I awoke to find that Charles had gone in the early morn. His replacement came with a knock at the door. It was Nick. He was perused by a mob of nice ladies because he had ridden his moped over, and the thing was an intense chick magnet. There were so many ladies, Nick had to actually beat them away with a thick wooden stick, just to ride up to the property.
Now we had me, the brains of the operation, Nick, the handsome lady-killer with the moped, and Gabin, the not-so-brainy-or-handsome one. We tracked back to the park, and the barranca next to it, to find that the raft had been moved up from the lowest point in the sloped barranca, to the highest point, right next to the wooden fence. Questions were immediately sparked:
“Who do you think dragged this up here?”
“Did they see us throw it down last night?”
“How many people do you think dragged it?”
“There’s no way only one guy dragged that up here by himself; it’s way too heavy.”
“What if he, like, tied a rope to it and dragged it like that?”
“Yeah, that actually might make it work.”
“Seriously you guys? Who would go through the effort to go down there and tie a rope to a raft to drag it up here and leave it?”
In the end many questions remained unresolved, but one thing was decided: we would have to push it back down into the barranca again, lest Gabin‘s mom happened to drive by one day and see it there. Nick volunteered to do the deed. With his trusty moped gloves on, he shoved the piece of junk off a sharp incline and it went tumbling down the side of the barranca. Then, all three of us at once noticed that there was a random guy watching from his backyard.
“Hey,” he greeted us.
“Oh shit, shit shit!”
Just like that, Gabin and Nick took off at full speed. I didn’t know what the big deal was; it was just a random dude, so I casually jogged behind them to catch up. We ended up taking a random wide route around the whole neighborhood on the way back to Gabo’s. While we walked, Nick played through all the horrible, unrealistic, worst-case scenarios in his head, while narrating their events to us:
“He probably called the cops, and the cops are going to make a report, and he’s going to be a witness, and then they’re going to say ‘we got two suspects, along with a possible accomplice,’ so the guy’s going to describe us, and he’ll say ‘One guy wearing a jacket, and one in a striped shirt and jeans,’ we should definitely change clothes when we get back to Gavin’s, that might throw them off…”
“Dude, Nick,” I tried to reassure him, “this is not CSI Miami, you’re taking this way too seriously.”
We got back to Gabin’s house about the same time that Sean arrived. As it turned out, Gab’s mom had actually gone looking for us at the park to let us know that Sean was on his way. Maybe she actually would have seen the raft, had we not pushed it down again. Gabin’s mom told us that while she was at the park, she saw a Mexican party, and thought we might have been there. That actually sounded like a pretty fun idea to us, and we’d be able to blend in perfectly now that we had our token Mexican, Sean, (who was in fact looking pretty fresh).
So we trekked back to the park, to find this Mexican party. We didn’t find the party, but something else caught our eye.
“Oh God damn it!” Gabin exclaimed once he saw it. The raft that we pushed down into the barranca twice was now not only out of the barranca entirely, it was actually on the sidewalk, in plain view, leaning up against a trashcan. It was like someone was toying with our minds.
“What- how did they- who in the world would- why pull the- damnit- all the way-”
“Look,” I stepped in as the voice of casual reason once again, calming the others, “if someone took the effort to pull it up and put it against this trashcan, they obviously have a plan for it. The trash man is probably going to pick it up next time he comes along here.”
“You’re right,” Gavin agreed while studying the contraption’s placement, “but we can’t just leave it right there in the open.”
He walked over to a folding park sign a few meters away and brought it over. He carefully placed it in front of the trashcan and the raft. It didn’t even come close to covering up the evidence.
“There, that’ll make it a little less conspicuous, it looks like it’s all part of a piece now.”
“If you say so.”
We spent the rest of the evening playing on the rope swing in the barranca there, and tossing random things that we found on the floor at each other. At night, we took little Tiger for a ride in the car, picked up a few pizzas, and rented this crazy ass movie “Dark Skies,” which definitely had some scary effects, but also some over-the-top acting. Some of our favorite lines were spoken by the son character’s delinquent friend, such as “better run, bitch!” and “shiiiiiiit dawg.”
I got home around 1AM, which was definitely stretching my limits, having to wake up at 4am that morning to go to my first day of school. One thing was for sure, the saga of the boat had finally drawn to a close.