I wondered what time it was. Panic crept over me. But soon I heard footsteps coming down the opposite way of the path. It sounded like feet were sliding, dragging across ground.

I hid under the horse bridge and the feet scuffed against the wood above my head.

“David?” A voice whispered.

“Below.”

He was breathing hard and the moon off the river divided his face. We stared at each other until we erupted with laughter.

“Oh, man.” I wiped the tears away from my eyes. I had laughed so hard I cried.

“I gotta get home,” Tyson said, still laughing.

“Me too.” I reached in my pocket. “Let’s smoke this last cigarette while we walk.”

Tyson told me that he couldn’t go into the swamp. Someone was chasing him and was too close, so he led them farther up the road before turning down a path. He ran until he was sure he shook whoever it was and then cut through the woods. He’d already overshot the horse bridge and so he found the riverbank and came back toward it.

“I thought you were done for,” I said. “My heart was pounding.”

“You think we’ll get caught?”

“For what?” I asked.

“Breaking that window.”

“When did we do that?”

Tyson laughed. He took one last drag on the cigarette and put it out. We came out onto our road and we split off in opposite directions, his feet dragging farther and farther away.

Frick’s truck was gone. I looked out back of the house at a dwindling fire. Coals popped and little red sparks died in the cold air. Inside, the clock read ten. It felt later than that. Mom was in her rocking chair, sleeping, her head crooked sideways.

I shook her arm. “Hey,” I said. She jumped awake.

“You scared me, gwus,” she said, slurring her words. She shut her eyes again. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

She rocked forward and tried to stand. I grabbed her by the elbow and helped her up. I guided her down the hallway to her room.

I gave her a good-night kiss and she shut her door. I went around the house turning off all the lights. On the cedar chest in the living room, Mom had left her pack of Winston 100s and I stole three. I put one in my mouth but didn’t light it. In the kitchen, I spread the four twenties out on the table so they covered the small dent. Before I went to bed, I went around the house collecting ashtrays. I dumped them into the garbage, and ashes and filters sifted down over Mom’s half-eaten corn fritter.

. . .

The morning was cold, and my heart thumped. The sunlight lit my room, the trees outside too bare to shield this side of the house. Shivering, I pulled my blanket tight around my body and thought of the bar window and all the ways we would not get caught.