But none of them seemed to like them, for whatever reason—in Sally’s case, because she didn’t like the way Chad smelled.

“Anyway,” said Chad, “I told you it was bad.” He took another swig of his beer and belched impressively and then continued. “So, I’m guessin’ I’m the big winner tonight, huh? So … I get to pick tomorrow.” Randy and Chad went on most of their dates on Friday or Saturday nights. And they usually met up afterward to check in—and often to commiserate. And the one who had the worse date got to pick what they were going to do for fun the next day. And Chad was sure that his date had been worse that night, so he said, “And I pick bowlin’. We’ll go bowlin’ in Caribou, supper at the Snowmobile Club, coupla beers at the Moose Paddy, and just … hang out.”

He offered up his can of beer for a toast. And waited for Randy to toast him back.

But Randy didn’t.

So Chad toasted himself and chugged. And thought about how maybe he shouldn’t drink as much as he did. But it was the only thing that made him feel less sad. So he decided that he would think about maybe not drinking as much as he currently did another time. And he finished his beer and then tried—and failed—to crush his empty beer can on his head, because he had never quite learned how to execute that move. And then he got up and tossed his mostly crushed can into the brown paper bag that Randy had brought the beer in. And then he grabbed another beer and cracked it open and sat back down on his snow boulder. And he was about to ask Randy when he wanted to go bowling tomorrow when Randy calmly droned, “I didn’t say you’re the big winner.”

“Huh?”

“Did I say you’re the big winner?”

“No, but—”

“No,” interrupted Randy, staring out across the cemetery and into the Norsworthys’ potato fields and out at the horizon. “All that’s pretty sad, Chad, and bad, but you didn’t win.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t win.”

Chad knew there was no way that Randy could beat what had happened to him with Sally, so he challenged Randy. “You can beat bein’ told you smell bad?”

“Yup,” said Randy, still staring off into the distance.

Randy’s calm confidence intrigued Chad. And he said, “Well, then,” holding out his hand and offering Randy the floor.

Randy took a deep breath as if he was about to say something. But instead belched more impressively than Chad had. And then he sighed. And seemed really sad—sadder than Chad was, even. And Chad was shocked. Because he had never known Randy to be sad. He had known him to be angry. But never sad.

And Chad was about to ask him if he was okay when Randy grunted, “Mine’s face broke.”

Chad heard Randy. But didn’t quite understand what he had just said.