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
“A two-legged dog?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Named Wheels.”
“Right.”
“I need to meet Paul,” I tell Kori. “Like, now. Any man that picks a disabled dog on purpose has to be an amazing human being.”
“Oh,” Sandy says, “that’s right! Kori told me you were a hippie.”
“I don’t think I said it quite like that,” Kori says hurriedly.
“Yes, you did,” Sandy says. “What was it you said? I truly enjoyed it. Ah, yes! You said Tyson was a left-wing vegetarian hippie twink one step away from blowing up animal-testing labs and SeaWorld all for the sake of saving what he calls his animal companions.” He squints his eyes at me. “He doesn’t look like a hippie, though. He looks like he should be on some college gay-for-pay site.”
“Oh no,” Kori groans, covering her face.
“Hippie?” I exclaim angrily. “I’m not a goddamn hippie! And the orcas at SeaWorld are forced into tiny tanks and brutally beaten and underfed to teach them tricks to perform for some obese family from Ohio on vacation who eat deep-fried Oreos covered in bacon gravy while not even concerned that their entertainment is being tortured!”
“Tyson’s a little… vocal… when it comes to his convictions,” Dom says.
“That’s an understatement, sex giant,” Sandy says, eyes wide. “Holy PETA brainwash, Batman.”
“I’m not a hippie,” I mutter.
“Kind of a hippie,” Kori says. “But in a good way.”
“There’s no good way to be a hippie,” I tell her. “Especially beach hippies.”
“We had some problems with beach hippies,” Kori tells Sandy. “They didn’t know how to chant and threw rocks into windows.”
“Goddamn beach hippies!” Apparently, I’m still not over that.
“I had to arrest these two,” Dom tells Sandy.
“Did you?” Helena Handbasket purrs. “In uniform and with handcuffs? Those lucky little bastards.”
“It wasn’t as much fun as it sounds,” I point out. “The cuffs hurt.”
“That’s how you know you’re having a little fun,” Dom says with a wink, and I can do nothing but gape at him, because I want to know who this man is and what he’s done with my big, silent, stoic Dominic.
“You’ll meet Paul and Vince tomorrow for Saturday brunch,” Sandy says. “We figured we’d give you a bit to get settled in.”
“You have enough rooms?” Dom asks. “We can get a hotel.”
“A hotel?” Sandy asks. “Of course not. We’ll just have to bunk up a bit. But since we’re all such good friends, I don’t think that’s an issue, do you?” He smiles at Kori. “You’ll be in my bed, darling, but don’t get any ideas. I’ve given my heart to Jesus.”
“Poor Jesus,” Kori says.
“Mouthy little bitch,” Sandy says. “And as for you two, you’ll be in the spare bedroom. It’s really small, but the Realtor described it to me as cozy when I bought the place, and since I was trying to get in his pants, I didn’t mind.”
“Both of us?” I ask, my voice high-pitched. “Are there two beds?”