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she’d just throw it away. If Gudger found his EVEDINSE file, though, he’d kill him.
    Filling his lungs with air, he gave the house a final check, then he raced for the toolshed. As he reached the cool shade of the back wall, he hunkered down, listening for the scrape of the back door opening, Gudger’s harsh You, boy! But again, he heard only the bird-chirp sounds of a summer afternoon. Weak with relief, he unlaced his sneakers, pulled his T-shirt over his head. As he took off his jeans, he thought how good the swimming pool was going to feel. Even though it was one of those above-ground things that Gudger put up so he could ogle Sam in her bikini, they loved it, nonetheless. The water was as cool as the creek, but without the dangers of water moccasins and snapping turtles. He could dive under the water and hide from Gudger for a whole thirty seconds, or at least until he had to breathe again.
    He folded his clothes into a small pile and stood there in his underpants. He felt horribly exposed, but he had no choice. He could explain taking his clothes off to swim; swimming in his thick, heavy jeans would be a much harder sell. A mosquito with striped wings landed on his belly, just below his navel. If he didn’t get in the water soon, he’d be eaten alive.
    â€œCome on,” he told himself, slapping at the bug. “Don’t be a sissy.”
    He paused in the concealing shadows of the toolshed for another second, then he made his move. Digging his bare toes into the ground, he ran down the side of the toolshed as fast as he could—arms pumping, head down, his eyes on the ground. He turned the front corner of the toolshed, then raced for the bright blue plastic pool that had stood there since May. Only today, it wasn’t there. Today, only jagged pieces of plastic lay in a jumble, while a swarm of mosquitoes hovered over the soggy ground.
    He stopped, stunned, gaping at the wreckage of the pool. Suddenly, he heard a howl of laughter behind him. He turned. Hidden inside the toolshed, Gudger sat on his new motorcycle, his cell phone to his ear.
    â€œOh, man, you ain’t gonna believe this,” he told whomever he was talking to, his voice cracking with glee. “I figure Shithead’s run off, so I bulldoze this stupid pool so I can plant some tomatoes. Now here comes Shithead running up in his skivvies, all ready to dive in it! Hang on a minute. This is just too fucking good.”
    Red-faced with laughter, he aimed his smart phone at Chase. “Give me a big smile, Olive Oyl. I’m gonna put that big ol’ rig of yours on YouTube! All the fifth grade girls will go crazy!”
    Chase stood there paralyzed. There was no pool. There was no great trick he’d managed to pull on Gudger. There was only Gudger, sitting there laughing, taking a video of him nearly naked. Soon everybody—all of Gudger’s friends, all of the kids at school—would see him pigeon-chested and skinny-legged, wearing only a ragged pair of underpants. He turned and raced toward the house, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
    â€œAw, don’t run away, Olive Oyl,” called Gudger. “Come back and make a muscle for the camera!”
    As Gudger’s voice echoed over the yard, Chase opened the back door and ran to his room. He threw himself on the bed, tears of humiliation stinging his eyes. Of all the things Gudger could have done, why this? Why not just ground him? Or beat him? Or even kill him? Anything would be better than having those pictures on the Internet. He felt sick inside as he pictured himself on YouTube, stripped to his underwear, running away from a dead swimming pool. The kids at school would laugh at him for the rest of his life. And why had Gudger destroyed the pool in the first place? He and Sam loved it—even his mother liked to float in it at night, after supper. The pool had been the only good thing about this place and now it was gone.
    A rage