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“Yeah,” he says. “And then I was supposed to go down and visit her next weekend, but she called the other day and cancelled. She just found out she’s pregnant. Forty years old and pregnant again, starting a whole new family. So it looks like there’s never going to be a right time for me and her.”

“That sucks,” I say. Suddenly I feel very close to him. It’s weird how bad things can draw people together. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

“You know what?” I bump my shoulder against his. “I used to think you were really a weird kid.”

“And now you don’t?”

“No, I still think you’re weird, but it’s a good kind of weird.”

“Thanks.” He chuckles. “That’s about the best compliment I’ve ever had. It’s even better coming from you.”

I look away, smiling. “You know, there’s something I’ve been wondering about. Why didn’t you ever talk in English class? That would’ve been fun. I’d love to have seen Mrs. Halber’s face when she heard you coming with your misfit revolution stuff.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Teachers don’t like it when you’re too smart. And guys want to beat you up.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You wouldn’t, huh?”

“I promise you.”

He laughs. “You know, you’re the only one in this town I had any interest in getting to know.”

“Me?”

“Of course. I mean, look at you. You have this incredible energy about you. I saw it the first time you walked into English class, like you owned the room. I thought, Look at that girl. She doesn’t let what people think of her change one little thing she does. It was pretty magnificent.”

“Yeah?” I say. “So that time you gave me a ride home, why did you say I didn’t have any idea who I really am?”

“Because you don’t. How could you? You’re so much more than you could ever think you are. Thoughts aren’t even big enough for it.”

“Oh.”

We meet each other’s gaze for a second, then both look away. I wish I knew some perfect thing to say back to him, but I don’t.

Across the field, the moonlight washes across the broken machinery, the high grass, and the sunflower stalks. Glancing down at Mr. White’s hand, I wonder if he’ll put it on my knee again. He doesn’t, though. We just sit there side by side until it’s time to go, and that’s just fine.

At home, the parents are lying in wait. No sooner am I in the door than Dad pops out of the shadows and orders me into the kitchen for a talk. Mom’s already in there. She sets a slice of pie on the table in front of me, like she can buy me off with that.

Dad sits across from me, his hands folded on the tabletop. Mom sits to my right. “Where have you been?” Dad says. He sounds like an FBI agent interrogating a terrorist suspect.

“Out with a friend,” I say.

Dad wants to know who this friend is. Mom’s probably already called all the usual suspects, so I tell the truth. “Padgett Locke,” I say. “You wouldn’t know him. He’s new in town.”

“You didn’t see Bobby?” Mom asks.

“No. He’s probably in deep hiding after the way you guys treated him.”

“Don’t try to lay the blame on us,” Dad says.

“We just want what’s best for him,” Mom adds.

I can’t look at them. Everything about them seems annoying right now. My dad’s built like a cement mixer with a Bassmaster T-shirt on. Even my mother’s hair annoys me. It’s so perfect. How can it be so perfect when everything else is so messed up?

“This is a serious thing,” Dad says. “It can affect your brother’s whole future, getting discharged that way—without honor.”

“Bobby’s not the one without honor,” I say, staring at the limp slice of pie. “He did his part.”

“Ceejay,” Mom says, “we don’t love Bobby any less. We want to help him, get him back on the right path.”

Dad follows up with, “Your brother needs to know—and so do you—that the choices you make matter. They have consequences. You can’t go around being a wild kid all your life. You have to take that long step into responsibility land. I know. I had to do it.”

Finally I look up at him. “So what kind of choice did you make today, Dad? You ran Bobby out of the house. You wouldn’t even let him tell his whole story. And Mom, you didn’t even make Lacy come back here for her own brother’s homecoming from the war. Those are some real great choices.”

Dad stares at me, and I try to match him but have to turn away before the tears start.

“Ceejay, your sister is doing what she has to do right now,” Mom says. “I talked about it with her. It’s not like she didn’t want to come. It’s just a hard time with your grandmother right now.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around your brother or you,” Dad says. “Your grandma has cancer. Do you understand that? Cancer.”

I nod.

Dad goes on, “I don’t know what’s wrong with your brother. Maybe some army buddy of his got him on that hashish, but that’s a weak man’s way to go, and that’s not how I raised your brother or you.”

“Bobby’s not weak,” I say, my eyes and face burning.

“If he’s not,” Dad says, “then he’ll come back here and face up to us. He’ll face up to us and to himself. And then he’ll get his butt in gear and face up to his responsibilities as a man. If he gets in touch with you, you tell him that.”

“And tell him we love him,” Mom adds.

I shove the untouched plate of pie away. “Is that all?”

Dad leans back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest. “For now,” he says.

Of course, Bobby doesn’t have any intention of facing the parental firing squad. He doesn’t even come back for his duffel bag. He sends Chuck over Sunday afternoon instead. Mom’s sweet to him about it, but even she can’t hide how crushed she is that her son wouldn’t come get it himself. Dad doesn’t say a thing. That’s his strategy. He thinks all Bobby needs is to do a little growing up, as if he’s just going through a phase like a junior high boy whose voice is changing or a girl getting her boobs.

Everybody has some kind of opinion about Bobby. Mom acts like he’s a little boy with a bruised knee, and if he’d just come home and let her put something on it, everything would be all right. Brianna thinks he lost the big fun side of himself in the war. Gillis says he can’t be too worried about Bobby if he’s
still nailing some sweet ass off Mona, and Tillman thinks Bobby hasn’t really changed all that much. He says Bobby was always crazy, but it’s just not funny now that he’s out of high school.

I don’t pay too much attention to Tillman’s opinion, though. He’s nursed a grudge against Bobby ever since fifth grade when Bobby came down hard on him for playing keep-away with skinny little Ronald Farquar’s glasses. “You think Ronald’s pathetic?” Bobby told him. “Well, from where I’m standing, you’re the one who’s pathetic, taking a little dude’s glasses away from him like that. Now, why don’t you and your giant Adam’s apple give ’em back before I go jackass wild all over your frame.”

Before that, Tillman had always looked up to Bobby, which just made it worse. Especially the Adam’s apple part. I guess that’s how it is, though—you don’t want to think you’re wrong, so you have to think the other person is.

At work, Uncle Jimmy tells me not to worry too much about Bobby. It’s just the wild life of the army he’s still living. Uncle Jimmy’s had buddies who came back from being stationed in places like Taiwan and Malaysia and they knew how to get their party on better than anyone he’d ever met. Even Jerry throws in his two cents. To him, Bobby sounds like Batman, a superhero with a dark side that he’s bound to overcome. Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jerry thought most people were superheroes compared to his goofy little self. Probably thinks I’m Wonder Woman.

The only person that doesn’t really have an opinion is Chuck. He just says Bobby is Bobby. That’s Chuck for you. He looks at things for what they are. Then one day, I call his apartment, and he drops an absolute bomb on me—Bobby isn’t staying with him anymore. He moved in with Dani.

Don’t you know my heart just about caves in through the
rickety floor of my stomach when I hear that? How am I ever going to talk him into moving into a little rent house with me if he’s shacking up with some girl?

I’m like, “Dani! You have to be kidding. I thought he was still all hot for Mona.”

“Maybe he is, but what’s he going to do—move into her attic or something? I don’t think her husband would like that too much.”

“What about Jace?”

“Dani gave him the boot. Packed up all his stuff and told him never to come back. Can’t blame her, can you? That guy’s a tool.”

This sounds like a completely terrible idea, and not just because I was hoping me and Bobby would get our place together. Dani is just not a good match. Sure, she’s Tillman’s sister and everything, but there’s something a little diabolical about her. She gravitates toward trouble. Mistakes ugly drama for passion.

Later, when I talk to Tillman, he’s not too happy about it either, though for the opposite reason. He claims he actually likes Jace. Thinks Jace is great with Dani’s little boy. “I don’t want to say anything bad about Bobby,” he tells me, “but he’s semi-psychotic.”

I’m like, “Screw you. He is not.”

“Well, all I can say is he better treat my sister right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

Nevertheless, he ends up agreeing to call his sister and get us invited out there. I want to see just how permanent this situation appears, and Tillman says it’ll give him a chance to see how Bobby is with his sister and her son, Ian. “I want to see for myself how Bobby stacks up next to Jace,” he says. “I have an idea that’ll be real interesting.”

I don’t like the sound of his voice. It’s almost like he’s plotting something. Sometimes Tillman can be a little sinister, just like his sister, but I figure he’s not smart enough to pull off anything too evil.

So the next evening rolls around and it’s me, Tillman, Brianna, and Gillis heading to Dani’s trailer. As we pull away from Brianna’s, I casually drop the suggestion that maybe we should see if Padgett can come with us, and Brianna’s like, “Padgett? You’re calling Mr. White
Padgett
now?”

“Yeah,” says Gillis. “What’s the deal? Are you going romantic for this idiot or something?”

I’m like, “What are you talking about? It’s just that he’s been good with Bobby. That’s all.”

“Forget it,” says Tillman. “We’re not taking that pussy over to my sister’s house.”

I start to argue but decide against it. What can I say? I’m not even too sure why I want to bring him along.

As we pull onto the winding gravel drive that leads to Dani’s trailer, Bobby’s motorcycle comes into view—he must have gone by and picked it up from Uncle Jimmy—and then so does Captain Crazy’s lime-green pickup truck. I’m not exactly happy to see that, but Tillman is completely pissed.

“Are you kidding me?” he says. “Your brother’s bringing Captain Crazy over here? I knew Dani taking him in was a bad idea.”

“Just shut up,” I tell him. That’s the only argument I can come up with. It’s not like I want to put out a lot of energy defending the captain as appropriate company for Dani’s two-year-old.

Dani meets us at the door and takes us inside. Bobby’s sitting at the kitchen table with little Ian, in his booster seat, on
one side and the captain on the other. He looks a little too much at home for my taste.

The captain shoots a big, bright smile our way. He has a napkin tucked into his collar for a bib, but it looks like his beard’s doing the real work as far as catching crumbs. They’re finishing a heat-up pizza and Ian has tomato sauce smeared across his face. He looks like one of those little bitty clowns that come piling out of a miniature car at the circus.

Dani tells us to get ourselves some pizza and beer and have a seat in the living room. She also has some ice cream and strawberries for after the pizza’s gone. It’s weird—she seems to be trying to come off as some kind of grown-uppy party hostess like you see on TV, but you can’t really take her seriously. I mean, Martha Stewart probably threw dinner parties for more upscale groups than us even when she was in prison.

It’s like I’ve stepped into the middle of some demented freak-show family, and Bobby’s the head of the household.

Once everyone’s finished with their ice cream, we’re left in the living room staring at each other. Tillman gets up and heads back to the bathroom. I glimpse him pulling his phone out of his pocket and have to wonder who he’s calling. Just about everybody who will put up with him is already here.

Sitting on the couch, the captain is beaming. It’s like he can’t believe his luck to be invited to such a gathering. “Well,” he says, giving his knees a hearty slap. “We’ve got ’em on the run today, don’t we?”

“Got who on the run?” Gillis asks.

The captain just smiles and winks at him. Ian toddles across the room, stops in front of the captain and stares at him. Dani tells him to come back over to her, but the captain’s like,
“Let him stare. I don’t mind. Not a bit. Children are attracted to the Yimmies. You can’t blame them.”

Dani’s like, “The what?” and the captain goes, “The Yimmies, man. They’re here today. Very much beautifully so.”

Dani looks at Bobby for an explanation, but he just says, “The Yimmies. Dude. That’s what I’m after.” He studies the captain and Ian with a satisfied expression on his face, like the captain and him have been friends for decades.

“Ian,” says the captain, “would you like to see an aero-velocipede?”

Ian nods and the captain sits on the floor, pretending to pull levers, push pedals, and guide a steering wheel, all while making a sputtering engine noise with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Ian claps his hands and squeals with glee. Then the captain hops up and runs around the room with his arms jutting out like wings until he knocks over a lamp and pretends to crash down onto the orange carpet. The way Ian stamps his feet and laughs, you’d think his favorite cartoon character just walked into the room.

Bobby glances at Dani and jabs his thumb in the direction of the captain as if to say, “See, that’s why I invited him to come over in the first place.”