Danny smirked. “What’d they say?”

“Please don’t boil us.”

“Come on.”

“They say we should go to Hollywood.”

“What for?” Joey poked his stick at a large white tom on the other side of the fence. The bird looked back at him, turning its head to see with one eye and then the other.

“The signal is fading,” said Ralph, creasing his forehead, squinting. “Wait, wait, I’ve got it. They say that’s where your father is.”

Joey shoved him hard against the fence. Ralph hit the post and went down. After a moment Ralph rose to his knees. His lip was split. The turkeys were gathered behind him, wanting to be fed.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat up crazy people.”

Ralph stood. He brushed himself off. “Sorry.”

Joey shrugged. He threw the stick far into the field. A small group of turkeys broke from the crowd and ran after it.

“They say he’s a movie star,” Ralph said quietly.

Joey turned. “Which one?”

“Robert Mitchum.”

“Shut up.”

“You do kind of look like him,” said Danny.

Joey touched a finger to the dimple on his chin.

“Bullshit,” he said. But there was a part of him that wanted to believe. Danny and Ralph could see the weakness even as Joey began to laugh to cover it up.

The report was a disaster. Danny had typed up only half of their notes. Joey recited a gruesome description of the killing floor, and Ralph tried to save the day by singing a song from the labor movement. Mrs. Johnson gave them a C minus.

“What are you so worried about?” Joey asked. “We passed.”

Ralph bit his fingers.

“It’s my fault,” said Danny. “Do you want me to come over and tell your dad?”

Ralph shook his head. He had done it on purpose. There was a part of him that always wanted to do the worst thing possible, and when he was finished he would stand back and look, frightened and knowing what was coming to him.

When he put his report card on the table, his father leaned back in his chair and tucked his arms tightly across his chest. Mr. Kurtz had grown up in foster care, where he was beaten daily. His nose had been broken in three places. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was usually to insult someone. If there’d been someplace else to buy gas in town, people would have gone there instead.