“Hang out with who?” Pete asked morosely. It was spring vacation, and all of his friends, the ones his mother would have called “age appropriate,” seemed to be somewhere else. A couple of them had gone to Disney World in Orlando, and when Pete thought of this, his heart filled with envy and jealousy — a vile brew, but strangely tasty.

“Just hang out,” George said. “Go to the store, or something.” He scrounged in his pocket and came out with two crumpled Washingtons. “Here’s a couple of bucks.”

Pete looked at them. “Jeez, I’ll buy a Corvette. Maybe two.”

“Hurry up, Simmons, or we’ll go withoutcha!” Normie yelled.

“Coming!” George shouted back. Then, low, to Pete: “Take the money and don’t be a boogersnot.”

Pete took the money. “I even brought my magnifying glass,” he said. “I was gonna show em—”

“They’ve all seen that baby trick a thousand times,” George said, but when he saw the corners of Pete’s mouth tuck down, he tried to soften the blow. “Besides, look at the sky, numbo. You can’t start fires with a magnifying glass on a cloudy day. Hang out. We’ll play computer Battleship or something when I come back.”

“Okay, chickshit, seeya later!” Normie yelled.

“I gotta go,” George said. “Do me a favor and don’t get in trouble. Stay in the neighborhood.”

“You’ll probably break your spine and be fuckin’ paralyzed for life,” Pete said. then hastily spat between his forked fingers to take the curse off. “Good luck!” he shouted after his brother. “Jump the farthest!”

George waved one hand in acknowledgment, but didn’t look back. He stood on the pedals of his own bike, a big old Schwinn that Pete admired but couldn’t ride (he’d tried once and wiped out halfway down the driveway). Pete watched him put on speed as he raced up this block of suburban houses in Auburn, catching up with his homies.

Then Pete was alone.