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
“That’s not the only thing that’s ludicrous,” Corey mumbles.
“Kid!” Bear calls from the kitchen.
“What?”
“Otter and I are heading out. We have some… stuff… to go pick up… at the bank… store. Have fun with your birthday lunch.”
“That was really subtle,” I hear Otter say to Bear. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than bank store?”
“I’m an honest person,” Bear retorts. “It’s hard for me to make up lies.”
“You liar. I love you.”
“Gross. I love you too.”
Then there’s the sounds of kissing. “God, that’s all you guys do!” I groan loudly. “Go suck face in the car.”
Otter laughs. “What do you think, baby? We too old to go park somewhere and suck face?”
“Your back will start to hurt,” Bear says.
“Ah, romance,” Otter says, and then the door closes behind them.
“Can I go watch if they park and suck face?” Corey asks me.
“Yes, please leave,” I tell him. “That would make my life so much simpler. And this fixation you have on my brother and Otter is really unhealthy. They’re related to me. And old.”
“Can you imagine what it’s going to be like seeing Otter holding a baby?” he asks. “My God, if I didn’t have a daddy kink before, I sure as hell will now. He’s going to be a total DILF.”
“What’s a DILF?”
“Dad I’d Like to Fu—”
“Don’t you dare finish that.”
“Fuck,” he says.
The computer chimes. Incoming Skype call. “He’s early,” Corey says as he connects to the call.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when the window opens up. I know that he’s a drag queen and doesn’t always wear outrageous costumes that I’ve only heard Corey describe, but I can’t help but be disappointed when I’m looking at a thin-looking man named Sandy instead of a fiery diva named Helena Handbasket. Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute in a sort of bookish way, sitting with his legs curled underneath him on what looks to be a very expensive couch. His hair is blond and short and his face is almost gaunt, but from the stories Corey has told me, apparently his personality is a complete reversal when he’s performing. It sounds amazing.
“Baby doll!” Sandy says warmly to Corey. His voice is slightly deeper than I would have expected. “It’s good to see your pretty face.”
“Hi, Sandy,” Corey says. “How’s tricks?”
He chuckles, and it’s a throaty sound, and I wonder if there’s a little bit of Helena in it. “Turning left and right,” he promises. He glances over. “Oh, are you babysitting? Where’s your friend Tyson?”
“Babysitting?” I say, outraged.
“This is Ty,” Corey says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and squishing my face with his hand. “He just looks like jailbait.”
“My word,” Sandy says with a purr. “The boys just must be all over you. Honey, you should seriously consider just tattooing ‘twink’ across your forehead and ‘open for business’ across your ass. It’d save you a lot of trouble.”