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break. She’d whack you, too, and you know it. You don’t have the guts.”
    “You’re my son, and I’m doing what I think is best for you. That’s it,
and if you don’t understand what I’m trying to say, it’s your loss.”
    I turned away. “Fine.”
    He set the pillow and blankets down, then placed a piece of paper on the pile. “Good
night.”
    I didn’t look at him. “Yeah, and you sleep good, too. By the way, if I get eaten or
something, give my stuff to the Goodwill.”
    After he left, I looked at the piece of paper and realized it had been on the refrigerator. A list of chores.
“Great. Now I get to be Billy’s twin slave.” I read them: Mow, edge, water, weed the vegetable
garden, paint the fence behind the garage, rebuild the half fence on the Hinkses’ side, fix the mailbox, and clean
out the shed. The top of the list noted that I had a week to complete everything besides rebuilding the fence. I crumpled
up the list and threw it. They could rot for all I cared.

CHAPTER 5
    T he one thing about hot days in Montana is that the nights are chilly.
It’s like a teeter-totter of heat and cold, and I knew I’d freeze my butt off. My stomach crawled with
hunger, too. I looked around the shed and there wasn’t a clear place to sleep. Then I saw the crumpled chore
list. Fine. I’d clean the shed. That’s all, though. She could come out here and beat me with the biggest
wooden spoon in the world, but I wasn’t caving in. Not to some short old woman with a nasty attitude who
thought she knew everything.
    An hour later, I’d cleaned half the shed up, found a candle and lit it, and set up my bed on the dirt
floor. Whoopee. I’d probably get eaten by some wild animal or kidnapped by a bunch of lunatic hicks out for a
midnight ballyhoo. Then I remembered the girl I’d fallen in love with earlier. She’d keep me warm.
    I woke up the next morning in a puddle of sweat, and the mosquitoes had feasted on my flesh. Billy
Hinks was standing at the entrance of the shed, his big eyes locked on me. As usual, he wore a long-sleeved shirt and
too-short Levi’s. He tilted his head, squinting at me. I sat up. “I thought you weren’t supposed
to talk to me,” I said.
    “I ain’t.”
    “You ain’t what?”
    “Talkin’ to you.” He pointed to the back door. “Pa told me to ask Miss
Mae for her wheelbarrow. Ours got a busted handle.”
    I looked toward the back of the shed, saw the wheelbarrow behind a roll of chicken wire, and stood up.
“Here.” I threw the chicken wire aside and grabbed the wheelbarrow. “What are you
doing?”
    “Moving bricks.”
    “Building something?”
    He shook his head. “Moving them.”
    “Why?”
    He looked at me for a second, almost like he was deciding something. “Ain’t none of
your business.”
    “Secret brick-moving mission?”
    He shook his head, the tiniest smile playing on his lips before it disappeared. “I gotta git. Pa
don’t want me talking to you.”
    I looked at Billy’s house. No one in sight. “So what?”
    He laughed. “So I don’t want to get in trouble again, that’s so what.
Bye.”
    He left me scratching my head, wondering how he’d gotten in trouble. I’d been the one
talking to him, and besides, he hadn’t said more than two sentences to me. I stretched, raising my arms above
my head and looking at the driveway. Dad’s car was gone, and I remembered Edward and him talking the day
before about checking out a building in town to lease. Some sort of business they were thinking of starting. I figured it
would be a hit with all the gays in town.
    I walked to the back porch and checked the door, but it was locked. I had to take a dump, so I walked to
the front door. It was locked, too. Great. I sat down, dragged my last cigarette from the pack, and lit up. The other packs
were inside. My stomach growled, so I turned on the hose and drank.
    This was going to be a fantastic day. Miss Mae wasn’t going to let me in.