Big Boy had been acting funny all day. He turned his head away when Liam picked up his leash and lay down behind the sofa, panting. Liam’s mom thought just breathing some fresh air would do him good. So, after dinner, she and his dad sat on the stoop with the huge old dog and sent Liam out for ice cream.

Ample Hills was only four blocks away from home. Liam wanted a cone, and he’d promised to bring his parents back a pint of Smack Mallow Pop. “It really is smack,” his mom said. “I’m going to eat the whole pint.”

The weather had been weirdly warm and the place was packed. Bruce Cardozo, Ryan, and Black Ryan from school were in line ahead of him.

“We’re going to PS 919 to play basketball,” Ryan said.

“You should come,” Black Ryan offered.

“Oh, he’s coming,” Bruce said and punched Liam’s skinny shoulder. It was only then that Liam was able to confirm that they were actually talking to him.

They were all big guys, but they’d ordered child-size ice cream cones because they were cheaper.

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Bruce called, weaving through the crowd with his tiny cone held high.

Liam wasn’t sure why they were being so insistent. He liked Black Ryan, but the other two guys—Bruce especially—were total assholes. He didn’t know them that well, but they were popular athletes who went to parties. They didn’t have to make an effort, so why were they making an effort with him? Maybe he was wrong, maybe they weren’t total assholes.

He ordered a double kid-size cone but decided against the pint, just in case he really did want to play basketball with Bruce and the two Ryans. His mom would have to suck it up. She was always complaining about the size of her thighs anyway. And it was sort of cool that they’d asked. Plus, it was such a nice night.

Sorry no ice cream for u, he texted his mom. Met up with some guys. Going to play basketball.

Good for u. Good for me. Ice cream is evil, she texted back with a little skull-and-crossbones emoji.

Outside, Liam and the other three boys performed the requisite palm slaps and finger-grab handshakes and then ambled down Union Street, quietly devouring their cones. Black Ryan was the tallest. Everyone called him Black Ryan, even the teachers sometimes. The prevailing opinion was that the moniker wasn’t racist; it just made it easier to distinguish between the two Ryans in their grade. There were also three Mayas, but no one called them Freckly Biracial Maya, Asian Maya, and Blonde Maya. Liam wasn’t sure why. He also had no idea why they didn’t call the other Ryan White Ryan. That would’ve been funnier.