[ WP ] Since you were a kid , you and your best friend harbored a dark secret . You 're an adult now , and it 's all about to come out in the open .

Friday nights, a beer, good music on the radio. It's been like this for ten years now. Before that, it was ice-cold Coca-Cola on ma's front porch. Before that - hell, I ca n't even remember. That's what it's like with someone you've known your entire life. The remembrances go further and further back, fogged up in more and more of a haze until there's just flashes of memory that may or may not be real. But some memories stay crisp and clear, no matter how far back you go. 
 
 `` Life's pretty good, ai n't it?'' 
 
 `` Hell yeah,'' says James. 
 
 `` Mom says you ai n't supposed to say hell,'' says James' son Peter, a Coca-Cola in his hand. He's curled up on the swing, watching us in wide-eyed wonder. 
 
 `` Well, H - E - double hockeysticks yeah,'' says James, and his boy gives him a grin. 
 
 `` Hey, kid, what are you now?'' I ask. `` Seventeen, eighteen? Gon na get a real job one of these days, right? Stop sponging off your old man here?'' 
 
 Peter lets out a little-boy laugh. `` I'm only eleven!'' he says. 
 
 `` Eleven?'' I bark, sending him into an even bigger fit of giggles. I've known this kid since the day he was born and I've never failed to make him laugh. 
 
 I love him more than some kids related to me by blood. But truth be told, he unsettles me sometimes. 
 
 I never really understood why. Not until this year, when he started putting on the inches and his hair darkened from pale blonde to wheat-brown. As he sat there, legs curled up beneath him, the smile drifted from my face. 
 
 `` Hell, James, do you remember Dougie?'' I ask, ignoring Peter's protest at my use of the forbidden word. 
 
 `` Dougie? Shit.'' There's an even bigger gasp from our child audience. `` I have n't heard that name in years, Frank.'' 
 
 `` But you think about him, do n't you? I do - all the damned time.'' 
 
 `` Who's Dougie?'' asked Peter. Kid never misses a thing. 
 
 `` Ah... well. He's your uncle. Or was your uncle, I should say. My older brother. He died when me and Frank here were... what was it?'' 
 
 `` Eleven for me. You were still ten. Happened a few months before your birthday.'' 
 
 `` Yeah. Right.'' James took a long sip of his beer, tilting his head upwards until it was completely illuminated by the deep yellow of the porch light. 
 
 `` Well, what happened to him?'' asked Peter. He knew a little bit about death. More than most kids - that's the sort of thing that happens when you grow up in the country. Fortunately, not as much as some. 
 
 The three of us were silent for a long moment. We had talked about the incident a lot over the years, but in decades' worth of Friday nights there was one thing that James and I had never spoken of. I sat up a little straighter. 
 
 `` I'll tell you. But maybe you should n't say anything to your mom about it, okay? Do n't know if this is the kind of story she'd like you to hear.'' 
 
 `` I wo n't say a thing!'' Peter sat up straighter too, unconsciously mimicking my actions. 
 
 `` All right. So Dougie was a few years older than us. And he was mean - I mean, you'll never meet a nastier kid.'' 
 
 `` Frank... I do n't know if we should...'' 
 
 `` He can handle it,'' I say, reaching for another beer from the cooler. `` Now listen, Pete, your old man here is too nice to speak ill of the dead, but I've never hated anyone as much as I hated Dougie. Ended up with my fair share of cuts and bruises because of him. As for your dad...'' 
 
 `` My older brother was a bastard. Let's just leave it at that,'' says James. 
 
 `` Right. So the older he got, the bigger and meaner he got. I mean, he was just a piss-ant looking back, but to us back then he was a real monster. My mom used to come running over here every time I went home all banged up but it never did any good. My dad would call your Grandpa Kirk and it was all, boys will be boys, let the little ones learn how to toughen up, ai n't nobody going to be there to stop the bullies once they make it into the real world...'' 
 
 Peter nodded along, his now-empty Coke bottle still clutched in his hands. He'd heard enough about his grandpa that this was n't much of a surprise. 
 
 `` So Dougie just kept getting meaner. Now, about the time that everything happened, the neighbor a few houses over moved across the county, and they left behind a bunch of animals. Some hens, cats, - ca n't remember what else - and then there was this dog. Only animal I've ever come across that was meaner than Dougie. We learned pretty quick to run like hell if we heard him barking. He terrorized the block for months. Then one day that old damned dog just up and disappeared.'' 
 
 `` We all hoped the damn thing had died. He was half-starved so it was a wonder he did n't.'' James reached over and ruffled Peter's hair. 
 
 `` Yeah. But then one day when we were walking home from school we hear that asshole barking. Should have run, but there was something pitiful about it, so we decide to go investigate. Now, we go around the back of that old house and there's Dougie - handful of rocks, egging this damned dog on. Do n't know how the hell he did it, but he's got him tied up to the back porch, whipping these rocks at him. Must've been at it for a while - days - because this dog's just beat up to hell. And his flank was all covered in...'' 
 
 `` Hey, reign it in a bit. He does n't need to hear all the details,'' said James. 
 
 `` Ah, yeah, right.'' I shake my head. `` So we watch for a little while, and Dougie finally takes off. And I do n't know what possessed me to do it, but I decided we had to do something about that poor dog. He may have been mean as hell, but he was still just some poor dumb animal. So I take out my pocketknife and tell your old man to distract him - thinking maybe if I cut the rope enough the dog would be able to run away.'' 
 
 I think back to that afternoon - the haze of the summer sun and the fat horseflies buzzing around us, drawn by the scent of blood and the dog's dying flesh - and it's still as clear now as my mind was that afternoon so many years ago. 
 
 `` No. I ai n't gon na lie. I knew what I was doing. I just did n't think everything would turn out the way it did. You know... I figured it would serve Dougie right to get bit by that old bastard. Let a mean, ugly creature learn his lesson from a creature that's even meaner and uglier. But the next day when your grandma called asking if we'd seen Dougie, I knew exactly what had happened.'' 
 
 Silence falls over the three of us. Friday nights, cold beer. Back when we were just kids, it used to be ice-cold Coca-Cola. I remember the two of us sitting there in our funeral black. It passed between us without a word that we'd never talk about what happened that day. 
 
 `` You're a good kid, Peter.'' I raise my beer toward him. `` But you look just like Dougie. It's the damnedest thing.'' 
 
 `` Do n't think you're s'posed to say the d-word,'' says Peter. His face is pale, eyes wide. I wonder what he's thinking right now. I wonder what memories will remain crystal-clear in his own mind, ten, twenty years from now.
