– Yeah, that’ll do it; no one ever steals shit that’s next to a window. Numbnuts.

George is kneeling next to a bucket of water, submerging the half inflated innertube from his bike’s front wheel. He looks once at Paul, then back in the bucket.

– Don’t be such a dick, man, he lost his bike.

Paul picks up a rock from the huge pile that occupies half the driveway. He shakes the rock around in his hand.

– He didn’t lose his bike.

He tosses the rock, bouncing it off Andy’s back.

– He let someone steal it.

Andy feels pressure behind his eyes and fights it. Already cried once coming out of the store and finding the bike gone. Can’t cry again.

He picks up a rock of his own.

– I didn’t let anyone steal it.

He throws the rock at Paul.

– It was stolen.

Paul stays right where he is, the rock skipping across the pavement and into the street without coming near him.

– Yeah, big diff.

George is still shuffling the innertube between his hands, looking for the string of bubbles that will point to the slow leak that’s been plaguing him for days.

– Don’t throw the fucking rocks around, dad’ll have a fit.

Andy kicks at a couple rocks, nudging them back toward the pile. His and George’s dad had them shovel the rocks from the back of his 4×4 two weeks ago. This weekend he’ll rent a rototiller and plow up the back lawn and they’ll have to move the rocks a wheelbarrow load at a time to spread over the yard. It’s gonna suck and he’s not even going to pay them. He says they should be thanking him for plowing under the lawn that they hate mowing and weeding.

A line of bubbles shoots to the surface of the water. George covers their source with a fingertip and lifts the tube from the water.

– Hand me that rag.

Andy bends to pick up a scrap of chamois that’s lying next to the toolbox. Paul takes a quick step and places his foot over it.