Cutter stayed put, but Becky and Josie took three steps back while Ethan fished a shell from his pocket, slid it into the loading chamber, and gave it a pump. He raised the gun snugly to his shoulder, staggered his feet, pressed his cheek to the stock.
“Cover your ears,” Josie advised, and Becky clapped her hands to her head. There was a loud bang, and the clatter of metal against metal as the bucket was knocked to the ground.
They dropped their hands, and Ethan smiled triumphantly as he lowered the gun from his shoulder.
“Cool,” Becky exclaimed.
“Pretty good!” Cutter conceded, reaching for the gun. “My turn.” He pulled the weapon from Ethan’s hands.
“Come on,” Josie said, pulling Becky toward the truck, “this is boring.”
“No, I want to try it,” Becky said. A flash of jealousy rippled through Josie. Becky was her best friend. The idea that she would rather spend time with her brother and Cutter than with Josie sent a flood of envy through her.
“You can’t,” Josie said. “It’s dangerous.”
“Come on, Cutter,” Ethan said. “Go ahead and shoot. We have to go in a minute.”
“Yeah,” Cutter interjected. “Little girls shouldn’t be playing with such big weapons.” He held the shotgun at crotch level and waggled his tongue suggestively.
“Gross,” Becky said with a laugh.
“Yeah, gross,” Josie echoed.
“That’s okay, you’re scared.” Cutter said. “We should get you back home. It’s probably your bedtime.”
“I’m not scared,” Josie mumbled.
“Okay, then do it.” He held the gun, barrel down, toward her.
Josie was tempted. She wasn’t one to turn down a dare, but guns were different. Her dad had drilled into their brains how guns were not toys. How accidents happened by careless show-offs or novices who didn’t respect the power a firearm possessed.
“I don’t want to,” Josie said casually.
“You’re scared,” Cutter taunted.
“I’m not,” Becky piped up. “Can I try?”
“Sure, come here. I’ll show you,” Cutter beckoned Becky toward him. She took the gun from him and, surprised by its weight, nearly dropped it.
“Watch it,” Cutter cried. “You want to shoot somebody?”
“Sorry,” Becky said, flustered.
“Here, I’ll show you.” Cutter moved in behind Becky, reaching for the gun. He pressed his hips into her back and slid his arms around her waist, his inching fingers creeping beneath the fabric of her shirt. Becky tried to sidestep his grasp, but Cutter had her boxed in.
“I want Ethan to show me.” Becky lightly elbowed her way free. Cutter’s lips pursed into a sullen pout.
Ethan shrugged and showed her how to hold the rifle and peer through the sight.
“It’s heavier than I thought it would be,” Becky said, squinting at the bucket, now lying on the ground.
“You better not do that,” Josie warned. She looked around, afraid that someone might see. They would get in so much trouble.
“I just want to hold it,” Becky said in a voice that made it clear that she thought Josie was acting like a baby.
“Go ahead,” Josie said, “shoot your foot off. I don’t care.” She turned her back on them and strode to the truck to wait for the sound of more gunshots. A boom erupted, and an excited squeal came from Becky.
Cutter snatched the shotgun from her hand. “My turn.” He loaded the gun and lifted it to his shoulder, but instead of aiming at the bucket, he pointed toward the trees, slowly moving the gun from left to right. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed just before pulling the trigger. There was a bang, a rustle of leaves, and then the dull thud of something hitting the ground.
“Eww,” Becky said. “You shot a bird. Why’d you do that?”
They were too far away to see exactly what kind of bird the bullet struck, but it was good-sized and black. Maybe a crow or a turkey vulture.
“Trash bird, anyway,” Cutter said. “Hey, you coming out later?” he asked.
Ethan cut a glance toward his sister. “Naw, I’m grounded.”
“When did that ever stop you?” Cutter laughed. He turned to Josie and Becky. “How about you? You want to come out and play tonight?”
“No, thank you,” Josie said, rolling her eyes. Becky blushed. Cutter laughed, but his face reddened beneath his brown tan.
Becky rubbed her shoulder where the butt of the gun recoiled.