TWO MICROS by Kelli Short Borges
Kelli Short Borges TWO MICROS Manning Up It was Jack’s birthday and there we were—me, Jack, and Thom, the Three Musketeers, wrestling in the pool while Dad grilled a T-bone, Jack’s favorite, he said (we knew it was really Dad’s, but kept our mouths shut for fear we’d get smacked), and the scent of summer was in the air, a meaty sizzle mixed with suntan oil and bleach-y chlorine, and we were playing “hold ‘em down,” a game Dad invented last year teaching us three to hold our breath underwater, an important skill for boys looking to join the Marines, and Dad sure was a fan, with that old-as-dirt Semper Fi sticker peeling at the edges on his Dodge Ram, and really I didn’t want to be a Marine, and neither did Jack, but Thom sure did, and he was holding Jack down like the puppies Dad took to the … chop! chop! read more!