grocery store was located. We passed the stores parking

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where a different car sat empty each night. All of us became numb to this odd occurrence.
We then took a left onto the main road that led through town. We passed the old, antique
shops that I never saw people enter, the beautiful church that my aunt had frequented, and
the homemade ice cream shop on the corner simply dubbed Mannings. I went first
through the empty intersection, flying down a huge hill that was lit up with numerous
streetlights. As I came to the bottom, I clutched the break, which always made the most
gut-wrenching screech. I quickly veered to my right and into the parking lot of an outlet
mall filled with useless stores. We cut through the blockbuster parking lot, arriving at the
drive-thru window.
Susanne! I exclaimed. Susanne was now a long time friend of ours. She had
shiny, black hair pulled back in a bun with a headset that sat on her round face. She was a
single mother struggling to support her only child in hopes of making it to the corporate
level of the McDonalds industry. Susanne graduated with a degree in business only to be
the late night manager of a fast food restaurant. Frequently, we had talks about how shed
get there and that when she did, she would have to call all of us on her fancy phone. The
motivation always made her happy. It was this very reason that she loved seeing us every
night.
Ugh, not you guys again, She said jokingly.
Yeah, you should be used to us by now! Rico replied.
Oh, believe me, I am. What can I get for you crazy boys, She asked.
Uh, I want hot cakes and a chickum samwhich with large fries and a coke, said
Rico in his typical strange renditions of words.

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Ill have the usual, a number six, crispy, with large fries and a cherry coke, I
replied, smiling as Susanne laughed to herself.
And lastly, Ill have two McChickums, with medium fries and a cherry coke
too, said Gabe, adopting Ricos lingo.
Susanne brought us our delicious food while we sat patiently on the steps of the
closed down utility store next door. She handed Rico the bag, uttering, You boys be
good tonight! Dont get in trouble!
Oh, we willllll, replied Rico in a mischievous tone as he opened the bag of
food. Instantly, the delicious scent of freshly fried chicken, the fries still sizzling in the
red McDonalds container, and the hot cakes, the sweet scent that Mr. McDonald himself
must have perfected, filled our nostrils. We were starving and ready to feast!
Rico, look! Here comes a car! I exclaimed as my heart sank into my chest.
Were fine, dont worry, He responded calmly as he put the bag down on the
step.
Its coming this way.. What should we do!? Gabe asked frantically. Quickly, the
car turned in our direction, blinding us with high beams.
No, uh, were fine. We should, uh, uhm.. We should.. Lets run! Come on! Lets
go! Forget the food! replied Rico as if he had seen a ghost. We looked for the bikes.
Where were they? Oh no! We left them behind the building!
Stop right there! Put your hands up! Dont even think about running! exclaimed
a loud voice over a megaphone. A man, dawning a black uniform with a head as round
and bald as a bowling ball, paced toward us. Two other cruisers boxed us in between the

Brutico 9
corner of the old store and a hill filled with picker bushes. What do you think you guys
are doing here? The officer demanded.
Plead the fifth! I learned about it in school! Rico whispered under his breath.
Were not doing anything officer, just enjoying a late night snack, replied Rico in a
soft, respectful tone.
You broke into this store last night! Accused the officer as another man
approached us. The man approaching was too an officer. He was wielding a notebook that
looked like he bought it from a Blues Clues catalog. He had a thin, orange-brown
mustache, combed over hairstyle, and thick nerdy glasses that screamed I grew up in the
80s.
This store? Why would we do that? Were only eating a midnight snack, replied
Gabe.
Well, why are you out here then? Do your parents know where you are?
Inquired the same officer.
Yeah, they do, I snapped quickly, They dont mind. It was at this time that the
second officer, who we nicknamed mustache man, sought to know what was in Ricos
gym bag.
What if we plead the fifth? asked Rico.
Well then, well just have to take ya down to the station and wait til someone
calls lookin for yas, replied the bowling ball. Rico slowly took off his bag and spilled
its contents. Thank god he didnt bring his stupid knife! Howd you get these cigars?
the bowling ball asked again.

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We actually just found them. Cigars arent illegal to have, just to buy, replied
Rico.
Okay! mustache man continued, I want your names, addresses, and phone
numbers! Quickly thinking on our feet, we all gave the officer the numbers of our older
brothers. Get your parents on the phone! he demanded. I slowly snuck away, changing
my brothers name in my phone to dad while Rico and Gabe occupied the officers. I
called, shakily raising the phone up to my ear. Come on, pick up! Pick up! But there was
no answer. I tried again.
Mmm, wha, huh? asked Anthony in a groggy, sleepy tone.
Ant! Were in trouble! I whispered.
Wha, uhm, wait, wait, what? He replied.
Were at McDonalds. We We snuck out and, uh, well, we got caught by the
cops. Just pretend to be dad, okay? I said eagerly.
Yeah, sure, okay, he replied. I then made my way back to the bowling ball,
handing him the phone.
Yes, Mr. Brutico? I have your kids here. Did you know they were out this late?
Oh, you did? Okay. Do you want me to send them home? Oh, no? Well, I think you
should come pick them up. Okay, thank you! Ill be waiting. The officer hung up the
phone, attempting to then make casual conversation as if he did us a favor. The nerve!
We waited for Anthony to arrive, our backs turned away from the officers with
our arms folded in defiance. All we wanted was to enjoy a late night snack, to celebrate
the last night of summer, and this happens!

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Anthony arrived, strolling up in our dads car. He looked just like Gabe, long
curly brown hair with dark skin. My mom sometimes joked that he was so dark he could
be black. He loved that comment. Anthony greeted the officers with a wide smile on his
face a face an only few weeks over the age of eighteen. A face that lacked even a spec
of facial hair. I never understood how he passed off as our dad, but he did. Upon shaking
hands, the two officers then helped Anthony load the three bikes into the back of my
dads silver Honda Pilot. All three of us squeezed into whatever room the bikes had
permitted.
The smiles, laughs, and jokes that paraded around the car on the way home had
me quickly forget about the pain from the peg sticking in to my back. Some time later, we
dropped Rico off at his gate; a gate that led up to the biggest house Id ever seen. Gabe
and I said our goodbyes, told him to enjoy his vacation, and went on our way. I arrived
home, finally getting the peg out of my back. I wheeled the bike over to shed, tossing it
in. As I closed the doors on the shed, as well as on the summer, I peeked in once more at
my beautiful bike. A perfect ending to an imperfect night.