“That was no tiptoes job,” he said. “Maybe they put a felt pen on, like, a long stick or something.”

I gave him one of the chocolate bars I stole. They were both Butterfingers.

“I stole these,” I said.

“Why?” asked Ben.

“I don’t know. Same reason the person wrote that on the ceiling, I guess.”

Ben sat up. “I know I like to push things. It’s kind of a family thing. You know, with the sports and stuff. But there are things you shouldn’t push, man,” he said. “It’s just not worth it. My dad and my mom tell me and my brothers to keep our noses clean. Even a guy like you needs to be careful. When things go wrong, they can go real wrong.”

I didn’t completely know what he was talking about. After all, he did illegal jumps off cliffs and rode around school fields on his bike and broke bones.

“What do you mean, a guy like me?”

He smiled. Ben was pretty handsome, like his brothers. Maybe if you are extremely fit, you get good-looking. I’m just average, but maybe I’ll get more exceptional if I keep riding the bike.

“A white kid,” said Ben. “A rich one.”

“We’re not rich,” I said.

“Yeah, but you still seem sort of rich. Your mom drives those fancy wheels. You dress like a golfer or something. If you are only rich some of the time, it stays on you. Even when you’re not rich.”

I thought about that. Maybe he was right. If you started out poor, did that stay on you?

“I don’t like to give advice or anything, but if you have problems with your dad or whatever,” he said, “you don’t have to let it mess you up. You can be your own man.”

I wanted to tell him I was proud of my dad, but I didn’t. Because I don’t know what kind of man my dad is anymore. I thought about what Kate said about Larry’s mom. I’d been trying not to think about it. I didn’t want to know what my dad did to her, or to Missy Stephenson. Or why the female interns on his show quit all the time. Why Van Johnson wrote a song about him. I guess I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t want to know stuff. And being a man was feeling terrible in general.

Interesting note: the fact that chocolate bars are stolen doesn’t make them taste any better or worse.

Rodney

24

Dear Void,

Okay. That makes no sense. Dear Journal? Dear Universe? I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I don’t care.

On Sunday, Ben was already waiting outside our house before I finished eating breakfast.