Abbey said, “Muleman'll have that tub fixed up good as new in a week. What was Dad thinking? If he was serious, he would've burned the darn thing to the waterline.”

“Don't give him any ideas,” I said.

Lice Peeking lived in a trailer park on the old road that runs parallel to the main highway. I got there at lunchtime but he was still asleep. When I offered to come back later, his girlfriend said no, she'd be happy to wake him. She was a large lady with bright blond hair and a barbed-wire tattoo around one of her biceps. My dad had told me about her. He'd said to make sure I was extra polite.

The girlfriend disappeared down the hallway and came back half a minute later, leading Lice Peeking by his belt. He didn't look so good and he smelled even worse-a combination of beer and B.O. was my guess.

“Who're you?” he demanded, then sagged down on an old sofa.

The girlfriend said, “I'm off to the store.”

“Don't forget my cigarettes,” Lice Peeking told her.

“No way. You promised to quit.”

“Aw, gimme a break, Shelly.”

They argued for a while and seemed to forget they had company. I pretended to look at the aquarium, which had pea-green slime on the glass and exactly one live fish swimming in the water.

Finally, Lice Peeking's girlfriend said he was hopeless and snatched the wallet out of his jeans and stomped out the door. When he got himself together, he asked once more who I was.

“Noah Underwood,” I said.