Contents ( 42)
- The Art of Breathing
- Part One: How We Became Who We Are
- Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
- 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
- 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
- 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
- 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
- Part Two: Coming Home
- 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
- 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
- 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
- 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
- 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
- 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
- 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
- 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
- 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
- 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
- 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
- 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
- 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
- Part Three: Just Breathe
- 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
- 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
- 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
- 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
- 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
- 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
- 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
- 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
- 28. Where Tyson Breathes
- 29. Tyson And Dominic
- 30. The Art Of Breathing
- Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
- Author’s Note
- Excerpt
- Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
- More from TJ Klune
- Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
- By TJ Klune
“What?”
“A nondairy creamer.” I burst out laughing because it’s fucking hysterical.
“I don’t get it,” he says, staring at me like I’m the weird one.
I sigh. “They don’t eat anything that has a face.”
He grimaces. “Well, when you put it like that. But isn’t that vegetarianism?”
I am horrified. “No! My God, there’s a huge difference. For one, vegetarians don’t—”
“Oh, wow!” Corey says, his eyes going wide.
“What?”
“I just realized I don’t care about what you’re saying at all. This sure is awkward. Well, it will be if you decide to keep talking.”
I shake my head. “Hell is going to be a very sad place for you, my friend.”
“Of course you’d keep talking,” he says. “Can we please finish planning for our trip? The rate we’re going, you’ll still be talking when we’re supposed to leave.”
“That’s still two weeks away!”
“I know,” he says. “But you’d still be talking, trust me. It’s part of the McKenna legacy. You can’t hide it, even if you’re a Thompson now.”
I look back down on the directions I pulled up on Google Maps. Seafare to Tucson, Arizona. Fifteen hundred miles. Driving from the ocean to the middle of the desert in the middle of summer. Yeah, I know. It sounds awful, doesn’t it? Ah, the things I do for my friends.
“It says it’s 105 degrees today,” I tell Corey.
“Yeah, that’s pretty good for June.”
“That’s pretty good? Are you out of your damn mind? No one should live in a place like that!”
He laughs. “You people from the coasts are such whiny little bitches. It’s just a little heat.”
“You just said you were freezing and it’s sixty degrees out,” I remind him.
“Hypocrisy is a double-edged sword. Can we finish this, please? We don’t have a lot of time before you have to go get ready for your date.”
“It’s not a date!”
“Oh please,” Corey says. “The man volunteered to come and whisk you away from the house under the guise of taking you out to lunch so we could decorate for your surprise birthday party that you’re not supposed to know anything about. He practically jumped at the chance. The only other time I’ve seen anything act as quick is a dog salivating for a bone.”
“Two things: One, that was dirty and you should be ashamed of yourself. Two, I’ve already attempted to go down that road and it ended with nothing but disaster, so we’re curbing that permanently.”
“When in the history of God’s green earth did you ever attempt to go down that road?” he asks me. “As I see it, he kissed a girl, you said you were moving away, he married said girl, and then you hid for four years. Oh, and then there was the little matter of you being underage the whole time he knew you. What’d you think he’d do? Pop your cherry at your sweet sixteen?”
“No, of course not. Because that’d be ludicrous.” Actually, I did think that for quite some time. I’m pretty sure that’s all I masturbated to for the entire time I was fifteen years old.