“And you’re just now telling me that?” I shook my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

JP poked Tyson’s rib cage. “Why didn’t you tell David earlier?”

“I forgot!”

“What’d you tell him?” I said.

“Who?”

“Poke him again, JP.”

“Stop!” Tyson scooted over some. “Who?”

“Your dad, dumbass. Who you think I’m talking about?”

“Oh yeah. I said we didn’t see anything. Then he didn’t ask me anything else.”

“That’s the most anticlimactic story I’ve ever heard,” JP said.

We were quiet and smoked our butts. After those, I had none left. The sun was setting fast and a few bright stars dotted the sky.

“I wish I’d been there,” JP said.

. . .

It was dark when I got home. Frick’s truck was parked behind Mom’s car. No lights were on in the house. Mom’s laughter poured out from behind our neighbor’s backyard, where a fire burned hot and fast, and her and Frick’s shadows pressed against the edge of the woods, swaying.

The house was cold. I turned on the kitchen light, went over to the woodstove, and touched the icy steel.

I dug in the wood box for newspaper but there wasn’t any. On the kitchen table some bills lay sprawled as if they were thrown, an empty brown paper bag upright as if set down gently, and a pile of that day’s local paper was neatly stacked. Mom always brought them back from the store for the woodstove.

I put the local papers in the wood box but kept one out, and I glanced at each page before I crumpled and stuffed them in the woodstove. A story about a 5K fundraiser, accompanied by a large picture of a woman running, covered most of the front page. Another story came below, something about a bill for higher taxes, and continued on to a later page. Stories of animal shelters overflowing and grand openings of stores that never lasted and the governor’s new plan for more jobs seemed to compose in no order the paper. There were stories on retirement homes and even a story of a car salesman’s journey to sales titled “Transformer.” They all had stupid titles.

I continued to glance at, crinkle, and toss each page into the woodstove until my eyes fixed on “Crime and Court.”

I froze, fingers clenching the paper.

Rock ’n’ Roll

Police say that last night a local bar had its windows smashed out in what they’re calling vandalism. According to the police report, at 8:45 PM, patrons of the local Overtown Bar stood outside smoking when two teenage boys approached them and asked for cigarettes. When the patrons refused, the teenagers became infuriated and began to harass them, eventually picking up rocks and throwing them toward the establishment.