Fiction
The Plunge Pool • Part 4
Peace + Anarchy = ?
Continued from Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3
People had been trickling in through the afternoon and no one paid much attention, but when nine hippies showed up all at once, everyone looked. A sharp-eyed girl in a bandanna led the group. She wore a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and an elaborate, hand-painted skeleton-and-roses filling the back panel.
Close behind her came a thin slouchy fellow like a walking question mark, with long stringy curls and a tiny brown tuft on his chin. Seven others trailed behind in tie-dyes and peasant skirts and cut-off army pants and sandals.
They emerged from the woods right at the falls. The bandanna girl saw the locals, sized up the situation and led her friends in the opposite direction. They settled on the far banks of the pond. Seeing them head away, everyone lost interest, except for Mustache Guy. He watched them from the moment they appeared until they climbed down the ledges out of sight. Even then, he stared a moment longer, then turned and said something to the group sitting around his grill. None of them laughed.
I nudged Tammy and indicated Mustache Guy with my head. “Who’s that guy? Does he own this place?”
