“MOOOOOOOVE!”

And just then that little bundle gave a shudder and a hop, hop, hop. If you could call it a hop. It was more like a lurch. Like a drag. It rolled off from the lawn mower and started across the grass. “Up, up, and away!” said Rick. I stood there at the window, watching Rick shouting and that lump scooting along, and I started to laugh. It was funny.

I went downstairs. I sent the screen door swinging behind me—creak-slam! Put, put, put, down the back steps and outside. Rick had his eyes fixed on the shirt flopping away. I started after it. I made a show.

“Come back here, shirt!” I said. “You think you’re getting away from me?” It tried to fake me out with a zigzag, but I caught it easy and put my foot on it. I held it fast, picked up a side, and started shaking it. “Get!” I said. The little shirt unrolled, and out came Slim in what seemed like pieces, a sticky mess all white and red.

It looked as though someone had sliced him right down the side, from the back of his ear to the front curve of his thumper leg. He moved and I noticed that the skin wasn’t just cut. A whole piece had been peeled away, and I could see the wet pink sponge of muscle underneath the blood. I poked him with my foot and he slumped over. Part of his little front leg was gone.

I turned around and looked at Rick. He was in the same spot and his arms were reaching out at me. Frankenstein kid. I walked over with his grass-stained, rabbit blood shirt in my hand and kneeled in front of him. He let his arms down, let them rest on my shoulders, and when I pulled him close to me, I felt them give a squeeze.

“Let go,” I said, and his arms dropped. He looked at my right shoulder, then at my left shoulder, then over at Slim on the grass. “Look at me!” I said, and I grabbed his chin and lifted it to my face. It was his father’s chin—longish, with a slight dimple. I pressed my thumb into it hard.

I made Rick put on his shirt. I pushed the collar down, and when his head came through, it was streaked a rusty red. I pulled the shirt over his belly. The cloth was wet and cold, and when I saw the blood caking into my knuckles, I knew it would never wash out. Rick bent his elbow and pushed his arm through a sleeve, and something flew out the cuff onto the lawn.