The Last Last Day Of Summer

The boys worked together unsticking their bikes from the corner of Grandma’s porch, and at first, the pedals and wheels wouldn’t turn. They kept at it, though, balancing on the unmoving wheels, falling sideways. After a few false starts, the spokes spun, and the chains whizzed, and they began their ride into town like they did when it was time to buy new comic books, or when the mayor called them to wrangle a peeved-off jackalope.

Immediately the differences in that day’s ride were noticeable. There were none of the usual sounds. No breeze rustling the poplar trees. No crickets chirping. Only the
thwump-thwump-thwump of their bike tires rotating on frozen, unmoving gravel.
“I bet you wish we’d stayed in bed now.” Sheed pumped his pedals faster.
“I kind of wish you had.” Gravel turned to pale gray asphalt as they came to the
main road and sped past the fancy wooden WELCOME TO FRY, VIRGINIA sign. They passed the Logan County Gazette office, where the newspaper editor, Ms. Turner, hunched over her keyboard, index fingers in pecking position.

Outside Dr. Medinas Wild Animal Hospital, Mr. Reynolds, the mailman, was frozen in midair, both knees raised like he was leaping a fence and his mouth stretched in a yell.
The boys slowed. The hospital’s door was ajar. Dr. Medina hunched forward, her hands grabbing for something. Otto and Sheed came to a full stop, then walked their bikes closer for a better view. “Ohhh!” both boys said. A large python had slipped from its cage. Its triangular, speckled head angled up, jaws wide, stuck mid-hiss just inches from Mr. Reynolds’s toes. So, a typical day at Dr. Media’s. The boys moved along.

Their path took them past frozen everything: cars and people and birds above, hung in permanent V-formation. They rode on to Town Square, where they parked their
bikes next to the bronze statue of Fry’s founder, Fullerton French Fryer. Craning their necks, they peered up at the dusty orange bricks of city hall, to the tall clock tower that marked the time at exactly 10:04. ‘There were a few townsfolk stuck in the square with them.

All held cell phones to their ears or extended in front of them while they tapped at some app or another. Sheed pried one from a guy who said, “Hey!” Sheed checked it, no service–or really any functions at all, the screen was black. He returned it to the man’s hand.
The phone’s owner said, “Thank you.” Sheed’s gaze bounced from Otto to the clock, back to
Otto again. Otto sighed. Might as well get this over with. “Go ahead.”
“Here’s what I think.” Sheed was growly and grumpy. “I think you had to go tempting whatever it is about this county that keeps us so fricking busy. You got your wish.
We froze time.”

“Yes, we did.” Just as he’d suspected. He would not give Sheed the satisfaction of agreeing with any of those other observations, though he did note the confirmation in his pad.
Entry #36
We froze time.