scream. This realization fills Danny with a sudden and fierce sadness that he can’t explain.
“Any dumbass knows you don’t steal from your neighbour.”
“Well, what’s the difference? He’s helping us do it.”
Truck laughs, and the Adam’s apple works like a bobber on his neck. “He’s just letting us know that it’s there if we’re interested. He’s helping out his friends. You know how much money a good haul like that could bring in?”
“No idea. A lot probably.”
Truck spread out his hands, a gesture that seemed to say,
Now you’re catching on
.
“Darrin’s an idiot. He’s too high to know how to spot an easy mark.”
“Jesus, Dan. Just listen for a second. I haven’t even gotten to the surefire part yet.”
Danny bites his lip and waits. He doesn’t want to hear the surefire part, or maybe he does. Truth is, he’s found work so hard to get lately, if something did come along that was surefire—not that he believes in such a thing—but say something came along that was pretty good odds, then he’d be tempted to consider it. He wants to move out of his mom’s trailer and go back to school. He’d have to get his GED first, but that can’t be too hard. Then he can get his own place and enrol in some online classes. Mom’s friend, Shannon, takes them and she says when she finishes, she’ll be certified to be a court reporter or a legal assistant. Danny doesn’t want to do those things, but he wants to do something. Maybe take art classes. That’s what he’s always loved, seeing something and making it come alive on paper. There are angles and shadows he sees all the time that he frames inside his head and wants to get down on paper just right, but he’s usually with Truck who scoffs at art, or if he’s not with Truck he’s laid up in the bed trying to sleep off one of Truck’s marathon benders he’d been foolish enough to participate in. Seems stupid really. The one thing that gives him joy, the one thing he loves to do, he mostly just remembers doing a long time ago.
Truck is talking again, and Danny forces himself to listen. There’s no surefire, he reminds himself, but maybe that works both ways. No surefire failures either. Just listen, he tells himself.
“There’s a vacant house for sale across the street from the rich fucks. Darrin says there’s a window in the back that’s not locked. We sneak in there and case the place from across the street. You know watch the neighbourhood, learn their schedules. When we’ve got it down, we make our move. They’ve got a garage, so once we break in, we just need to get Chet’s van inside, and I figure we can have at least four or five hour—”
“Hold it,” Danny says. “When did Chet get involved?”
“When we needed a van. You got a van?”
“No, but Chet will do something stupid. Chet will get us caught.”
Truck pauses, and Danny knows it’s because of the truth of what he’s said about Chet. Chet is just like them. From the trailer park, a drop-out, a kid whose future has seemed pretty bleak since the time he could walk, but Chet is also different than Truck and Danny. When Chet kept getting fired from jobs after dropping out of school, he started finding other ways to make money. He would often get people to pay him to do things they didn’t want to do. When part of Gray Pierce’s trailer collapsed and pinned his golden retriever, Sally, to the ground, the aluminum siding almost cutting her in two, he paid Chet twenty-five dollars to shoot her and fifty more to clean her body off the siding. More recently, Chet has found his true calling, doing stupid, dangerous stuff that people around here seem to think is hilarious. Danny had seen him eating grass until he threw-up while some woman stood by with her baby on her hip, urging him to eat more and more. Another time somebody paid him to let them hammer a nail through his cheek. He had to ask Truck along for this one to help him get the nail out after he got
“Any dumbass knows you don’t steal from your neighbour.”
“Well, what’s the difference? He’s helping us do it.”
Truck laughs, and the Adam’s apple works like a bobber on his neck. “He’s just letting us know that it’s there if we’re interested. He’s helping out his friends. You know how much money a good haul like that could bring in?”
“No idea. A lot probably.”
Truck spread out his hands, a gesture that seemed to say,
Now you’re catching on
.
“Darrin’s an idiot. He’s too high to know how to spot an easy mark.”
“Jesus, Dan. Just listen for a second. I haven’t even gotten to the surefire part yet.”
Danny bites his lip and waits. He doesn’t want to hear the surefire part, or maybe he does. Truth is, he’s found work so hard to get lately, if something did come along that was surefire—not that he believes in such a thing—but say something came along that was pretty good odds, then he’d be tempted to consider it. He wants to move out of his mom’s trailer and go back to school. He’d have to get his GED first, but that can’t be too hard. Then he can get his own place and enrol in some online classes. Mom’s friend, Shannon, takes them and she says when she finishes, she’ll be certified to be a court reporter or a legal assistant. Danny doesn’t want to do those things, but he wants to do something. Maybe take art classes. That’s what he’s always loved, seeing something and making it come alive on paper. There are angles and shadows he sees all the time that he frames inside his head and wants to get down on paper just right, but he’s usually with Truck who scoffs at art, or if he’s not with Truck he’s laid up in the bed trying to sleep off one of Truck’s marathon benders he’d been foolish enough to participate in. Seems stupid really. The one thing that gives him joy, the one thing he loves to do, he mostly just remembers doing a long time ago.
Truck is talking again, and Danny forces himself to listen. There’s no surefire, he reminds himself, but maybe that works both ways. No surefire failures either. Just listen, he tells himself.
“There’s a vacant house for sale across the street from the rich fucks. Darrin says there’s a window in the back that’s not locked. We sneak in there and case the place from across the street. You know watch the neighbourhood, learn their schedules. When we’ve got it down, we make our move. They’ve got a garage, so once we break in, we just need to get Chet’s van inside, and I figure we can have at least four or five hour—”
“Hold it,” Danny says. “When did Chet get involved?”
“When we needed a van. You got a van?”
“No, but Chet will do something stupid. Chet will get us caught.”
Truck pauses, and Danny knows it’s because of the truth of what he’s said about Chet. Chet is just like them. From the trailer park, a drop-out, a kid whose future has seemed pretty bleak since the time he could walk, but Chet is also different than Truck and Danny. When Chet kept getting fired from jobs after dropping out of school, he started finding other ways to make money. He would often get people to pay him to do things they didn’t want to do. When part of Gray Pierce’s trailer collapsed and pinned his golden retriever, Sally, to the ground, the aluminum siding almost cutting her in two, he paid Chet twenty-five dollars to shoot her and fifty more to clean her body off the siding. More recently, Chet has found his true calling, doing stupid, dangerous stuff that people around here seem to think is hilarious. Danny had seen him eating grass until he threw-up while some woman stood by with her baby on her hip, urging him to eat more and more. Another time somebody paid him to let them hammer a nail through his cheek. He had to ask Truck along for this one to help him get the nail out after he got
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