Read Spirit Pouch for Free Online Page A

bites that thing, not to mention psychological help.”
    I leave English Literature at a run.  It isn’t easy to run with books, but my cross country training comes in useful.  I catch up with Ty half way to seminary.
    “Ty,” I say, panting a little.
    He turns to look.
    “I need to ask you about baptism,” I say.
    “Sorry, man,” he replies, staring toward the seminary building that is now in sight.  “I don’t want to get baptized in the Mormon church or any other church.”
    “That’s not what I mean.  I’m talking about the spirit pouch.  I need help figuring it out.”
    I actually get Ty’s attention for all of ten seconds, but then Sarah Hansen comes into view as she enters the seminary building with two other young women.
    “Are you coming over tonight?” Ty asks.
    “Yes.”
    “Let’s talk tonight, then.”
     
    * * *
     
    In seminary Ty catches Sarah’s eye one time and quickly protrudes his tongue to flash his silver bar-bell.
    Sarah frowns and turns back around in her seat for the rest of the period.  After class Sarah slips quickly out the side door while Becky walks over to Ty.
    “I saw that thing in your mouth,” she says.
    “You like it?” Ty asks, sticking it out and wiggling his tongue for effect.
    “No,” she answers.  “It’s gross.  Take that thing out.  It’s not very becoming, and you’re a lot more attractive without it.”
    “That’s not what Sarah thinks,” Ty says a little hurt.
    “Trust me,” Becky smiles.  “That is what Sarah thinks.”  She turns and walks away.  I have heard enough, and by the look on Ty’s face, so has he.
     
    * * *
     
    I park my bicycle on Ty’s front porch and remove my helmet.  I hang it on the handlebars and set my flashlight inside.  I know that we will be studying late and Mom said to be home by ten.  I ring the doorbell and wait.
    “Hi, Jet,” Ty says as he opens the front door.
    “Hi,” I say, following Ty’s gaze back to my bike.  “It’s kind of old but it gets me around when I can’t get my mom to take me,” I apologize.  Most boys have mountain bikes these days, but I feel lucky to have an old ten-speed.  The seat is ripped where the sun has deteriorated the Naugahyde, and the tape on the handlebars is ragged in places, but I keep the chain and pedals oiled and all the gears work.  It only takes three minutes to pedal the one mile to Ty’s house.
    “You better bring it inside,” he says.  “Some kid will walk off with it.”
    I wheel my ten-speed inside and park it in the entrance way.  Ty’s house does not look particularly big, but plenty adequate for two people.  At first glance the front room seems well furnished and the carpet even looks new, but there is a general clutter around the room.  Not toys, or clothes, but papers and what looks like technical reference books sit open on the couch.
    “Did your dad think it was okay for me to come over tonight?” I ask.
    “Yeah.  We just have to be quiet.  He’s working on a project and wants to concentrate.”  Ty motions with his hand, “Come on back to my room.”
    I follow Ty down the hall and turn left into his room.  Dropping my book bag onto the floor, I look around.  Above the partially made bed hangs an eight by ten picture of Sarah Hansen.
    “Wow!  Sarah gave you her picture?” I say in amazement.  “And an eight by ten no less!”
    “Actually, no,” Ty admits.  “I scanned her picture from last year’s yearbook, and then enlarged it.”
    “And is this your computer?” I ask.  I am sure that the envy I feel is also portrayed in my voice.  I have always wanted Mom to buy a computer, but she can not see much use for one.
    “It is sort of mine,” Ty explains.  “My dad lets me use it because I help him design electronic circuits.”
    “So your dad doesn’t push drugs, like Franky says,” I smile.
    “No, he designs high tech electronic equipment for the government.  He works right here at home.”  Ty