“Stokes,” I said. “Not Smokes. You don’t know him? He’s the star of The Doug Stokes Show. It’s super funny. He makes fun of people who don’t believe in science or climate change or evolution and people who think the earth is flat and religious people who don’t understand about dinosaurs. He’s hilarious.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, which probably wasn’t easy because they already were practically closed from how angry and suspicious he was.

“What did you say?” he said, his voice low.

“I’m sorry?” I knew I’d messed up somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. You’re better than me at reading people. Maybe you would have known to be quiet. Unfortunately, I didn’t.

“Did you say religious people are dumb?”

I felt myself start to blink, which I do when I get stressed. I never used to blink much. That has changed since we moved to Stony Butte. These days I’m a blink lord.

“No,” I said, sounding weaselly, even to myself. “I never said that. I’m quoting Doug.”

“God is no joke, and He will strike down anyone who sullies his name,” said the kid.

“Oh.” I’d heard of people like this kid, but I never met one before.

“I should punch you in the face,” he said. “For making fun of God.”

“I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to. I like God.” I said this even though I don’t know anything about God because my parents messed up big time and forgot to teach me any religion. “Doug is just—that’s his shtick, I guess. Making fun of people who don’t, uh, agree with him.”

“What’s a shtick?” asked the kid. I didn’t say anything because what if I made him even madder? I didn’t answer, but he kept going, getting more worked up. You would have freaked out if you were there, Larry. Seriously. It was bad.

“Shut up,” he said, even though I didn’t say anything. “Before I shut you up.”

The kids around us were staring, and not in an I-feel-your-pain kind of way. Except for a girl sitting at the table next to us, who looked curious. She had a single braid wrapped around her head about four times.

“Did you meet him?” she asked. “Doug Stokes?”

Relief! Someone understood that it was cool to know Doug Stokes!

“Yeah. He came over for a party at our house. Our old house, I mean. Where we lived before here. We had a barbecue and everyone swam in the pool, including Doug. He came over to play p—I mean, there were a lot of people there. It was awesome. If you knew Doug like I knew Doug—” I said.

“A pool?” interrupted the girl. “An aboveground? Or an inflatable?”

“Uh, no. It was a proper pool. Olympic size.”