“I said Coach Horton’s a prick.” I’m really feeling the whiskey now, and I begin to wonder how much I drank during the Sarahtown fantasy. “You won’t believe this, but one day he made a move on my … oh, never mind.”

“You been drinkin’, Ramsey?”

“A little bit,” I say. “Maybe a lot, I’m not sure. Hang on.” I pull out the pint and hold it in front of my face. It’s half-empty. I tuck it away. “Looks like I’ve had a lot, Barry. You mind if I smoke?”

He looks at me and shrugs.

“Cool,” I say, and light a cigarette.

“You need a ride home?”

I think about it. Truth is my legs are a little rubbery, and the alcohol has totally impaired my judgment and decision making. Suddenly, the simple task of a ten-minute walk home seems daunting.

So I say to Barry, “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Hop in.” He reaches over and opens the door.

I grab the handle for support and step up into Barry Deck’s green pickup.

As soon as I’m in he says, “You really want to go home right now? You might get in some trouble.”

“I can handle it. Just take me home, okay?”

He shuts off the radio and draws hard on his cigarette, the orange tip brightening to an intense red for several seconds. As he pulls away, the silence is uncomfortable and I realize I should’ve just stumbled home on my own.

A few minutes later we come to my street. Barry turns, idles past the first few houses and parks along the curb. The street is dark but I can see my house, five up on the right.

“I’m thinking of leaving it all behind,” he whispers.

“What do you mean?”

He waves me off. “That pint of yours,” he says. “You want the rest of it?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll take it. I need it.”

I fish it out and hand it to him. He takes a long drink.

“That’s more like it,” he says. He wedges the bottle between his legs. “What I mean, kid, is that there’s nothing left here for me—no wife, no kid, no job.”

“Look at it as your Blaine Escape Plan,” I say. “Hell, I’d jump at the chance to get out of this place. Soon as I’m eighteen, I’m gone. Captain Rick style.”

“You know how many people say that and never do it?”

“I’ll do it, Barry. No question about that.”

He takes a few more drinks in silence. Finally, he says, “I’ll tell you one thing. It’s hard being a man.”

“Yeah,” I say, a little creeped out with how weird this is getting. I tell myself to trust him, yet at the same time I have my right hand on the door handle just in case.

Outside, crickets chirp wildly.