{"id":5840,"date":"2026-01-04T12:21:40","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T12:21:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/bones-kellerman-jonathan\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T12:21:40","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T12:21:40","slug":"bones-kellerman-jonathan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/bones-kellerman-jonathan\/","title":{"rendered":"Bones – Kellerman, Jonathan"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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CHAPTER<\/p>\n

1<\/p>\n

E<\/span>veryone does it is not a defense!<\/em><\/p>\n

Wrong.<\/p>\n

If everyone did it, that made it normal, right? And after Chance did the research he knew he did nothing<\/em> wrong.<\/p>\n

Googling high school cheating<\/em> because writing an essay was part of the punishment.<\/p>\n

Finding out four out of five high school students\u2014that\u2019s eighty frickin\u2019 percent\u2014<\/em>did it.<\/p>\n

Majority rules. Just like that thing on his Social Action study sheet . . . social norms.<\/p>\n

Social norms are the cement that holds societies together.<\/em><\/p>\n

There you go, he was being a big help to society!<\/p>\n

When he tried to joke about that with the parental units, they didn\u2019t laugh.<\/p>\n

Same as when he told them it was civil rights, no way could the school force him to do community service outside the school property. That was against the Constitution. Time to call the ACLU.<\/p>\n

That got Dad\u2019s eyes all squinty. Chance turned to Mom but she made sure not to give him any eye contact.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ACLU?\u201d Big wet Dad throat clear, like after too many cigars. \u201cBecause we make a significant monetary contribution to the ACLU?\u201d Starting to breathe hard. \u201cEvery goddamn year.<\/em> That\u2019s what you\u2019re saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cCute, extremely cute. That\u2019s your point? Well let me tell you something: You cheated. Period. That is not<\/em> the kind of thing the ACLU<\/em> gives half a shit<\/em> about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLanguage, Steve\u2014\u201d Mom broke in.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t start,<\/em> Susan. We\u2019ve got a goddamn fucking serious problem here and I seem to be the only one who fucking gets<\/em> it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom got all tight-mouthed, started plucking at her nails. Turned her back on both of them and did something with dishes on the kitchen counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s his problem, Susan, not ours and unless he owns up to it, we can kiss Occidental\u2014or any other halfway decent college\u2014fucking good-bye.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance said, \u201cI\u2019ll own up to it, Dad.\u201d Working on what Sarabeth called his Mr. Sincere look.<\/p>\n

Laughing as she undid her bra. Everyone buys Mr. Sincere but me, Chancy. I know it\u2019s Mr. Bogus.<\/em><\/p>\n

Dad stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d said Chance, \u201cat least give me credit for hand-eye coordination.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dad let out a stream of curses and stomped out of the kitchen.<\/p>\n

Mom said, \u201cHe\u2019ll get over it,\u201d but she left, too.<\/p>\n

Chance waited to make sure neither of them was coming back before he smiled.<\/p>\n

Feeling good because his hand-eye had<\/em> been cool.<\/p>\n

Setting his Razr on vibrate and positioning it perfectly in a side pocket of his loosest cargo pants, the phone resting on a bunch of shit he\u2019d stuffed in there to make kind of a little table.<\/p>\n

Sarabeth three rows up, texting him the answers to the test. Chance being cool about it, knowing he\u2019d never get caught because Shapiro was a nearsighted loser who stayed at his desk and missed everything.<\/p>\n

Who\u2019d figure Barclay would come in to tell Shapiro something, look clear to the back of the room, and spot Chance peeking into his pocket?<\/p>\n

The whole class doing the same exact thing, everyone\u2019s pockets vibing. Everyone cracking up the moment the test started because Shapiro was such a clueless loser, the whole semester had been like this, the asshole would\u2019ve missed Paris Hilton walking in nude and spreading.<\/p>\n

Everyone does it is not a defense!<\/em><\/p>\n

Rumley looking down his big nose and talking all sad like at a funeral. What Chance wanted to say was, Then it frickin\u2019 should be, dude.<\/em><\/p>\n

Instead, he sat in Rumley\u2019s office, squeezed between his parents, his head all down, trying to look all sorry and thinking about the shape of Sarabeth\u2019s ass in her thong while Rumley went on forever about honor and ethics and the history of Windward Prep and how if the school so chose they had the option of informing the Occidental admissions office and causing dire consequences for his college career.<\/p>\n

That made Mom burst into tears.<\/p>\n

Dad just sat there, looking angry at the world, didn\u2019t make a move to even give her a tissue from the box on Rumley\u2019s desk so Rumley had to do it, standing up and handing it to Mom and looking pissed at Dad for making him stretch.<\/p>\n

Rumley sat back down and moved his mouth some more.<\/p>\n

Chance pretended to listen, Mom sniffled, Dad looked ready to hit someone. When Rumley finally finished, Dad started talking about the family\u2019s \u201ccontributions to Windward,\u201d mentioning Chance\u2019s performance on the basketball team, bringing up his own time on the football team.<\/p>\n

In the end the adults reached an agreement and wore small, satisfied smiles. Chance felt like a puppet but he made sure he looked all serious, being happy would be a ba-ad<\/em> move.<\/p>\n

Punishment 1: He\u2019d have to take another version of the test\u2014Shapiro would make one up.<\/p>\n

Punishment 2: No more cell phone at school.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe this unfortunate event will have positive ramifications, young man,\u201d said Rumley. \u201cWe\u2019ve been thinking about a schoolwide ban.\u201d<\/p>\n

There you go, thought Chance. I did you guys a favor, not only shouldn\u2019t you punish me, you should be payin\u2019 me, like some sort of consulting deal.<\/p>\n

So far, so good, for a second Chance thought he\u2019d got off real easy. Then:<\/p>\n

Punishment 3: The essay. Chance hated to write, usually Sarabeth did his essays, but she couldn\u2019t do this one because he had to do it at school, in Rumley\u2019s office.<\/p>\n

Still, no big deal.<\/p>\n

Then<\/em> came Punishment 4: \u201cBecause substantive accountability has to be part of the package, Master Brandt.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom and Dad agreeing. The three of them going all al-Qaida on him.<\/p>\n

Chance pretended to agree.<\/p>\n

Yes, sir, I need to pay my debt and I will do so with industrious alacrity.<\/em><\/p>\n

Throwing in some SAT vocab words. Dad staring at him, like who are you kidding, dude, but Mom and Rumley looked really impressed.<\/p>\n

Rumley moved his mouth.<\/p>\n

Community service.<\/em> Oh, shit.<\/p>\n

And here the frick he was.<\/p>\n

Sitting in the Save the Marsh office on night eleven of his thirty-night sentence. Shitty little puke-colored room with pictures of ducks and bugs, whatever, on the wall. One dirty window looking out to a parking lot where no one but him and Duboff parked. Stacks of bumper stickers in the corner he was supposed to hand out to anyone who walked in.<\/p>\n

No one walked in and Duboff left him by himself so he could run off to investigate how global warming got up a duck\u2019s butt, what made birds hurl, did bugs have big dicks, whatever.<\/p>\n

Thirty frickin\u2019 nights of this, nuking his summer vacation.<\/p>\n

Five to ten p.m., instead of hanging after school with Sarabeth and his friends, all because of a social norm<\/em> four out of five people did.<\/p>\n

When the phone did ring, he mostly ignored it. When he did answer, it was always some loser wanting directions to the marsh.<\/p>\n

Go on the frickin\u2019 website or use MapQuest, Rainman!<\/em><\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t allowed to make outgoing calls but since yesterday he\u2019d started to hook up with Sarabeth for cell phone sex. She was loving him even more for not ratting her to Rumley.<\/p>\n

He sat there. Drank from his can of Jolt, now warm. Felt the Baggie in his pants pocket and thought Later.<\/em><\/p>\n

Nineteen more nights of supermax confinement, he was starting to feel like one of those Aryan Brotherhood dudes.<\/p>\n

Two and a half more frickin\u2019 weeks until he was free at last, doing his Luther King thing. He checked his TAG Heuer. Nine twenty-four. Thirty-six minutes and he\u2019d be good to go.<\/p>\n

The phone rang.<\/p>\n

He ignored it.<\/p>\n

It kept going, ten times.<\/p>\n

He let it die a natural death.<\/p>\n

A minute later, it rang again and he figured maybe he should answer it, what if it was Rumley testing him?<\/p>\n

Clearing his throat and getting Mr. Sincere ready, he picked up. \u201cSave the Marsh.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence on the other end made him smile.<\/p>\n

One of his friends pranking him, probably Ethan. Or Ben or Jared.<\/p>\n

\u201cDude,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

A weird kind of hissy voice said, \u201cUp?\u201d Weird laughter. \u201cSomething\u2019s down.<\/em> As in buried in your marsh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, dude\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up and listen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Being talked to like that made Chance\u2019s face go all hot, like when he was ready to sneak a flagrant in on some loser on the opposing team, then get all innocent when the dude wailed about being nut-jammed.<\/p>\n

He said, \u201cFuck off, dude.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hissy voice said, \u201cEast side of the marsh. Look and you\u2019ll find it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike I give a\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDead,\u201d said Hissy. \u201cSomething real real dead.<\/em>\u201d Laughter. \u201cDude.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Hanging up before Chance could tell him to shove dead up his . . .<\/p>\n

A voice from the door said, \u201cHey, man, how\u2019s it shaking?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance\u2019s face was still hot, but he put on Mr. Sincere and looked over.<\/p>\n

There in the doorway was Duboff, wearing his Save the Marsh<\/em> T-shirt, geek shorts showing too much skinny white thigh, plastic sandals, that stupid gray beard.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mr. Duboff,\u201d said Chance.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, man.\u201d Duboff gave a clenched-fist salute. \u201cDid you have a chance to check out the herons before you got here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot yet, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re incredible animals, man. Magnificent. Wingspread like this.\u201d Unfolding scrawny arms to the max.<\/p>\n

You\u2019ve obviously mistaken me for someone who gives half a shit.<\/em><\/p>\n

Duboff came closer, smelling gross, that organic deodorant he\u2019d tried to convince Chance to use. \u201cLike pterodactyls, man. Master fishers.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance had thought a heron was<\/em> a fish until Duboff told him different.<\/p>\n

Duboff edged near the desk, showed those gross teeth of his. \u201cRich folk in Beverly Hills don\u2019t like when the herons swoop in during hatching season and eat their rich-folk koi. Koi are aberrations. Mutations, people messing with brown carp, screwing up the DNA to get those colors. Herons are Nature, brilliant predators. They feed their young and restore nature to true balance. Screw those Beverly Hillbillies, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance smiled.<\/p>\n

Maybe it wasn\u2019t a big enough smile because Duboff suddenly looked nervous. \u201cYou don\u2019t live there, do I recall correctly?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou live in . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrentwood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrentwood,\u201d said Duboff, as if trying to figure out what that meant. \u201cYour parents don\u2019t keep koi, do they?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. We don\u2019t even have a dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood for you guys,\u201d said Duboff, patting Chance\u2019s shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s all servitude. Pets, I mean. The whole concept is like slavery.\u201d<\/p>\n

Keeping his hand on the shoulder. Was the guy a fag?<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d said Chance, inching away.<\/p>\n

Duboff scratched his knee. Frowned and rubbed a pink bump. \u201cStopped by the marsh to check for trash. Musta got bit by something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProviding food for the little guys,\u201d said Chance. \u201cThat\u2019s a good thing, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

Duboff stared at him, trying to figure out if Chance was messing with his head.<\/p>\n

Chance brought out Mr. Sincere and Duboff decided Chance was being righteous and smiled. \u201cGuess you\u2019re right . . . anyway, I just thought I\u2019d stop in, see how you\u2019re doing before your shift ends.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, check you out later, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance said, \u201cUh, sir, it\u2019s kinda close to the end.\u201d<\/p>\n

Duboff smiled. \u201cSo it is. At ten, you can lock up. I\u2019ll be by later.\u201d Walking to the door, he stopped, looked back. \u201cIt\u2019s a noble thing you\u2019re doing, Chance. Whatever the circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me Sil.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got it, Sil.\u201d<\/p>\n

Duboff said, \u201cAnything I should know about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike what, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCalls, messages?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chance grinned, flashing perfect white chompers, courtesy five years of Dr. Wasserman.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing, Sil,\u201d he said, with utter confidence.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

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