Although he would never tell this to Lane, Billy also found his friend’s parents cold and aloof. Mr. Chapman was hardly ever home, but when he was, Lane stayed well out of his way. He seldom smiled, swore often, and did not like to waste his time talking to kids. Billy was not even sure Mr. Chapman knew his name, though he had been his son’s best friend since kindergarten. Mrs. Chapman was always home, but there was something false about her unwavering smile, something phony about her constant niceness. Lane, he knew, adored his mother, but Billy was not sure the feeling was reciprocated. Mrs. Chapman seemed about as warm and responsive as her precious white furnishings.

Before moving here to Pine Top Acres, the Chapmans had lived just down the way from Billy’s family in a prefab log home that Lane’s dad had built and that he used as a demonstration model for his contractor’s skills. Now the Chapmans had an unlisted phone number, and the only people allowed into the house were those few who had been invited.

Billy pressed the doorbell and heard the familiar musical chime sound dully from the depths of the house. A few moments later, Lane was at and out the door.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s hit the road. My dad’s home and he’s pissed. He just lost a contract to Gagh and Sons, and he’s in a bad mood. He’s threatening to take me to Crazy Carl again.”

Billy laughed. Crazy Carl was the town’s oldest barber. A World War II vet, with pictures of the Big One all over his tiny shop, he considered it his patriotic duty to make sure every boy’s hair was cut to a length he considered acceptable. No matter what style was requested, Carl would inevitably shave the hair down to a uniform butch. Once, years ago, Billy’s dad had taken him to Crazy Carl and had told the old man to just trim a little above the ears. Carl had shaved him almost completely bald, and he had been the laughingstock of his classroom for weeks. Neither he nor his dad had ever gone back again.

“He’s not serious, is he?” Billy asked.

“Hard to tell with my dad. He’s always threatening to send me off to military school or something.” He shook his head. “I’m getting tired of this crap. I swear to God. I’m hitting the road when I’m eighteen, and if my old man tries to stop me, I’ll deck him.”