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what?
Eric wondered.
    â€œWe carried eight bags,” Griffin reminded Eric. “A little gum is the least old Chavez can give us. We earned it. Nothing wrong with that.”
    â€œI guess,” Eric said, though he didn’t think so. But still, it was only gum. He asked, “Then why do you turn down tips?”
    â€œIt’s about building trust,” Griffin explained. “I mean, what are they going to give me? A freaking dollar? A handful of crusty nickels and dimes? Trust is worth more than chump change, Eric—way more. It’s like holding a winning lottery ticket. You just have to wait for the right time before cashing it in.”

10
[friend]
    THERE WAS NOBODY HOME AT GRIFFIN ’ S HOUSE .
    â€œI thought you said your father would be here,” Eric said.
    â€œHe works weird hours,” Griffin explained. “When I left, he was zonked out on that couch right there. He’s probably out getting hammered, watching college football at the Tiki Bar and Grill. We’re better off without him, believe me.”
    â€œWhat about your mother?”
    â€œShe’s away for a while . . . on a trip,” Griffin answered vaguely. “My older sisters moved out last year.They don’t even come visit anymore, not that I blame them. We’ve got the house to ourselves.”
    â€œI should check in with my mom,” Eric said.
    â€œHey, don’t let me stop you.”
    â€œShe’s not going to like that your folks aren’t here,” Eric warned.
    â€œSo lie,” Griffin suggested.
    â€œLie?”
    Griffin held his thumb and index finger a hair’s breadth apart. “A little white lie,” he said. “What are you? The good fairy?”
    Eric made a face and dialed. “Hi, Mom.”
    â€œHey, sweetie. Do you need me to pick you up?”
    â€œNo, we, um, that’s why I’m calling,” Eric explained. “We decided to hang out at Griffin’s house.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do over there?”
    â€œDo?” Eric looked at Griffin, who made a few waves of his hand. Eric cracked a smile. “Ping-Pong.”
    â€œWell, I don’t have a problem with it. Are his parents home?”
    â€œHis parents?” Eric looked to Griffin, who signaled a thumbs-up. “Yes,” Eric said. “Mr. Connelly’s here.”
    â€œGreat, may I speak with him?”
    â€œYou want to speak with him?” Eric echoed. He looked at Griffin, who tilted his head up, began scrubbing his armpits, pretended to wash his hair. “He’s, um, I think he’s in the—he’s showering!” Eric said.
    â€œShowering, huh?” Mrs. Hayes paused a beat, giving Eric’s heart time to climb into his throat.
    â€œI can ask him to call you later,” he offered.
    â€œNo, I have to run out,” Mrs. Hayes answered. “Rudy has been invited to a bowling party. Can you believe that kid? One month in town and he’s already Mr. Popularity. Besides, you have my cell, remember? If you get home before me, I want you to do something constructive.”
    â€œMom—”
    â€œI mean it. No TV, no electronics. Read a book, clean your room, practice your guitar. We’ll be home around five.”
    â€œYou know, Mom,” Eric said, seizing the opening, “this is why I need my own cell phone.”
    He heard her sigh. “Maybe you’re right, I don’t know. We’ll talk about it later. Love you.”
    Eric glanced at Griffin. “You, too.”
    And that was that. In one quick call, Eric had liedto his mother. He had to, he reasoned, or she would have never let him stay at Griffin’s house. It wasn’t like they were going to do anything bad.
    â€œYour mother’s old school, huh?” Griffin noted.
    â€œI guess so, if that means super-strict.”
    â€œDon’t sweat it,” Griffin advised. “You did good. She’ll never know the