Bill, Mark and Eddie grew up together. In High School, all three listed each other as best friends in their senior year book. They also listed 'Wild Horses' by the Rolling Stones as their favorite song. All three applied to the Naval Acadamy, only two got in. Mark didn't have the 'right stuff'. I learned all of this one summer while riding to a class for talented students. Bill was a gifted writer. We had never actually spoken prior to this although we went through school together for twelve years. I felt lucky to get the chance to talk with him. He was so nice! I was too terrified to speak to just about anyone in high school. We joked around about being driven to a 'special' class in the 'short' bus. He talked about how excited he was to go to the academy, he loved being on the water. His only regret was that his buddy Mark didn't get in. I knew Mark. He wasn't as bright as Bill and was always a bit chubby, but harmless. Eddie, on the other hand was acidic, slim in a mean way and intimidating but, I thought, if Bill and Mark were his best friends, I must be missing something.
The summer was the hottest one on record, which meant my father would not be leaving the house regularly to go clamming. This meant I had to go home to a house where only he was home, because the older brothers were at work, and the younger ones would intelligently dissapear until Mom came home from work. I was trying to be good. I didn't want to create a reason to anger my father. So after class, I went home. That's when he would speak the softest, that's when he wouldn't punch and hit. I just had to do what he asked, that was all.
As my brothers started to come home the tension would rise. Objects started flying, voices raised, doors slamming. Then, later still seething, he would look for me. Because I was bad.
The next morning always brought the pleasure of the bus ride. It was 27 minutes long if you stopped at all of the lights. Bill was always cheery and talkative. He talked about fishing with Mark and Eddie and how much he was going to miss the three of them hanging out together. Most of the time I just sat and listened and smiled at his happy tanned face.
Then it finally arrived. The last day. Maybe we would exchange numbers. I eagery went to the bus for the return trip and found it empty. It seems the Literary class had a farwell party and would not be going home on the 'short 'bus. I rode home in silence. Sweating and sticking to the vinyl seat. I walked up to my home and looked at the door, knowing I had no place else to go and that I would never see Bill again and went inside.
By the very end of the summer, I had heard that three teenage boys were in a terrible boating accident during a storm. Two had drowned. Bill and Eddie. Mark made it to shore.

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