[This is a sample chapter from The Amazing
Adventures of Hobb ‘n Dobbs, Book 1: The Mysterious Submariners By Kyote King (A.K.A. Gary Lee Parker)]
Chapter
1
Jason Hobb
and Justin Dobbs. The two are inseparable. Have been ever since the first grade
when Miss Clarissa, the elegantly bewitching music teacher at Creekside
Elementary School, kept the boys after class for tutoring. It seems the boys
had fallen behind in their fidicinal education after losing a recent boxing
match with the Chicken Pox.
Had they
known they were to have the musical beauty all to themselves for a whole hour,
three days in a row, they may have been tempted to intentionally catch the
nasty little virus themselves. Some of us still wonder if they didn't.
Anyway,
both agreed (from beneath a thick layer of calamine lotion) it was worth it.
And both still play the violin. Just the electric variety.
*****
On Dobbs'
thirteenth birthday Hobb burst through the heavily worn oak door of the Dobbs
residence like a hurricane, his dog, Jack, fast on his heels. The sudden shift
in air pressure ruffled the curtains over the windows scattering shafts of
morning sunlight across the room like the hazy light-show at a Madd Hadder
concert.
“Justin,
I've got an idea!” he said, like this was some novel event in his day. Truth be
told, if there was anything Hobb could always be counted on, it was an idea.
The dreamer beneath his short, dark mess of hair kept churning out new schemes
and fantastic ideas at a frightening pace. Sometimes when Dobbs was bored he
would pick a subject at random from the objects lying about – an old magazine,
or an item on a shelf – and sneak the thought into conversation just to watch
the brilliance of Hobb's brooding mind unfold. Entertainment.
“Whatcha
got?” said Dobbs, half in question and half in statement. Slumped sideways in
an oversized easy-chair, his legs dangled in the air like stumps bent by a
strong wind, proving too much a temptation for the border collie who
immediately began nipping at the wiggling toes and licking the ticklish space
in the hollows of his feet.
Laughing
and kicking harmlessly at the mutt, Dobbs pulled himself up and tucked his
besieged feet into the deep folds in the corner of the chair for safety,
setting his book – his favorite author's latest adventure novel – on the
family's wide driftwood coffee table.
“You know
how we can't hang out anywhere without somebody,”
here Hobb threw a sideways sneer in the general direction of Dobbs' sisters'
rooms, “interrupting us?”
“Yeah?”
said Dobbs. It had been a burr under the boy's saddles all summer long, and the
pair frequently ranted about the constant irritation, but had as yet done
nothing about it but complain.
“Well, I
think we need to build a clubhouse!” he said, then added hurriedly, “A real clubhouse,
in a tree, with a retractable ladder and electricity and wi-fi and everything.”
The Madd
Hadder was the boy's favorite band and Dobbs had their latest album playing on
his MP3 docking station on the mantle. The band's trademark drumbeat and lush
guitar sounds washed through the room like an insistence, reinforcing the
urgency in Hobb's voice.
“Oh, happy
birthday, by the way,” he added, tossing a small wrapped package at his best
friend's fiery red head.
Dobbs
easily snagged the projectile out of the air just before impact. He'd been the
receiver on their middle school's football team for the last two years, and was
good. Very good.
“Thanks,
Jason,” he said, tearing at the perfectly folded paper to get at the gift
inside.
Opening the
small box under the paper, he pulled out a fancy pair of orange swimming
goggles and held them up to the light for inspection. It was a nice pair, and
probably set his friend back a full month's allowance. He looked up
quizzically.
“That's
part one,” said Hobb. “Part two is where we head out to the hole for a swim;
see if we can't find us some pirate's treasure under the waves.”
By “the
hole” Hobb meant the small inlet in the deep woods on the black waters of the
Pacific Northwest's Puget Sound where the boys had been sneaking off for summer
swimming as long as they could recall.
Two weeks
out from the new school year they were both feeling the familiar pressure to
cram as much summer fun into their final few days of freedom as possible, and a
swim in the hole fit that bill nicely. At its mention Dobbs bounded from his
easy chair and disappeared down the hallway.
When he
emerged a moment later his frayed orange hand-me-down swim trunks were hanging
out of his shorts and he had a towel draped lackadaisically over his stout
shoulders. Somewhere in the mess he'd found a pair of running shoes and a
mostly-clean pair of blue ankle socks which he quickly crammed his feet into,
then said, “Ready when you are.”
“Ready for
what?” came a squeaky high-pitched and insistent voice. The boys looked up to
find one of Dobbs' two little sisters, Jessie, standing in the doorway with her
fists locked to her hips like a tense mother on the verge of losing a fraying
temper. Her cropped bright-red curls blazed, adding to the effect. She was
nothing if not precocious.
Jessica was
the older of his sisters, and Dobbs had a close bond with the little upstart.
He had protected her for years, to her constant consternation. But she admired
him for it, though she'd never admit as much to Dobbs.
“Going
swimming?” She eyed the towel and trunks suspiciously, like a budding Sherlock
Holmes.
“Maybe,”
said Dobbs. He loved his little sis, and wouldn't lie to her. But he didn't
want her tagging along either. She was an adorable pest, but at ten years old
she was still a pest. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” she
said sternly, turning her nose toward the ceiling with a haughty snub. “I'm trying to watch tee-vee, and your music
is interrupting me.” She sneered the word music, as though exasperated by the
notion anyone would deign to classify such noise with the term.
Dobbs
snatched the music player from it's stand and wound the ear-buds around it,
then shoved it in one of his pockets.
“Problem
solved, and the house is all yours,” he said with an exaggerated smile and a
low bow. He was just glad he didn't have to figure out a way to ditch the girl
without hurting her feelings.
Hearing the
pronouncement, Jessie twirled on her heels and stalked down the hallway toward
the cluttered family room, never taking her hands from her little swaggering
hips. Harrumph.
Hobb's dog,
Jack, disappeared down the hall behind her, apparently opting for an afternoon
of cuddling and relaxation in the cool house with the young girl over a hot day
tromping through the woods.
That's loyalty for you, thought Hobb,
laughing to himself.
“You got
grub?” asked Dobbs a few moments later as they slipped through the hole in the
back fence and into the dark woods beyond.
“I've got
better than that,” said Hobb. “I've got birthday cake! And I got you a bottle
of a new cola I found on the peninsula the other day. I tried it; you'll love
it.”
“Sweet!”
said Dobbs. Dobbs’ love of specialty colas was only outdone by his love of
football, and he was always on the lookout for new varieties to add to his
collection of empties.
He would
never get to eat the cake, though he had to admit later, the cola was delicious.
*****