It’s not on, Maggie. If I have to, I’ll see you guys in family court. Paulie might not like Conner anymore. That’s his privilege. But when he starts vandalizing our stuff—that I am not going to allow.”
She turned around, called into the house, “Paulie?” Then,
“Paulie!”
He came, not looking afraid in the least, Dan noted. He was growing up, Paulie Warner was. The peach fuzz was getting dark, the eyes getting hard.
“Did you bust up their pool?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you did—or your friend did. I think they have a little gang, Maggie. What’s your little gang called, Paulie?”
“I don’t have a gang.”
Maggie shoved his shoulder. “Where’s Conner, Paulie?”
“He couldn’t come.”
“They cut him out and the gang is called the Connerbusters, and they invaded our yard with the intention of vandalizing us, and I’m not gonna stand for it, Maggie.”
“Okay! Hey!” Maggie called into the house. Boys began to appear, just young enough to be a bit wide-eyed with worry. “Party’s over, fellas. Call your parents and tell ’em to pick you up. You can wait on the front porch, I don’t want you in here anymore. I’ve already had a shelf busted in my fridge—”
“That was an accident, Mom!”
“—and now the neighbors are complaining and I’ve had it. You go up to your room, young man.”
Paulie started to speak, but she cuffed him in the back of the head. “Learn how to choose your friends, dummy,” she said.
He went upstairs, his face red, fighting tears.
As Dan left, the other boys filtered out behind him. They crowded together on the front porch, blowing on their hands and waiting for their rides. He walked across the yards, feeling the cold now through his cotton chinos and his light sweater. The kids sure were growing up, and it was sad. Last July, he supposed, had been the high summer of Conner’s childhood. He remembered those days of his own life. He’d been like some kind of water creature, like all the kids who lived along the lakes of Madison.
He went over to the pool. The moon was rising, and in its light he could see that the little creep had done a fair job on the fiberglass.
As he was walking back to the house, something caught his eye—a flash, he thought, coming from somewhere to the west, in the direction of the town. An explosion? There was no following rumble, so he supposed not. Nothing ever happened around here, anyway . . . except for kid trouble. Kids were a problem in any college town. Bored, affluent, smart, faculty brats were a notorious irritant on every campus he’d ever worked.
He went in and gently explained to Conner what had happened. “Son, there will be no fallout from this. You’ll see, Monday morning in school it’ll be as if none of it ever happened.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Count on it. They went a step too far, that’s all. They’re testing, trying to figure out who they want to be—and they’re not like you, they’re much simpler, to be honest. So even though they’re older, in many ways they’re less mature.”
“Dan, do you think you could find out about the Wilton public schools for me, since I really can’t return to B.A? I think the, uh, middle school—what’s it called, Colonel Saunders Memorial or something—has a rather good reputation in shop. And, of course, the football team is the stuff of local legend. Who knows, maybe I can try out for back end.”
Dan saw that there was nothing to be gained by arguing with him. He’d go up and report to Katelyn.
As he left, Conner said, “Promise me, Dan. Call Wilton.”
“I’ll call them first thing Monday.”
“And that boot camp in Lockridge. I could commute, actually, on the Louisville bus. I wouldn’t have to live in the barracks or anything.”
“Yeah, that’s a possibility, too.” Dan turned to leave and, to his surprise,saw a boy standing just beyond the deck. His shape was clearly visible in the moonlight. He was not one of the gangling
She turned around, called into the house, “Paulie?” Then,
“Paulie!”
He came, not looking afraid in the least, Dan noted. He was growing up, Paulie Warner was. The peach fuzz was getting dark, the eyes getting hard.
“Did you bust up their pool?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you did—or your friend did. I think they have a little gang, Maggie. What’s your little gang called, Paulie?”
“I don’t have a gang.”
Maggie shoved his shoulder. “Where’s Conner, Paulie?”
“He couldn’t come.”
“They cut him out and the gang is called the Connerbusters, and they invaded our yard with the intention of vandalizing us, and I’m not gonna stand for it, Maggie.”
“Okay! Hey!” Maggie called into the house. Boys began to appear, just young enough to be a bit wide-eyed with worry. “Party’s over, fellas. Call your parents and tell ’em to pick you up. You can wait on the front porch, I don’t want you in here anymore. I’ve already had a shelf busted in my fridge—”
“That was an accident, Mom!”
“—and now the neighbors are complaining and I’ve had it. You go up to your room, young man.”
Paulie started to speak, but she cuffed him in the back of the head. “Learn how to choose your friends, dummy,” she said.
He went upstairs, his face red, fighting tears.
As Dan left, the other boys filtered out behind him. They crowded together on the front porch, blowing on their hands and waiting for their rides. He walked across the yards, feeling the cold now through his cotton chinos and his light sweater. The kids sure were growing up, and it was sad. Last July, he supposed, had been the high summer of Conner’s childhood. He remembered those days of his own life. He’d been like some kind of water creature, like all the kids who lived along the lakes of Madison.
He went over to the pool. The moon was rising, and in its light he could see that the little creep had done a fair job on the fiberglass.
As he was walking back to the house, something caught his eye—a flash, he thought, coming from somewhere to the west, in the direction of the town. An explosion? There was no following rumble, so he supposed not. Nothing ever happened around here, anyway . . . except for kid trouble. Kids were a problem in any college town. Bored, affluent, smart, faculty brats were a notorious irritant on every campus he’d ever worked.
He went in and gently explained to Conner what had happened. “Son, there will be no fallout from this. You’ll see, Monday morning in school it’ll be as if none of it ever happened.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Count on it. They went a step too far, that’s all. They’re testing, trying to figure out who they want to be—and they’re not like you, they’re much simpler, to be honest. So even though they’re older, in many ways they’re less mature.”
“Dan, do you think you could find out about the Wilton public schools for me, since I really can’t return to B.A? I think the, uh, middle school—what’s it called, Colonel Saunders Memorial or something—has a rather good reputation in shop. And, of course, the football team is the stuff of local legend. Who knows, maybe I can try out for back end.”
Dan saw that there was nothing to be gained by arguing with him. He’d go up and report to Katelyn.
As he left, Conner said, “Promise me, Dan. Call Wilton.”
“I’ll call them first thing Monday.”
“And that boot camp in Lockridge. I could commute, actually, on the Louisville bus. I wouldn’t have to live in the barracks or anything.”
“Yeah, that’s a possibility, too.” Dan turned to leave and, to his surprise,saw a boy standing just beyond the deck. His shape was clearly visible in the moonlight. He was not one of the gangling
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