Tears streamed down Weed’s face and he swallowed hard as he remembered TV people and the newspapers calling Twister a tornado on the basketball court. Twister was tall like a tree, good-looking, and girls taped posters of him up in their bedrooms. He could have been a model or a movie star if he wanted.

He and Twister had no one but each other, and Twister used to take Weed swimming in the quarry, and to Regency Mall, and to Bullets for burgers and of course to the games, where he sat right behind Twister, who now and then turned around to wink at him in front of all those thousands of people. Weed missed Twister so much, he refused to believe Twister was gone for good.

“You lookin’?” Weed sobbed as he talked to his dead big brother. “See what I done? I worked real hard all alone in the dark. How come you ain’t here, Twister?”

A loud voice suddenly sounded behind him, and Weed almost came out of his shoes and screamed, his eyes huge.

“Don’t move!” Officer Brazil exclaimed.

Brazil was standing so close he could tackle Weed.

“What, what, what?” Weed stammered.

“What are you doing here?” Brazil demanded in that tone cops use to remind people that the law rules.

“Looking,” Weed said. “Nothing wrong with looking,” he added, hoping it was true.

“Looking at what?”

“The paint job. I heard about it,” Weed said. “So I came to look.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“I wasn’t talking.”

“I heard you,” Brazil said.

Weed had to revise. It took him a minute.

“I was praying to Jesus,” he said.

“About what?”

Brazil was trying to be mean, but Weed didn’t think he really was.

“About all these dead people,” Weed said.

“How did you get here. You walk?”

Weed nodded.

“Nobody gave you a ride? You’re by yourself?”

Weed shook his head.

“No to which?”

“Being here by myself,” Weed answered.

“Meaning you are here by yourself or you’re not?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Brazil had to get it straight. “You’re here by yourself?”

Weed nodded.

“And you got in by climbing over the fence.”

“Huh?”

“I saw you. You grabbed the Victory Rug Cleaning sign and climbed over.”

“Why you think they advertise on a cement-tary fence? Who they think gonna get their rugs done? Dead people?” Weed tried to divert the conversation.

“Why did you climb over the fence?” Brazil asked him.

“It was quicker.” Weed was trying to act cool but his heart was attacking him.

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“It’s a holiday.”

“Oh really?” Brazil asked. “Which one?”

“Can’t remember.”

“I’m pretty sure today isn’t a holiday,” Brazil said.

“Then how come there’s no school?” Weed said.

Brazil didn’t find Weed threatening in the least, but Brazil looked him over to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything Brazil ought to know about.

“Then what are you doing way over here?” Brazil asked.

Brazil stepped closer to the statue to get a better look at Magic Jeff. He couldn’t help but smile.