Weston Covanger approached the pool in Three Chiefs Park that hadn't been there yesterday. He was thinking about his cousin, Pierson, sawing through a steak that had been cooked to the point of boot leather. Communications were erratic - Pierson had one job -

Even if you couldn't get booted from the study, Weston hadn't been so preoccupied with his own successes to see how quiet, how nervous Pierson was, his cousin practically had one foot out the door -

He couldn't imagine the shame -

Moving through the crowd that had gathered Weston felt the pressure, the tumbling thoughts as he strained to come up with a way to not just avoid his cousin's fate, but to make his position as the families rising star permanent - unquestioned.

It was a heavy pride that rested on his head. His family was counting on him.

The pool wasn't for swimming, that was obvious because a person was standing on the water, undulating like it was a waterbed, not a liquid at all. Weston placed his hands on the surface, but couldn't break through for all it was smooth and flowing, it felt cool. He stood up and walked around the pool, looking for any explanation of its purpose, weaving through the gathered crowd and listening to their hushed conversations:

"Last night, or this morning, Annie saw it on her jog, or rather Buster did; he's a Lab, a real water dog and I bet you can guess - except he couldn't, and boy was he surprised! He walked on water! Of course a pupper would, all dogs go to heaven!"

There was no laughter. The people nodded, stared with beatific smiles full of wonder. A few had their shoes off and were taking deep breaths, whispered words with bowed heads, others stood more cautiously - skeptically but quiet, unsure -

"Lord, I am faithful to you, buoyant by belief alone, to float on faith." A bald, portly man said, hat held between his hands, he was obviously nervous. A woman, probably his wife, unlaced his shoes. Weston realized he was about to step out - "To walk upon this holy water, this Sea of Galilee you've provided, to demonstrate the faith we have in you..."

"To think I'd live to see such miracles." An elderly woman whispered in reverence, dabbing her eye with a handkerchief as another man stepped onto the glowing water and didn't sink - his face turned up to the sky, he began to weep.

People applauded, cheered. Raised their hands up in a hug to the sky -

'Tithe with money, not your mind.' Weston had never doubted Grandpappy's words, that Covanger's had their own 'faith' and Grandpappy obviously believed religion was for the cattle...

Yet Weston couldn't deny that these events were unprecedented. A stone structure appearing with a fountain of water - it was more than strange. That the water had been the best ever tasted, he'd drank it and felt refreshed, but not really different...as other people were reporting, making strange claims, but as he looked at these people? People were walking on water...the middle of a pool, the same gray stone as the fountain -

One man with long hair twisted into dreads, sitting cross legged, had hands cupped on his knees and three lit candles in front of him - "It's a faith in humanity. You can feel it resonate, the healing energy - the frequency of it; pyrite, soothing. Beautiful. Once you awaken your mind you can feel the holistic value, the natural power-"

The splash was so sudden, Weston jumped - everybody did, gasping, swinging their eyes, various expressions of shock but primarily - who wasn't worthy? Who sank?

-Splash-

-Splash-

It was three guys from school; Gage, Chase and Hunter, and they were...throwing garbage in the water! A broken microwave, a rusty car battery. A garbage bag that ripped open causing beer cans and bottles to scattered out over the surface before sliding beneath the surface.

-Splash-

The gathered people started shouting all at once, the man with dreadlocks jumping up with hands now out like stop signs, a candle sent spinning -"Friends! Friends! Please!"

"Call the police!"

"I never! Youth these days!"

But the most surprised expressions belonged to the three, as though they'd been backing their truck up, felt a bump along with a loud *meow* - now the neighbor kids were running over, 'Kitty, kitty, kitty!'

"Pardon us, folk." Gage said, face covered with stubble, a dip of tobacco pushing up the corner of his lip and giving his concerned expression a forced half-grin - he'd pulled off his truckers hat to reveal thick, messy hair that looked even darker with sweat - his eyes were wide and innocent as a calves as he faced the crowd -

"Just what do you think you're doing!?" The bald man shouted, sliding one hand over his head with a look of horror, pointing at the pool with the other -

"Scrappin." Gage whispered, all three of the boys had that deer in headlights expression as their glances darted between each other and to the hostile crowd - a crowd ready to attack. The elderly woman had pulled out a bottle of pepper spray -

-plink-plink-plink-

Weston turned to the soft sound and saw marbles, sparkly marbles had appeared on top of the pool, somebody gasped and pointed. The people turned to see, watched the orbs roll over the ripples as though guided by hidden magnets. They stopped at the rim of the pool next to Gage, he bent down and picked them up.

Weston gaped. What? It's some sort of recycl-

"An offering pool." The dreaded man whispered, bowing to the pool - his face still looked as though he was forcing it to remain calm, but as he took in the three 'scrappers' again, their rough clothing, the dirt of their labor, his face softened - "Those with the least give the most...for who are we to judge the gifts of others when we have not given anything of ourselves."

There was a soft exhale from the crowd as they looked again at the three young men, the first apology was soft, guilty - but the murmur spread to more mouths and in intensity, the elderly woman darted forward, trying to hug them, forcing peppermints into their hands.

But Weston was watching the others, the ones that were walking on - well, it was a dumpster, wasn't it? With faces wet with tears and full of misplaced faith? He expected them to look humiliated, ashamed for believing they'd passed some test when in reality they were playing in a landfill - they didn't even blink, instead they dropped possessions from their pockets, cell phones, jewelry - as though that had been their purpose the entire time.

The dreadlock man pulled off a glinting ring, tossed it in the pool -

-plink-plink-plink-plink-

"That musta been at least twenty pure." Hunter whispered, eyes wide, as they inched back toward their truck, the crowd focused now on dropping in their valuables and collecting marbles -

It was almost terrifying, not just because of the peoples behavior, but how quickly this group of people had filled Weston with a sliver of doubt - if he hadn't been prepared, trained? Now the scene reminded Weston of his cows - more words of wisdom:

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

'Know your herd. Cows. People. Know them by name. Know them the same.'

Weston followed the three to ask how they had known, they were grabbing another load from the back of a beat-up truck, Hunter spinning around with arms full, eyed him. A glance that seemed to take in Weston's hard part hair-cut, smooth, shaved face, his fine clothes and calfskin boots. Hunter moved past with a small snort.

Instead of even blinking, Weston stepped to the tailgate and grabbed a broken box tv from the truck -

'Want respect. Work for it.'

Gage paused, seeing the muddy tv in his arms, but Weston was already turning around, walking, then dumping the tv in and going back for something else. Because Weston had remembered what he knew about these three, recalled it was usually four.

Hickory.

"See." Hunter said, "It's the metals that do the best. Did you see how many that lady got for dropping that cell phone in? And then her friend just got one for her earring, did you see her face? I bet it was fake, I bet she's gonna have her husbands balls."

"Nah, diamonds just ain't worth shit. They're just rocks." Chase said, brushing his hands off after slamming the tailgate.

Weston had already got what he needed, and Hunter was still giving him a dirty look so he turned -

"I reckon we're scrappin' down past the mini-mart, right off the overpass." Gage said, tossing him a marble and Weston caught it, a tip? His share? For his help? He felt the marble in his hand, it felt...strange. Maybe heavier then it should have been, like when you hold something well made, it had that solid quality, like it was built to last, valuable.

He almost tossed it back to them, he didn't want their money, and it wasn't nearly as valuable as what they'd already given him - information, not even if the marble was made of solid gold that he'd trade it for what he had already learned...

What else did they know?

Gage just grinned at him, Chased stared at Weston's truck, admiring the long bed, the offload tires. Hunter was just tapping his chew can, about to put a dip in, looking in the distance and scratching behind his ear.

Weston almost asked, if they'd seen Hickory? But of course they had, if they knew the purpose of this pool -

'Tell them what you need and pay double. Offer what they need, and pay attention.'

"I got a better spot." Weston said.

So Weston Covanger, who's family owned most of this town, and just about everything west of it past the next, got into his truck, the rims, alone, were worth more than the pickup that followed behind him; - and went 'scrappin' with the boys.

Leading them to his new property where a pile of old metal fencing was being replaced by his workers; this was to be his home, it still felt strange - that he'd be living alone and not even out of Highschool, now that his position in the Covanger Trust had been officiated. Accelerated.

"Jackpot!" Hunter whistled, and his distrustful look from earlier had melted away as they loaded up their trucks.

There was plenty of metal - and Weston had been paying money, to have it pulled and disposed. Now it was loaded for free by eager, grateful faces - he had to hide his smirk.

It was hard work - it surprised him, that his body felt like he'd been in the gym for hours, he was covered in sweat, he was itching. He saw the others sweating, too, but not flagging - they wore loose shirts like they always did, but Weston was suddenly sure, that not even Chase's wider frame had much fat beneath the flannel.

When they took a break Gage pulled out a six pack of beer bottles from his truck, passing them all one. The beer was cheap, less then a buck each, bottom shelf 'Millhouse Extra' yet somehow - somehow, it was the best beer Weston had in months...

They sat in the grass, under the shade of an old oak overlooking the bend of the river that bordered his property - the guys were talking.

"I'm tellin ya." Hunter said, "These are what it's all going to, just you wait and see, we're gonna be rich!"

"Ya can't buy anything with 'em, Maybel almost wouldn't sell Gage the beer cause she thought you were already drunk! Trying to pay for beer with marbles..." Chase shook his head.

"She just can't feel it, she ain't drunk." Hunter said.

"Stop sayin it like that, you dolt. That's why they think you're drunk. Say 'Drank of the Font,' like May does." Chase said.

Weston felt the guys shift, their eyes seemed to brush over him as he took a sip of beer, the other three drank with him, then seemed to relax.

And suddenly - suddenly - Weston realized that he wasn't the only one doing 'research'. That it was so easy to miss it because it was so natural, not hidden but just cautious. He realized that these boys, friends, of Hickory, had been weighing him -

They were feeling him out, watching out for their interests, their friend's. Making sure they weren't being disloyal - and Weston felt that by remaining silent when May came up he had passed, felt it as they leaned back, because now he wasn't sitting next to them, he was sitting with them.

They are not stupid.

'Think you've found a fool? Make sure it's not a mirror.' Weston imagined a slap of chastisement from Grandpappy's words.

"I ain't sayin it like that, like how a woman would." Gage said with a frown.

"Close enough." And then Hunter and Gage were fighting, Weston heard the thick thumps, like meat being tenderized, aimed at each others chest, stomach and - the blows were quick, quick, quick - and then done.

They pulled back, and besides some new grass stains on old jeans, Hunter's eyes a bit shiny, Gage's beer suddenly spraying foam - you wouldn't know the fury that had descended because Chase just yawned.

Gage locked his mouth over the top of the bottle to keep the foam from spilling a drop, taking quick gulps.

"See." Hunter whispered, and Gage snorted, coughing - foamy beer shot out of his nose, his mouth in a mess, and then all of them were laughing, rolling on the ground, holding their sides. How good it felt...how strange - how stupid...

When they sat up, all eyes wet and matched in mirth, Gage had popped the cap from another bottle and held out his fist. There were three straws of grass in his rough knuckles.

What?

Hunter reached and snagged one first and almost broke it pulling because Gage held his fist tight - "Ya fucker, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He laughed and Gage released his grip with a grunt and Hunter held up the straw with a gloating smile like it was made of gold, "Yes!"

Then the fist, the two straws were in front of Weston so he reached and grabbed one pulling it free but he didn't know what he was looking for - "Ha!" Hunter shouted, pushing the straws together, comparing, "Bet it ain't the only thing I got bigger en yours."

They laughed.

What? They were...they were making fun of him? Joking? And yet he'd laughed, laughed when it wasn't at him, but this was different -

Weston took a low breath, felt his thumb kiss the gold ring on his right hand, circled the crested band of it - and the laughter slowed. And this - this was important, because this - this was dominance.

'We bury our enemies.'

And Weston, he was a Covanger, and these - and it was his pride, he wore it like a crown, he could feel it -

That pressure.

And he knew if he was going to fight, there could be only one result - he couldn't hit like Gage and Hunter, he couldn't stop there, let them think he was weak, there could be no doubt to his strength.

But if Grandfather had him 'Drink?' Wasn't this implied, too? To do anything it took, to learn - Even if it cost him his pride - Even if it cost him May? What was more important? His pride? Or his families? Wasn't it the same?

He had a face for every situation and this one was learned from his Grandfather. Dead serious, more dangerous then a revolver, hammer cocked and cold, barrel just a dark tunnel, trigger weight set to half a pound, six Remington rounds bright and ready -

It was just seconds since the words had left Hunter's mouth, and Weston heard them echo - 'I bet it ain't the only thing I got bigger en yours...'

The laughter was a ghost as he aimed his cold Covanger eyes at Hunter's head, and fired, "Seeing where we're at, and the company, I bet you're right. I bet you owe Gage a pardon."

They focused on him, and Weston stayed ready - saw them replaying the words and then Hunter looked at Gage, his eyes bulged, his sudden laughter burst wide and wild, louder than what the joke warranted. But Weston's laughter did, too - as Weston threw the straw and Chase joined in. Even Gage almost chuckled, his eyes, half a grin, or was it just the tobacco?

I'll play - my families pride sits highest, for what's really important, I'll play -

Hunter had won the extra beer, had the 'longest straw' - apparently that was the purpose. Weston hid his surprise and at first thought the whole thing was childish, dangerous, even - for his goals to almost be subverted by something that cost less than a buck. But most of Weston's thoughts were on what had changed...

That crown of pride, his pride - that pressure. There was more to it - he could feel it there, couldn't he?

And that it felt very similar to the marble that was in his pocket - to the water of the fountain - just more...What did it mean? Was it just his imagination?

But it wasn't the only thing Weston was confused about - thinking about the straws, seeing Hunter's face as he popped open that cheap beer - he had a smile like Weston himself had worn privately, had hid, there at the Covanger dinner - because for him to reveal a smile like that, to openly gloat?

Weston still had the picture on his phone. Blood red lipstick on his cheek. They couldn't not see it, the rest of the family.

Hunter wore that wide toothy achievement for a beer - and Weston suddenly felt there was a very big part of life he didn't understand, was missing - that had to do with straws of grass, friends punching each others ribs like steak, then smiling though wet pain and joking again seconds later - seeing Gage grinning at him in the reflection of a cheap, ice cold bottle of beer on a hot day covered in sweat.

And somehow it made Weston afraid.