Anyway, so the photos are nice. But that’s about it. Everything else in the house is old, like it-came-from-a-dumpster old, because Maria doesn’t believe in buying new things. She sure wouldn’t like life in Vegas much!

Stony Butte Elementary is sort of like Maria’s house, minus the cool photos. It’s about three hundred years old and smells like someone ate a couple of pounds of glue and then barfed it back up.

Maria’s house is right on the edge of town, near one of the buttes, which are big rocks that stick up in the air. They remind me of Tonka toys a giant forgot to pick up. The butte closest to us has two rounded parts on top and it looks like a big bum in the sky. Seriously. It’s kind of crazy. The rock butts are the only reason this town exists, far as I can tell. People come here to climb them and mountain bike up them and jump off them. Quite a few Western movies have been filmed here, as my mom has pointed out about twelve hundred times, because she seems to think that will make me like Stony Butte more. Does anyone under sixty even watch Western movies?

Here’s an interesting thing. Yesterday, my mom picked us up after school, but from now on I have to walk home alone. Can you imagine us doing that at Circle Square? The teachers would have called the authorities! Mom says we have to walk home alone every day because she is going to be busy working and because she can’t afford to have someone come and pick us up. It’s no fun being broke, but when my dad gets out of treatment, he can play a few big games and he’ll be back on top and things can go back to normal. Rule #6 for Living a Lucky Life: You’ve Got to Answer the Door When Luck Knocks. At least I think that’s the rule that fits best here.

I guess Maria, who travels all over the world with her girlfriend who’s also a climber, said we could stay as long as we want if we pay her mortgage. Considering how not-nice her house is, it’s probably about five dollars a month.

Anyway, today I was about halfway home from school when someone rode up beside me on a BMX bike. No helmet! Who rides a bike without head protection?

He nodded his helmet-less head at me and I nodded back.

“I’m in your class,” he said, pedaling slowly. I’d never seen anyone pedal that slowly before. You’d have been impressed.

“Oh,” I said.

“I’m Ben,” he said.

I was so shocked by the no-helmet thing that I didn’t know what to say.

Then Ben jumped his bike on and off the curb sideways and sort of swung it around 180 degrees under him. With no helmet!