That tire belonged to Meatball, and when Meatball didn’t want it, Reggie took over. They’d wrestle over the damn thing all day if they could, and they generally did, and the rest of the dogs left them alone, left the tire alone.

Until the one day, three days before graduation, when Lucy and Mason found themselves alone unexpectedly in front of the pile of toys, having finished the morning’s training before anyone else. Lucy saw the tire sitting there and, as best as Mason could figure, finally saw her shot and snatched it up and jogged away happily, tail wagging furiously and a gleam in her eyes, looking back at Mason every couple of steps to make sure he knew just what mischief she’d pulled off.

She looked so damn happy, he couldn’t take the tire from her. And so he didn’t. He let her have her fun, played tug-of-war with her, let her sit down and chew the thing until it was covered in drool and a whole host of new bite marks, until Meatball and Reggie—and Alvarado and Trammel—finished their own training and discovered the tire was missing.

Funny thing was, it wasn’t like the dogs gave a shit. Meatball found a piece of frayed rope she seemed to like just as much, and Reggie chased her off to a corner where they could gnaw on the thing together. But Alvarado saw Lucy, saw the tire, and Alvarado took it personal.

“Burke.” Alvarado’s voice could turn heads across the yard, and it did. Mason heard him approach, knew what was coming. Turned and saw Alvarado and Trammel steamrolling across the yard toward him, and knew immediately that this wasn’t about a tire toy anymore.

Confrontation at Chippewa, no matter the spark, burned over one fundamental question, and that question was power. Didn’t matter if it was the guy butting in on you in the cafeteria line, or a hard foul on the basketball court in the yard. Everything inside came down to which man was tougher, which man would give way. And once you found yourself challenged, there was no easy way out. There certainly were no points given for peace.

Not that Mason didn’t try. He took the tire from Lucy, who’d already seemed to sense the new tension on the yard. Tossed it to Porter Trammel, who caught it and grimaced at the amount of drool that coated the thing.

“Come on, Luce,” Mason said, standing and starting toward the pile of toys. “We’ll find you something else.”

Except to get to that pile of toys, Mason had to walk past the two men who’d challenged him. And Alvarado wasn’t about to let the issue die. He moved over as Mason passed, bumped him, stood in his way.

“Stay in your lane, hillbilly,” Alvarado said. “Keep that dog in line.”