“There, you see? He’s trying it with you, too. He’s trying to win over my friends now.” Tank puts his face in his hands and grunts. “I can’t believe what he’s done to her, buying her all that … that stuff. He’s coming home more often and even brings more food home now … which I guess is the only good part about it.”

“Speaking of food, there’s chicken in the fridge. KFC.”

“Screw the KFC,” Tank yells. “Don’t you see what’s about to happen? Jesus, man, it’s only a matter of time before guys come around. We’re seniors now, Zach. Sarah’s a senior. With a brain. And now she has this trendy new look or whatever, and … ” He rakes his hands across his head, frustrated. “God! I can’t take it. I know what’s coming, and I just can’t take it.” He pauses, looks at me. “All guys are the same, especially seniors. I mean, take you and me. What topic dominates our conversations?”

“Uh … partying?”

He gives me a look. “And?”

I say nothing.

“Say it, Zach.”

“Say what?”

“You know what. Say it!”

“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Sex.”

“Exactly,” he says. “Which means dudes our age will now start thinking about Sarah that way.” He points toward my chest. “And I can’t have that, my friend. No, sir. That is something I just can’t have.”

“Well,” I say, unable to look him in the eyes. “She does look good, Tank.”

“Shut up! What, do you like her now or something?”

“No, no,” I lie, “not like that. I’m just stating a fact. She looks good, okay?”

“Jesus. I can’t deal with this. Sarah’s brilliant. She’s going places, places I’ll never see. I don’t want some idiot guy stepping in and blocking her path.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“Noble?” He cocks his head. “Don’t use big words. What’s that mean?”

“Honorable,” I say. “Noble means honorable. Forget it. I meant it as a compliment.”

He turns off the TV and starts to dress. “The way I see it,” he says, digging through his top dresser drawer and sliding on a pair of jeans, “I’m responsible for Sarah until she’s eighteen, which means she’s under my control for one more year.”

He finishes dressing and hustles over to a paneled wooden door to the right of the stairs. The door leads to a basement crawlspace. It’s Tank’s favorite hiding spot, so I’m not surprised to hear him open and close the squeaky door quickly, walking back toward me with his hands behind his back and an all-knowing smile on his face.

“Hey, Zach, look.”

I look.