“Like she threatened to tell his dad, who would—” Ben punched a fist into his hand twice to show what would happen to Fisherman.

I felt my mouth drop open and my eyes dry up. “His dad will hit him?” I said. My dad would definitely never do that.

“Yeah. I think he’s a hard man. But then Fisherman’s aunt said if he makes amends, she won’t tell anyone. She said he’s going to be working on that ranch for free until he’s twenty-five.”

I thought about Fisherman’s dad hitting him. My stomach was upset from thinking about it.

“She muttered something about telling on me, but I don’t think she’ll do it.” I noticed he put his finger on the doorframe, like he was touching wood. “Guess we shouldn’t have played with those guns,” said Ben. “But they should probably keep them in a safe or something. It’s pretty dangerous, when you think about it. Kids could get at them.”

I didn’t tell him that technically we are kids. And I didn’t go near them. All I did was go in a pasture to hug a horse. And steal some chocolate bars.

“I just wanted to tell you it’s okay. The horse is fine. And Rodney?”

I leaned in. “Yes?”

“My friend, you have got to relax.”

Then he turned, jumped down the stairs, ran along beside his bike and then jumped on and was gone.

My friend.

Then I got a text from Rigmor. She asked if I wanted to meet her at the track. She said she didn’t want to run laps alone. I hoped that meant I could just watch her, because I was tired. But I said yes, even though there was a risk of running.

My life has a lot of serious problems, but at least I have stuff to do and people to do it with.

Rodney

26

Hey, Universe,

Me again. I’m not done yet! This is like the never-ending story!

Anyway, when I got to the track, Rigmor was stretching. I felt sort of strange and empty after all the stuff that had happened.

“You going to run?” asked Rigmor.

I had on shorts and a button-up shirt. And my helmet.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m kind of tired.”

“You going to take off your helmet?”

I took it off and put it on the grass.

Rigmor straightened up and looked at me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. It was strange how she seemed to know me even though we just started being friends.

Her nearly white hair reminded me of people in Holland. We went there once when I was eight. I remember people being really tall. And they put chocolate sprinkles on white bread. I wish people did that here.

“Is Norway like Holland?” I asked her.

“Not to Norwegians,” she said. “And anyways, I was born here.”