Chapter 21
“I’m going to visit Matt Zimmerman a few blocks over,” Mr. Truttle called into the basement.
Chuckling, Brian said, “He’ll be gone for hours and come back half-stewed. Mr. Zimmerman makes his own beer.”
Jim put his book on the table, clasped his hands behind his head, and stretched. “I’m glad we don’t drink like the other kids. I don’t like feeling woozy and sure as hell never want to be throwing-up-drunk. Maybe because George drinks so much. I remember Mom arguing with Dad about drinking.”
Brian got that silly smirk on his face that Jim loved.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m not sure I should say it.”
“I’m not a cop yet. I can’t arrest you.”
“You might think less of me.”
“Or more of you.” Jim got up and wrapped his arms around Brian. “The worst I can do is put it o
