Page 69 of Summer Lessons

“Wow!” he said, bouncing. “Where’d this come from?”

“It’s my dad’s,” Cooper said. “He’s got like five of them in his business, but this one’s got the weakest rack on it. We use it for hauling. Tony knows where the dump is—he’s got a buddy who works there.”

“Who’s Tony?” Richie asked blankly.

“I’mTony, asshole!” Menendez spoke up. “Jesus, you don’t even look at a player roster?”

“I just thought you were Menendez,” Richie said, not apologetic at the least.

Terry shrugged. “I gotta admit, I woulda been hard-pressed to remember your actual first name. I mean, do you even know mine?”

Menendez gaped at them—and then flushed. “Gerry?” he hazarded.

Cooper busted up. “And I’m Wyatt! Pleased to meetya, everybody—it only took six years. Now do you want us to haul some trash?”

“A-fuckin’-men,” Terry sighed. “I’ll call you anything you want, just help us get this shit out of my driveway before dark!”

It took them four more hours—and three trips to the dump outside of Roseville—to clear out Terry’s backyard. In the end, it also took two Weedwackers to get the chin-high weeds down to knee level, and Terry used his old push mower to reduce that to stubble. Skipper jury-rigged a couple of cage lights from his and Cooper’s cars so that he and Richie could rake the last batch of cigarette butts, condoms, and bubble-gum wrappers from the stubble that remained. Everybody was filthy and exhausted, everybody had war wounds, and everyone had a war story about some horrible thing they’d discovered in the course of the day.

For Skip it was a cat skeleton. For Richie it was a pile of chicken bones. Carpenter had stepped in rabbit remains and screamed like an actress in a horror film.

Someone’s dog had been crapping steadily in the back corner, where the fence had broken down years ago. Dane had stepped inthatpile, and had been scraping the crap out of his waffle-stomper for an hour.

About the only thing thatwasn’twrong was hunger, and that was because Mason had ordered half-a-dozen extra-large pizzas from the nearest Round Table a little after noon, and people had been noshing steadily on that. He’d also run to Starbucks for a giant traveler of coffee, and that too had been appreciated.

But now they were done. All but the last bag had been hauled, and they stood, loose-limbed and happy with their day’s work, underneath the cage lights and told their horror stories like warriors after the battle.

“Oh my God!” Cooper was whooping. “That fucking gravel pile on the other side of the house—did you evenseethat shit?” he asked Carpenter.

Carpenter had a few bruises and punctures on his thigh that indicated he hadnotseen the pile of fish gravel before he got there with one of the Weedwackers.

“Oh hell,” Dane swore, coming out of the dusty, cramped house. They’d all gone in at one time or another to use the bathroom or wash their hands. The last of the pizza now sat in a box on the battered Formica table. “Dammit, Clay—here, come back inside and I’ll put some Neosporin on that shit.”

“I’m fine.” Carpenter waved him off. “Promise. It’s only a flesh wound.”

“That could get infected,” Mason said, a subtle warning in his voice. Dane would obsess, and whatever was between them, this was one of those sitches where it was easier to give in.

Carpenter blinked. “Fine, fine—geez, you two. Mason sprains his ankle and we’re all tragedy bound.” But he went.

“They thinkyou’rebad,” Terry said staunchly, “you should haveseenRichie and Carpenter freaking out when Skipper was sick in November.”

Mason started to laugh. “You mean when he answered the phone ‘Tesko’s teeth, how can I burp you?’”

There was general laughter.

“That’s not what I said!” Skipper protested.

“How would you know?” Mason teased. “I’ve neverheardanyone so stoned on cold medicine!”

Richie shook his head. “You guys should have heard him when he got home. He kept telling me he was going to join the gay soccer league with the cat.”

There was more generalized laughter, and at that moment, a car pulled into the driveway.

Terry moaned. “Guys—this is gonna be… well, awful, okay? Ignore everything she says. I’m hella grateful. You need me foranythingand I’m your guy. Rodents in the plumbing, monsters in the closets, I’m totally there.”

And with that rather cryptic promise, he trotted to the incoming car to help his mother.

“Who are these people, Terrence?” his mother snapped as soon as the door opened. “What have you been doing all day?”