We’re not supposed to talk about our projects.
“We’re not supposed to talk about our projects.” Tank was lifting weights in Curly’s basement for a mid-week workout. Curly was spotting Tank while Samson sat on the stairs. “It’s your first one, Tank. I just thought you’d like to run the idea by me just in case you are worried about it.” Tank was bursting at the seams thinking about his project, despite the rules.
He was developing a Mormon missionary blog network where missionaries who had Internet access could blog about their experiences. It would be anonymous, so that no one would get in trouble for anything that they said. He had decided to use WordPress MU for the base. He had designed the CSS and the basic layout of the blogs to make it easy for the missionaries to blog about their experiences, even if they hadn’t used a computer before. He was dying to show it to Samson.
Tank pushed past his last set and stood up to trade places with Curly. He added some weight to the ends of each bar and stood over the bench to spot. “Hey Curly, what are you doing for your project? Can you give us a hint?” Curly grunted, “Thought we weren’t supposed ta talk about ‘em.” Samson smiled. “You don’t have to, but I’m going to be on the judging committee, so I can help you with your presentation.” Tank counted the reps while Curly spoke, “So that mean you’re not doin’ one?” Samson shook his head. “No, I’ve got too much to do just organizing this with James. He’s not doing one either. Neither is Sierra.” Curly laughed. “I don’t think I’m gonna do one either.”
Samson ran his hand through his wiry, black hair. It was getting to an awkward length and he itched to cut it. “I saw your name on the NDA form.” Curly clunked down the bar onto the weight bench and sat up. “That was when I thought it was gonna be at the cafe. Now that it’s at the high school, the whole town’s gonna be there. I can’t talk in front ‘o the whole town.” Tank shrugged. “You did at Ricky’s funeral.” A hush fell over the basement and Tank could smell something horrible cooking upstairs.
After the silence became unbearable, Tank spoke again, “Is Angie cooking up there?” Curly wiped the sweat from his face and continued wiping his eyes. “She wanted to do somethin’ nice for us. No matter what it smells like, you’re gonna eat it.”