Finding the Sky - A.M. Burns

Finding the Sky By A.M. Burns For the entire school year, Dillon Smith has resisted the gang trying to coerce him into joining, and he can’t wait to escape them for the summer. Before he manages, he gets mixed up in a convenience store robbery. Due to Dillon’s late father’s involvement with the gang, no one believes Dillon was only in that store as a customer. Even his mother doubts him, so she sends him to his Uncle Bryan’s home in the country. On the way Dylan and Bryan discover an injured hawk on the road, and they take the bird to a group of wildlife rehabbers in the area. While helping to care for the hawk, Dillon begins to see the world in new and different ways. He even finds love with the rehabbers’ son, Scott, but the gang doesn’t plan to let Dillon get away from them without a fight.

This book goes out to Anne and Pierre Bradshaw, the folks who introduced me to wild bird rehabilitation and falconry, helping me to find the sky.

Author’s Note When dealing with any kind of wildlife, always remember that they are first and foremost wild. Use caution. If possible find a professional and don’t try and deal with wild things on your own. If you find yourself interested in learning more about either wildlife rehabilitation or falconry, there are local organizations across the world that can help you out.

1

THE FINAL bell rang, and Dillon Smith was out of school for

the summer. He paused long enough to empty his locker and then joined the tail end of the press of other high school kids heading out for three months of freedom. For Dillon that meant trying to find something to do while escaping the nearly constant pressure and ridicule from the gang that kept trying to recruit him. For extra cash he’d even be willing to take an outside job that meant dealing with the heat and humidity of a Dallas summer, but so far, he hadn’t been able to find anything. Sliding his earbuds in as he walked out of the school, Dillon instantly lost himself in the country music he’d been raised on. The songs had more meaning to him, even though he was a city kid. He liked music he could easily understand and that had a nonviolent feel to counter the environment he was lost in while in school. “Hey, Dillon.” Robbie, the captain of the swim team and the closest thing Dillon had to a best friend, jogged up alongside him as he turned the first corner from the school. “Hey, Robbie.” Dillon pulled out the right earbud to hear him better. “I guess I won’t be seeing much of you for a few months.” “I just got my driver’s license. If you want, I could come

by every now and then. Maybe we could go to the movies, or something.” “What about your lifeguard job?” Dillon was never sure how to take Robbie’s attention. “Won’t that be keeping you busy most of the time?” He liked spending time with Robbie, but he couldn’t understand why the swimmer liked spending time with him. Robbie was attractive, popular, and white. Dillon was mixed. Most of the kids in school didn’t want much to do with him, other than the gangbangers who just wanted bodies to fill their ranks. But Robbie didn’t seem to care. “Not all the time.” Robbie pulled a big plastic-looking leaf off a magnolia tree. “It would be nice to hang out with you once in a while.” A weighty pause filled the air between them. “Sometimes summers get lonely.” Dillon kicked a stone down the sidewalk. “Yeah they do. Sure. Call or text me sometime. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to afford to do, but it would be nice to get away from my mom from time to time.” Robbie perked up. “Cool.” They paused for a second at the corner near Robbie’s home. Robbie hesitated about something, then smiled at Dillon. “Well, I guess I need to get on to the house. I’ll call you soon.” Robbie hurried up the hill toward his house, halfway up on the right. “You do that.” Dillon waved good-bye, put his earbud back in, and continued on his way. Two blocks from Robbie’s house, the neighborhood changed abruptly. The nicer, upper-middle-class homes

gave way to run-down dwellings. A narrow strip center marked the border of the two areas. Wanting a soda, Dillon strolled toward the convenience store at the corner. He didn’t often have the spare cash for a drink on the way home, but his mother gave him an extra five dollars that morning and a soda would be a kind of celebration for surviving his sophomore year of high school. As he stepped from the cracked sidewalk onto the chipped tile, strong hands gripped his shoulders. Dillon jerked a look over his shoulder. Kareem Hassan, one of the gangbangers from school, had hold of him. His heart raced as panic flooded through him. “Hey, Dill, just the stooge we were looking for.” The reek of pot rolled out of Kareem’s mouth. “It’s your big day. You get to start the summer as one of the South Side Shanks. Don’t do nothing stupid, and you’ll get out of this unhurt.” Dillon glanced around. His heart pounded so hard it was hard to think. Two more Shanks he recognized from school were in the store, moving among the shelves and stalking toward the counter. As they went, they slowly pulled bandanas over their lower faces. Dillon struggled in Kareem’s hold. Kareem was taller and outweighed him by a good hundred pounds. The gangbanger shook him. “Dill, Dill, just stay still and play along. This small start will carry you so far.” As his world narrowed to Kareem’s hands and the movements of the other Shanks, Dillon went numb. This

can’t be happening. One of the gang members had a gun out and waved it at the clerk. The clerk was shouting something in a thick accent that Dillon couldn’t understand. Then the clerk started to open the cash register. He jerked something up. The pistol in his hand fired, first at the Shank closest to him, then at the others. As people he’d gone to school with fell to the floor, blood splashed his face and Dillon fainted. A HARSH ammonia smell assaulted Dillon. “Come on, kid,

wake up,” a male voice urged. Dillon pushed away from the smell but couldn’t get far. A hard metal shelf blocked his way. He looked up into the face of an older man wearing a white uniform. “Good, you’re awake. Let’s get you out to the patrol car, give the officers more room to move around in here.” For a second, Dillon just stared at him. “What happened?” The man touched his shoulder. Dillon remembered Kareem’s hands on him and shuddered. “People were shot.” The man moved his hands away from Dillon. “I think you were missed. Can you stand?” He stood and offered Dillon a hand up. Dillon took it. His head swam as he got to his feet. He grabbed the nearest shelf to keep his balance and crunched a bag of chips in his hand.

The man in the white uniform seemed to study him with a clinical gaze. “You might’ve hurt your head when you hit the floor. Let’s get you out to the ambulance first, but we need to clear the way.” With a quick glance, Dillon thought a couple of the Shanks on the floor looked funny where they lay in what looked like spilled red molasses. He turned his attention outside, where two ambulances and five police cars waited as a crime-scene van pulled up. With a deep breath and still feeling light-headed, Dillon forced himself to walk out the door. The store clerk shouted something at him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t care. He wanted to find his mother and go home, but his mother was at work and probably wouldn’t know about anything that was happening for several hours. I doubt they’re going to let me go until Mom gets to the hospital, Dillon thought as the steamy outside air hit him. One of the police officers walked toward him. “Is he ready for us now?” “No, I need to check him out,” the paramedic replied. “He might have a concussion. Seems a little disoriented.” The police officer huffed. “Disoriented? Well, part of his gang dying around him might do that to him.” Dillon shivered. Thanks to Kareem, they think I was

part of this. It’s not my fault they decided to rob the place as I walked in. The paramedic pushed him slightly, indicating he should sit in the open rear of the nearest ambulance.

“Okay, kid, look straight ahead for me.” He shone a penlight in Dillon’s eyes, first the right, then the left. Dillon did as he was told. His head throbbed, but his thoughts slowly became more coherent. Around them radios squawked and people talked. Yellow police tape was strung between signs along the sidewalk. A growing crowd pushed against the tape and several police officers moved about trying to keep people back. It was Dillon’s first time inside police tape. “Your eyes look acceptable.” The paramedic put his penlight away. “I want to do a couple more things.” “I wasn’t part of the gang,” Dillon said. He wasn’t sure if he’d be believed or not, but he wanted to tell someone. “Good for you. Gangs are bad news.” The paramedic felt the back of Dillon’s head. “But it’s not for me to decide. That’s up to the police officers. My job is to patch you up so they can take you to the station until a parent or guardian can be found.” “Can I call my mom?” Dillon went to pull his phone out of his pants. The paramedic caught his hand in a firm grip. “That’s not a good idea.” He dropped his voice. “There’s dead gangbangers who look like members of a gang you might belong to. It’s not a good idea to put your hands in your pockets right now. Everyone’s going to be jumpy for a bit. It’ll help to just be mellow.” Fear washed over Dillon. It was almost as bad as when the Shanks pulled the gun on the clerk. Sweat ran down his face, burning his eyes. He nodded and the paramedic

relaxed. “You’ve not been in trouble before, have you?” Dillon shook his head. “That’s good. It’ll go easier on you, then.” The paramedic went back to checking him, feeling across his neck and back. “Just don’t make any sudden movements around the officers.” He patted Dillon lightly on the head. “Police officers can be a bit jumpy, particularly when there’s already been shots fired. Luckily, you weren’t hit, this time. Go along with everything they ask you to do. They’ll call your mother soon enough, kid. Keep cool, and everything will work out fine. You sure there’s no pain?” The paramedic’s gentle voice and kindly demeanor helped Dillon relax. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” “No problem. Unless I miss my guess, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Good luck.” He straightened and raised his voice. “Hey, Harris, he should be fine. Just take it easy on him. He’s kind of wobbly on his feet still.” The officer who’d been eager to take him before came over. “Okay, kid, we’re going to take you to the station. It’s getting a bit too busy around here.” Harris put handcuffs on Dillon, more gently than he expected, then took him by the elbow. Dillon walked along without any hesitation as Harris put him in the back of the squad car. “Look, kid. Don’t act up back there.” “No, sir.” Dillon sank into the seat. Something in the car didn’t smell right. He couldn’t place it, but in his gut he didn’t

want to know what it was. Harris got into the car and took Dillon to the station. The whole incident became a blur as everyone ignored his objections. They just listened to Kareem and the store clerk. Dillon was processed as a gang member. It included fingerprinting, getting his picture taken, and peeing in a cup. He didn’t look anyone in the face. He remembered something about never looking authority figures in the face, so he kept his eyes on his overly tight and heavily worn tennis shoes until his mother arrived at the police station.

2

THE DRIVE home from the police station was one of the

worst fifteen minutes he ever spent with his mother. Before they were out of the parking lot, he was ready to go back into the police station and ask to be locked up with Kareem, who he saw at a distance with a bandage on one arm, being led away. “I can’t believe you went off and joined a gang!” she shouted as soon as the doors to her beat-up Honda Prelude closed. “Mom, I didn’t join a gang.” He couldn’t understand why all of the adults wanted to see the worst in him. “Remember the five dollars you gave me this morning to get something on the way home from school?” “The five dollars? Give me that back.” She slammed on the brakes before pulling from the parking lot into traffic and thrust her hand across the car at him. When he didn’t immediately give her the cash, she wiggled her fingers at him impatiently. He dropped the five in her grasp. As soon as she had it, she shot off, barely missing the Suburban that was barreling for them. Although his mother’s driving scared him, he tried to never show it. Dillon continued to explain in the small hope that something would get through to her. “I

stopped at the store to get a drink. I was trying to celebrate the start of summer like you said. Kareem and the other Shanks were already there. I wasn’t with them. Kareem still had hold of me when the shooting started. It was like he wanted folks to think I was one of them.” “What do you mean had hold of you? Was he holding your hand or something? What kind of gang are these Shanks?” She barely paused as she turned a corner. The worn tires screeched. He sank low enough in his seat that the shoulder strap caught him across the throat. “Mom, I don’t know anything about the Shanks, other than some of the guys at school are part of them and they are always trying to recruit me. I’ve ignored them. It was harder to ignore them today with Kareem holding me there while the others robbed the store. I know it doesn’t look good, but that’s what happened.” “The clerk said that you were part of the gang. Who am I supposed to believe, you or the clerk?” She didn’t slow down until they were nearly in their parking spot at the apartment building. When she slammed on the brakes, Dillon jerked forward and the seat belt bit into him. “Mom,” he said, his voice cracking slightly from the seat belt. “Don’t you go getting all teary-eyed on me. If you’re old enough to join a gang, you’re old enough to be a man about it.” She turned off the car and spun in her seat to glare at him. “Look, Dillon, I’ve worked really hard all my adult life to make sure that you had a roof over your head and clothes on your back. A gang took your father from me. I won’t have

you getting messed up in one. Do you understand me?” “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded as he released the seat belt. “Good. Now get in the apartment and stay there. I forgot to stop and get us something for dinner. I’ll be right back, and you better be here when I come back.” “I will be.” As he fished his backpack out of the backseat, Dillon didn’t add that he didn’t have anywhere else to go. There weren’t any real friends he could run away to, and any other family he had would just bring him back to her. None of them liked being around him and his mother; he reminded them of the black kid she’d gotten knocked up by while she was still in high school seventeen years earlier. The stairs wobbled a bit, like they always did, as he went to their third-floor apartment. The Hispanic couple two doors down was having a fight again, and it smelled like the old lady below them had managed to burn her dinner for the third time that week. Dillon flipped on the light switch and the lamp by the couch blazed for a second, then went out with a loud pop. He dropped his backpack in the recliner and went into the kitchen. The light there stayed on. After pulling a plastic cup from the cabinet, he filled it with tap water and finally quenched his parched throat. Then he found a lightbulb in the tiny pantry and fixed the living room light. No point in pissing Mom off more than she already is. He carried the dead bulb to the half-filled trash can. I know she’s tired. I

know the gang thing worries her. She’s never let me forget

that my father was killed when he and some members of his gang pulled a carjacking. But she’s never not believed me before. He moved his backpack, plopped down in the recliner, and turned on the television. On the screen, a news reporter stood outside the convenience store interviewing the clerk. Even on TV the clerk’s accent was so thick they opted for subtitles so everyone could understand him. “And Mom wants to believe him over me,” Dillon muttered as he changed the channel. Nothing looked interesting. Even things that he normally enjoyed—country music videos and some of his favorite movies—didn’t look interesting. He settled on a romantic comedy he knew his mother would enjoy with the hope that it might help improve her mood when she got home. His phone beeped with the tone for a text. It was from Robbie. R u ok? Dillon stared at the phone for a moment. Does Robbie

know about the robbery? Does he think I’m a Shank too? No, he wouldn’t believe that. He knows me. But I thought Mom did too. He replied, Fine, then laid the phone down on the cluttered coffee table, careful to keep it out of the pile of his mother’s cigarette ash that spilled over the ashtray. His mother barged into the apartment. “The line was too long at the chicken place, so I got burgers instead.” “That’s fine,” Dillon replied as he listlessly got out of the chair and went into the kitchen to get plates. The burgers had pickles and onions on them, just like he didn’t like. He

didn’t complain. He pulled them off, then dumped them in the garbage when he was done. “You go on to bed now.” His mother popped open a beer and took a long swig. “I’ve got some thinking to do, and I can’t do it with you sitting here watching me.” “Mom, it’s not even eight yet,” Dillon objected. “Dillon Edward Smith, are you sassing me?” A dangerous tone entered her voice. Dillon dropped his shoulders and lowered his gaze to the dirty carpet. “No, ma’am.” He turned and trudged down the short hall and went into the bathroom. For a moment after he closed the door, he looked around wondering why he’d bothered to go into the bathroom. He sat down on the closed toilet and took the book off the cabinet beside it. He read for a little while until his mother pounded on the door. “You better not be in there reading. I told you to go to bed.” “I’ll be out and in bed in a minute,” he replied and finished the chapter he’d been on before he flushed the empty toilet. He turned out the light, opened the door, and then stopped. His mother sounded like she was on the phone, but it also sounded like she was crying. “Bryan, I don’t know what I’m going to do. What if he has joined a gang? I don’t want to think he’s lying to me, but so many kids nowadays that’s all they do, lie, even to their parents.” There was a short pause. Dillon carefully sat on the floor and listened with the

bathroom door open just enough that he could hear. “I don’t want him to end up like Dion. Losing Dion nearly killed me. If it hadn’t been for Dillon, I would’ve lay down on his grave and died right there at the funeral.” After another pause, she continued. “I know. I know. But Bryan, I just don’t know what to do. I want to keep him safe, but we can’t afford to move right now. Our lease isn’t up until the first of the year, and even if I can afford something by then, where would we go? My job is here in Dallas. I don’t think I could move far enough away to keep him out of the gang.” She blew her nose, and afterward her voice sounded stronger. “Would you really do that? He can be a real handful, and you’ve never had kids before.” Dillon straightened and almost knocked a can of cleaner off the shelf near his head. He quickly grabbed it before it made any noise. Is she sending me to Uncle

Bryan? What would I do out in Kerens? Does he even have Internet or a cell signal? “Bryan, that would be wonderful. I think it would be an awesome idea. He’d be close enough for me to come out on my days off and visit…. No, I won’t talk to him about it. I’m his mother. He’ll do what I tell him to do, or I’ll let the police take him away to wherever they put gangbangers nowadays…. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tomorrow? Dillon rested his head against the shelf, not caring that the rough wood pressed into his forehead. He’s

coming tomorrow? She really wants to get rid of me. I never thought that my own mother would want to get rid of

me that badly. He sat there until she got out of the recliner and walked into the kitchen; then he scurried across the hall to his bedroom, careful to close the door quietly so as not to alert her to the fact he was still awake and had overheard her conversation. He didn’t bother turning on the light. He could see his bed well enough in the dimming light outside his window. He took off his clothes, put on his shorts, and fell upon his bed. Light glinted off the sharp bowie knife lying on top of its sheath on his desk. He got up and picked it up. It was the only thing he’d ever stolen. He’d nabbed it from a stand at the flea market after he’d seen it the first time. There had been something about it that had called to him. Stealing it was easier than he ever dreamed, but soon afterward he felt guilty about it, though he could never bring himself to take it back. Was that the start of me being a Shank? Is

that all I’m destined to do? What other option do I really have? Working a minimum-wage job like Mom? Will there even be options for me when I graduate? I don’t want to be in the Shanks, but I don’t want to be like Mom either. I want to find some way to be happy.

3

DILLON GOT tired of staring at the blown-popcorn ceiling

above his bed as the first fingers of dawn worked their way through his bent blinds. He’d dozed off and on through the night, but hadn’t truly slept. I can’t believe that Mom’s going

to send me away to Uncle Bryan. It doesn’t seem fair. I’m not part of the Shanks, and I never will be. She’s just too drunk to really care. The knife was still on the bed next to him. He rose, put the knife back on the desk, and walked quietly to his door. He slipped out and headed for the bathroom. The glow from the TV was slightly brighter than the emerging sunlight from outside. For a second Dillon thought about going into the living room to see if his mother was still awake, but instead walked on to the bathroom and shut the door quietly. By the time he finished with his shower and pulled on clean clothes, the light from outside overran the TV’s. Before he reached the living room, he caught the drone of an early morning newscaster. His mother blinked at him as he walked into the living room. I wish I could make it into the kitchen without going past her. He paused as she straightened. A couple of beer

cans fell from her recliner to the floor at her movement. “Dillon”—her speech wasn’t smooth, a clear indication of the amount of beer she’d consumed and her lack of sleep—“come… sit… talk to me.” He sat on the couch without saying a word. “Son… you scared me… to death… yesterday.” She ran a shaking hand through her limp blonde hair. “I can’t tell you how… important it is for me that… you aren’t in a gang.” “Mom—” She raised a hand to silence him. “I heard you yesterday… when you said you weren’t… in the gang. I never thought… that I’d not believe you… right now, I don’t. You’re sixteen. I remember being sixteen. It was so easy… to… to lie… to my parents then, particularly if it meant I could spend more time with my friends and eventually your father.” She frowned like she normally did when she mentioned his father. “Look, it hurts me to say… I don’t trust you… right now.” Dillon slumped on the couch and stared at the TV; he didn’t want to look at her. I never thought you wouldn’t

believe me. I’ve always been honest with you. “Anyway… I talked to your uncle Bryan… last night. He’s agreed to take you for the summer. He’ll be here… in a little while to pick you up. I don’t like sending you off. I hope the time away from… the hood will help… you see things differently. Gangs are really bad. Right now… always… I’d do anything to keep you from being part of one.” Sniffling, she leaned forward and pulled a tissue from

the battered box on the coffee table. A quick shake removed the cigarette ashes before she lifted it to her face and blew her nose. He turned his attention from the TV to her. Black tears of mascara streaked down her cheek. Dillon swallowed hard. He’d rarely seen his mother cry. The last time was when his grandfather died several years before. She’d cried the night she got the news; then, after drinking herself into a stupor, she hadn’t shed another tear before, during, or after the funeral.

She’s really upset about this. It’s not just the beer making her overreact. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. The reek of beer and cigarettes was almost more than he could handle. “It’s okay, Mom. Maybe going to Uncle Bryan’s will help me figure things out.” He knew that it wouldn’t change his mind about avoiding being in a gang, but it would be good to get away from the apartment for the summer and maybe it would count as getting a job. “I hope so. I just want you to be safe.” She blew her nose again and wiped the tissue across her cheek, smearing the mascara even more. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’ve got a great future… if you just make the right choices. Gangs are the wrong choice.” The reporter on TV went to a story about the robbery the previous day, explaining how the two boys had been shot in an attempted holdup. Dillon tried to block it out, but the volume seemed to grow louder and drowned out his

mother’s quiet tears. A soft knock came from the door. His mother pushed him away. Dillon stumbled to avoid crashing into the coffee table. “I can’t answer the door like this. Go see who it is.” She dashed for the bathroom. With a heavy sigh of exasperation, Dillon walked to the door. He glanced out the peephole. The broad shoulders and blond buzz cut of his uncle filled his view. Dillon undid the chain and locks. “It’s Uncle Bryan!” he shouted as he opened the door. “Hey, Dillon.” His uncle smiled at him. “It’s been a while. Haven’t you stopped growing yet?” Dillon stepped to the side so Uncle Bryan could enter. “Not yet. Most folks don’t stop until what, twenty? So I probably got another three and a half years to go.” “Might be longer than that.” Uncle Bryan gave him a warm smile. “So where’s your mom? She didn’t sound too good last night.” “Bathroom.” Dillon jerked his head that direction. “She’s not doing real good this morning either.” “Did she tell you what we talked about?” “Yeah,” Dillon said, dropping his voice. “Don’t tell her, but I overheard last night.” He didn’t like keeping secrets but figured if his mother knew he’d heard last night, it might upset her even more than she was already. He’d always had a comfortable relationship with his uncle, the only member of the family who spent much time with him and his mother. There had been many times Uncle Bryan was more

like a father than an uncle. “So are you packed already?” Uncle Bryan moved a couple of empty beer cans from the recliner and set them on the floor next to the coffee table. “Not yet.” Uncle Bryan glanced at the number of beer cans on the floor, then at Dillon. “Are all these from last night?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Dillon glanced toward the hall and the still-closed bathroom door before nodding. Uncle Bryan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about it as he settled in the worn chair. Then he sighed. “Okay, why don’t you go pack a couple of bags with some clothes? Grab your laptop too and anything you think will help you stay entertained in the evenings. If you forget anything, don’t worry about it. We can drive into Corsicana fairly easily, and Dallas if we can’t find it there.” He shooed Dillon out of the room. “I’ll take the three of us out for breakfast before we hit the road.” As Dillon passed the closed bathroom door, it sounded like his mother was getting sick in the toilet. He paused. “Mom, are you okay?” It was a moment before she replied, “Sure, sweetie.” She sounded weak. “Don’t worry about me. If your uncle is comfortable, why don’t you start… packing? I’ll be out in a minute.” He turned and went into his room. Knowing that Uncle Bryan lived out in the country, Dillon didn’t pack much in the way of “good clothes,” deciding to go more with things he

didn’t mind getting dirty, which was most of his wardrobe. It took longer for him to select a few books and games to take with him. Since he didn’t recall Uncle Bryan having a gaming system, he took his along with his laptop. He made sure the knife was buried in his clothes. Before he walked out of the room, he took a moment to straighten his bed. By the time he returned to the living room, his mother had repaired her makeup, and other than a slight puffiness around her eyes, didn’t look like anything in the world was wrong. “Come on, Dillon, Bryan’s taking us out for breakfast before you two leave.” She stood as soon as he walked in. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry.” Uncle Bryan rose from the recliner. “Me too. What do you guys say about that little diner on the corner? Last time I ate there they had some great pancakes. If it’s one thing I can’t cook, it’s good pancakes.” He gestured for them all to head out the door. Dillon set his three bags down in front of the TV stand and followed them out.

4

THE CITY slowly drizzled out of view as Dillon rode quietly in

Uncle Bryan’s shiny new blue pickup. At least it’s decent country music, he mused as the last dregs of south Dallas gave way to forest dotted occasionally by river or swamp. “Okay, Dillon, do you want to tell me what happened yesterday?” Uncle Bryan asked. “I got your mom’s opinion last night. So, I figure that your side is a bit different.” “You could say that. She’s convinced that I’m a member of the South Side Shanks.” “And I take it you’re not.” Dillon kept his voice level. It was easier with his uncle than his mother. “Do I look like I’m a gang member?” “Hard to say nowadays. They’re kinda like homicidal maniacs; they look like everyone else.” “There is that,” Dillon agreed. “I know sometimes at school, it’s hard to tell the goths and emos from the gangbangers without a metal detector.” “Look, you’ve never done anything to break my trust, so I’m going to take you at your word until you prove to me that you’re not trustworthy. So what exactly happened yesterday?” After swallowing hard, Dillon related the events of the

previous day. “But Mom wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. By the time she got to the police station, she’d already tried and convicted me.” “She can be like that.” His uncle rubbed his smooth chin with thick fingers. “Tell me what you think of being sent down here for the summer?” Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish she’d asked me first before just deciding I needed to come down here.” “Yeah, Milly… your mother… has always been quick to jump to conclusions and take off with all the wrong ideas stuck in her head.” “I feel like she’s throwing me away because she doesn’t want to deal with me.” Dillon swallowed hard. For a moment his throat tightened, and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “It’s better than shipping you off to one of those church camp places for reprogramming. I don’t care what they’re trying to do there, fix being a gang member, eating too much, or being gay, it never works. There are very few things that you can pray away, and most of them are mental issues anyway.” There was unexpected harshness in his uncle’s voice.

Does he have experience with something like that? “You’ve never been religious around me. I can’t see you making me do a lot of praying.” “And you won’t. I’ve got no patience for that sort of nonsense. This summer’s going to be hard work, but that’s about it. I promised your mom to keep you busy, and there’s plenty to get done around my place. If we run out of

things to do there, the neighbors can always use a helping hand.” He glanced across the truck at Dillon. “You know, one of the neighbors has a boy your age. Nice kid. We’ll have to introduce you. He might help the summer go by a little easier for you. Make being out in the country not so lonely.” “Lonely’s okay, Uncle Bryan. I’m used to being by myself. I don’t have a lot of friends at school. With all the gangbangers, I try and stick to myself.” Not to mention that

I’m too white for the black kids to like and too black for the white kids, or at least that’s what Mom’s always saying. I wonder if this kid he’s talking about has issues too. “Well, we’ll do what we can to make sure that’s not a problem. Plus, I’m sure your mother will be checking in from time to time, and it’ll make her happy to hear that you’re making friends who aren’t in gangs.” “Yeah, that’ll make her happy.” Dillon watched the trees go by. “Uncle Bryan, do you have any idea what I can do to get her off this trip she’s on about me being in a gang?” “It’ll take time. Once she sobers up and has some time to think on things, she’ll remember you’re a good kid and that you’re her kid. Maybe she’ll even remember your father didn’t have a hand in raising you.” Eager to change the subject, Dillon latched on to the last bit. “Did you know my dad?” Uncle Bryan pursed his lips and let out a long slow breath. “Yeah, I did. Dion was a good kid when we were all in junior high. I think it was in his and your mom’s second

year of high school that he fell in with the gang. I was one year behind them. Even though he loved Milly, he started to distance himself from me. I don’t really know how he got pulled into the Shanks.” Dillon straightened in his seat. “The Shanks? That was the gang he was in? Mom never said anything about that.” “She doesn’t like to talk about it. Dion’s brother was running with them too. We all lost track of him after Dion died.” “That was in a carjacking, wasn’t it?” “Yeah. They weren’t as commonplace as they are today. But he and two of the other Shanks picked the wrong car to hit. The driver pulled a gun, blew Dion and the other two away, then called the cops. It was ruled self-defense. “We didn’t blame the driver. Dion and the others were the ones breaking the law. Your mother never really recovered, especially after the family found out and all but disowned her.” He glanced over at Dillon as he took his exit from I-45. “If she hadn’t been pregnant with you, I don’t like to think about what she might’ve done to herself. No matter what might be going on right now, always remember that your mother loves you and you’re her reason for living.” “Sometimes she has a weird way of showing that.” The outskirts of Corsicana fell away; as they drove east, the forest quickly reasserted itself. “I know.” On the other side of the highway, a semitruck screeched its tires and swerved. Something dark tumbled through the air in front of Uncle Bryan’s truck as he

slammed on the brakes. The seat belt bit into Dillon’s shoulder as he lurched forward. “What was that?” After swinging the truck off to the side of the road, Uncle Bryan unfastened his seat belt and jumped out of the truck. “A bird, I think.” Dillon followed him along the shoulder of the road. The semi had corrected its swerve and was still blasting down the highway. “Asshole,” Uncle Bryan mumbled as he slowed his pace. “Doesn’t even stop to see if what he hit needs help.” “Do you always stop to help injured animals on the side of the road?” Dillon asked. “If I know it’s dead, I just keep driving.” Uncle Bryan moved toward the trees that bordered the bar ditch. “But if I think I can save it, I do. We humans make a huge negative impact on the world around us, and sometimes it’s important to try and improve things. One bird might not make a huge improvement in things, but if more people cared enough to help, you might be surprised at how things would get better.” He picked up his pace again. “There it is.” A large bird sprawled in the grass. Dillon hurried after Uncle Bryan. Is that an eagle? It doesn’t have a white

head, but it’s huge. “Red-tailed hawk.” Uncle Bryan stopped a foot or so away from the bird. It beat its wings feebly. He frowned at it. “It’s still alive. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Depends on how injured it is.”

A pang of pity shot through Dillon. For a moment he flashed back to the convenience store the day before where the two Shanks died in pools of their own blood. He didn’t see any blood on the bird, but inside him, he didn’t like the idea of the bird dying on the side of the road. It

deserves to be flying in the sky, not down here on the ground. Uncle Bryan pulled off his blue T-shirt. For a moment, his bare chest drew Dillon’s attention. He’d never seen his uncle shirtless before. He knew Uncle Bryan was in decent shape, but he looked more cut than some of the football players and swimmers at school. The guys at school also didn’t have blond hair on their bodies. “What are we going to do?” Dillon turned his attention back to the hawk. “Take it to some friends of mine who do wild bird rehabilitation. If it’s going to live, they’ll have a better chance at getting it back in the air than anyone.” He dropped the shirt over the bird, then knelt down and gathered it up. “Do you have a box or something to put it in?” Dillon watched closely as Uncle Bryan stood with the bird in his large hands. “Nope.” Uncle Bryan walked toward the truck. “Would you feel comfortable holding it while I drive there, or would you rather drive? I think Milly said you have your license already.” Dillon glanced from the cloth-wrapped bird in his

uncle’s grasp to the truck. I’ve never driven anything that big. “Won’t the bird hurt me? It’s a wild animal.” “I can show you how to hold her safely, if you don’t feel comfortable driving the truck.” He grinned at Dillon. “I know it’s a bit bigger than your mom’s car.” “Yeah. I think the truck scares me more than the bird does.” Not to mention I’ll have other opportunities to drive

a truck; I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to hold a hawk again. She looked so sad flopping there on the ground. I hope she’ll be okay.

5

DILLON HADN’T been out to his uncle’s place in several

years. His mother didn’t like the hour-long drive from Dallas to south of Kerens. The trees were thicker here; some of them made Dillon wonder if parts of the area had ever been cleared for farming, or if it had always been so wild. The hawk in his hands stayed quiet most of the trip, but through the T-shirt, its heart pounded against his fingers. Dillon spent as much time staring at the brown feathers peeking out of the blue fabric as he did watching the green landscape they drove past. When Uncle Bryan hit a pothole, it jarred all three of them and the T-shirt slipped from the hawk’s head. For a moment Dillon stared into the defiant eyes of the hawk. It opened its beak at him and tensed in his hold. He carefully kept the talons away from his hands or legs. “Careful there.” Uncle Bryan reached over and slipped the covering back over the hawk. “We don’t want her trying to bite you. But I’ve heard the bite isn’t too bad. It’s the feet you have to worry about. Remember not to touch the feet; it’ll try and grab you.” “One of my frie—a girl I know at school was saying that she had a parrot and they bite really hard.” Dillon instantly missed the view into the hawk’s eyes. For a second it felt

like it was touching his soul and asking to be returned to the sky. “Yeah, I’ve heard the same thing, but a hawk isn’t a parrot. Totally different critter. The guys we’re taking her to have a lot of experience with them, and they told me the time I brought them a screech owl that I needed to watch out for the feet. The talons are really sharp.” Dillon hadn’t gotten a good look at the hawk’s talons before it’d been bundled up, but he remembered the talons of the eagles at the zoo, and they had looked really sharp and dangerous. They turned off the pavement and onto a dirt road. Even though they slowed down, the ride still jarred them. “We’re almost there,” Uncle Bryan said. “They’re just down the road from my place.” “I thought this was the way to your house.” Dillon spotted the long, low building just beyond some trees as they turned down the next road and didn’t pull into the driveway that he thought they should. Then, right before the road bent to the right, they pulled into a driveway on the left. A sign on the edge of the trees proclaimed “Return To The Sky” in big dark blue letters. Below that in smaller letters was “wild bird rehabilitation center.” The pole gate stood open. The trees closed in on them again for a moment, then opened into a large clearing. There were several buildings of various sizes and more tall pens that looked like dog runs but had branches hung at different heights. In a few of the pens, hawks and other birds sat watching them as they

drove in. Before they came to a stop, two men and a tall boy with curly blond hair came out of what looked like the main house. The men looked about the same age; both were rugged-looking. One had a brown beard, sprinkled with gray, but his head was bald. The other one still had a head full of red hair and a smooth face. The redhead was taller, but the bald one looked like a bull in the shoulders. The boy appeared to be in his late teens and didn’t really look like either of the two men. He was tall, like the redhead, but broad like the bald man. He had on a T-shirt with some saying on it that Dillon couldn’t make out from the truck. “Bryan, thanks for giving us the heads-up call,” the bald man said as Uncle Bryan got out of the truck. “No problem.” He hurried around to Dillon’s door, but the boy beat him to it. “So, you’re Bryan’s nephew, Dillon?” Opening the door, the boy smiled, and briefly Dillon couldn’t answer. He gulped. “Yeah, that’s me.” What do I do with the bird? He glanced around. “Here, let me take the bird.” The redhead reached around the boy toward Dillon. Without getting out of the vehicle, Dillon held the bird out to him and for a moment didn’t want to let go. The man’s long fingers brushed his as he took control of the hawk. “Thanks.” Dillon flexed his hands, not realizing they had fallen asleep until the bird was handed off.

“No. Thank you for carrying her all the way here.” The redhead turned from them and headed for the building nearest the house. “Let’s get her inside where I can take a look at her and see how badly she was hit.” Dillon slid out of the truck and nearly bumped into the boy. “Uncle Bryan didn’t tell me your name.” “I’m Scott.” He offered his large hand. “Bryan’s mentioned you a time or two. That’s how I knew your name.” Close-up, Scott’s black T-shirt read “Werewolves rule, Zombie’s drool!” in dark red letters. After a quick shake, they fell into the wake of the adults and headed inside. Dillon felt an odd attraction to Scott. There was something kind and enticing about the boy. He looked like he played sports. He had the size to do either football or basketball, neither of which Dillon was any good at. But so far he hadn’t displayed any of the cockiness that Dillon normally associated with guys on either team. The initial smile and handshake felt warm and welcoming. The room the redhead walked into looked more like a doctor’s office than Dillon expected. Most of the surfaces were stainless steel and the floor was tile. There was even a faint, clean alcohol odor. An examining table with a large light over it stood in the middle of the room. The man carried the hawk to it. He gently pulled Uncle Bryan’s shirt off the bird and tossed it to him. “Here, Bryan, you might want to put that back on.” There was something light and almost teasing about the way he said it. Uncle Bryan pulled on the shirt. “Never thought I’d….” He looked at Dillon, let his voice trail off, and flushed

slightly. Dillon glanced between them, frowning slightly as he wondered what he was missing. “So, Alex, what do you think?” the bald man asked, drawing everyone’s attention back to the bird on the examining table. The redhead, Alex, flipped on the light above the table and the bird flapped her wings, sending a dull ringing through the room. “She’s fairly lively, that’s good. Paul, come get hold of her so I can check a few more things. It helps to have two hands free with these big birds.” Paul took hold of the hawk while Alex felt under her feathers and then shone a light in her eyes. She glared with a simple majesty at them. Even when she tried to get away from him, Paul seemed to anticipate her movements. The hawk kept her mouth open, hissing occasionally and snapping at them in regal defiance of what they were doing to her. “There’s a split in the upper mandible.” Alex gestured to a crack in her beak that Dillon hadn’t noticed before. “That’s going to take some time to heal.” He closed the hawk’s mouth and turned her head as if he was studying her beak; then he let go and she hissed at him again. “That’s a good girl. At least everything still lines up right.” He gently pulled out her right wing when Paul moved his arm to let it loose. Alex frowned. “A bit of tissue damage here. I don’t think she broke anything, but it’s going to be sore for a while.” He folded the wing back up and then checked the left one. “This side’s okay.” He let Paul get her well secured again,

then felt her chest and stomach. Starting on the right side, he pulled her feet free of Paul’s grasp and felt along them and the legs. She snapped at him and jerked her left leg back. “Here, let me hold that out for you.” Paul repositioned his hands and captured the leg again, this time holding it out for Alex to examine. “Thanks.” Alex frowned again. “I think there may be a small fracture in the rear tarsus.” He looked at the hawk’s head as he turned the foot loose. “I think you’re going to be with us a couple months. What did you do, try and get a mouse that was inside that semi?” “Why do you think that?” Dillon asked. “I actually don’t.” Alex glanced at him. “But with beak and foot damage, that tells me the main point of impact was head-on, like she flew into the truck’s windshield. She was probably going for something in the median and didn’t see the truck in time to change course. Raptors don’t see much once they’ve locked on to prey; that’s why so many of them get hit by cars and trucks on the highway.” He looked from Dillon back to Paul. “Let’s get a quick weight on her, then put her in the midsized hospital cage. With that foot and possibly sprained wing, I don’t want her moving around much the next couple of days. I’ll get fluids in her later.” With a slight nod, Paul moved to another table where there was a small scale. Scott already had some kind of cloth wrap laid out next to it. Within minutes, they’d wrapped up the hawk, weighed her, made some notes on a piece of paper, then unwrapped the bird and put her in a small steel

cage that had a low perch in it. The hawk waddled awkwardly to the far side of the cage and glared at them once her back was in the corner. “Come on,” Alex said. “Let’s give her some time to relax.” It was all Dillon could do to tear his gaze away from the bird and follow the others as they walked out of the building.

If we hadn’t been there, she might’ve died, either on the side of the road, or starving by not being able to eat. Uncle Bryan did a great thing by stopping for her. She’s so cool. “So what are you guys doing the rest of the day?” Paul asked as he walked over to three weathered Adirondack chairs sitting under a massive oak tree between the building and the house. “We’re going to go get Dillon settled in.” Uncle Bryan paused just short of the chairs. “Since he’s going to be here for the summer, might as well make him comfortable.” “Makes sense.” Paul settled into a chair. “So what are your dinner plans? We’re heading into Gun Barrel for some pizza.” Uncle Bryan cocked an eyebrow. “Gun Barrel? For pizza?” Alex sat in the chair next to Paul. “Yeah. I know you’ve gone with us before out there.” He frowned thoughtfully for a second as he paused, then shook his head. “The name of the place eludes me. It’s been there for years. Right near the lake. It’s a little greasy spoon that beats the hell out of

the chain places in Corsicana or Athens.” “What do you think?” Uncle Bryan looked at Dillon. “I didn’t actually plan anything for dinner, figured we’d see what we could scrounge up. It’ll give you the chance to get to know folks better.” Dillon shrugged. “I’m open. You’re in charge this summer.” A loud guffaw escaped Paul. “Bryan, how are you going to handle being in charge?” Uncle Bryan looked down at the bald man with a dark expression that Dillon had never seen on his face. “Just fine, thank you.” He glanced at Dillon. “Let’s go get you settled.” “We’ll pick you guys up about five,” Alex called after them. As they got back in the truck, a pang of regret hit Dillon as he relaxed and realized he wanted to ask a lot more questions about the hawk. He snapped his seat belt closed and looked at Uncle Bryan. “Do you know what’s going to happen to the hawk?” Uncle Bryan started the truck and turned it around. “They’ll do everything they can to return her to the wild. I don’t know all the specifics of how they do that, but I know they get a lot of birds back in the sky every year. It’s what they do, and they’re good at it.” Dillon relaxed a little bit. “Good. She deserves to be wild.” “That she does.” Uncle Bryan turned on the road and drove the short distance to his house.

Meeting Scott, Paul, and Alex was nice. He hadn’t expected to meet potential friends on his first day in the country. It made the idea of spending the summer there easier. Something about Scott called to him, more than just the interesting nonconformist T-shirt. Dillon hadn’t bothered to let many people know that he was more than a little bit interested in werewolves, vampires, and such. He knew they weren’t real, but they offered a chance to be different from the norm that permeated the world. If there was one thing he understood, it was being different.

6

DILLON’S ROOM at Uncle Bryan’s house was bigger than his

room at the apartment. Even so, it didn’t take him long to get his bags unpacked into the empty dresser and closet that was half-full of boxes. After that he went to find out the access codes to get online. Uncle Bryan sat on the big leather couch scrolling through the TV menu. He looked up and smiled at Dillon. “Unpacked already?” “Yeah, didn’t have much to bring.” Dillon eased himself down into the matching chair near the couch. “I was wondering if I can get the computer connected.” He opened the notebook computer in his lap. “Oh, yeah. I guess you’ll need the passwords for the network.” Uncle Bryan set the remote down, leaving the screen halfway through finding a new channel. “Give me a minute. I know I have that written down in the computer room.” He stood and walked out of the living room. Dillon closed the laptop, rose, and followed him, suddenly feeling less cut off from the world if he was going to be able to access the Internet. The computer room was a lot more chaotic than the rest of the house. The bookcases weren’t neatly organized.

Things leaned in haphazard piles that looked like they could fall over at any time. There was a small clear space on the desk in front of the large monitor, but on either side of it, the clutter was anywhere from a couple of inches to a foot or more deep. Uncle Bryan sat in the desk chair and opened the top drawer. “It’s in here. I put it in here so it wouldn’t be lost.” Dillon stood near the desk, unsure if he should clear the papers and magazines from the only other chair in the room so he could sit down. “How do you find things in here?” “I actually do have a system.” Uncle Bryan waved the comment away as he pulled a little black book from the drawer. “It might not look like it, but I can normally find things without too much searching.” He opened the book. “Okay, I can write this down for you, or we can go ahead and put it in right now.” Trying not to knock anything over, Dillon sat on the corner of the desk and opened his laptop. He balanced the computer precariously on his legs. “Go ahead and give it to me. Once it’s in the computer, I shouldn’t need it again, unless you change the code on me.” “It’s been the same for years. I don’t believe in changing things I don’t have to.” Uncle Bryan read him the code. Dillon put it in and promptly got Internet access. “Thanks, Uncle Bryan. I think I’m going to go e-mail a couple of friends and let them know what happened.”

Actually just Robbie. He’s the only one who really seems

to care about me. “Okay. If you want, you can help me feed the animals before we go to dinner. You might as well get that figured out. It’s something you’re going to be helping with this summer.” Dillon didn’t have the first clue about taking care of animals, but he didn’t want Uncle Bryan to know that. “Sure. I won’t be too long.” Uncle Bryan shook his head. “Don’t worry about time. It won’t be for a couple of hours yet. I’ll come get you, if you’re not in the living room watching TV with me by then.” “Thanks.” Dillon got off the desk and hurried back to his room. The speed that the Internet responded with surprised him. It was faster than at home. Out here Dillon had expected it to be really slow. But then Mom can’t afford the

fastest package. He found an e-mail from Robbie waiting for him.

Hey Dillon. U ok? Heard about the robbery. According to Pat, Achmed and Phil are dead. People are saying that ur in the Shanks. u were short last night. Dillon sent a quick reply explaining the situation. As soon as he logged into his social media site, a chat window from Robbie popped up. Robbie> Kerens? Really? Where’s that? Dillon typed quickly. Dillon> East of Corsicana. Robbie> About an hour. ☹ That will make it hard to go

to the movies. Dillon> Yeah. Robbie> We might be able to work out something. Ur mom really freaked. A soft smile spread across Dillon’s lips. Dillon> U might say that. At least she didn’t let them

keep me in jail. Robbie> True. So what’s it like out there? At least you have a connection. Dillon> Yeah. I think it’s going to be okay. My uncle’s always been cool. I already met some of his friends down the street. They seem nice. They have a kid about our age. He’s nice too. Robbie> Nice? I hope you’re not too bored. I bet they don’t have a pool out there. I’d miss the pool if I went the whole summer w/o one. Dillon> I haven’t seen one. Robbie> Do u think it would help if I went and told ur mom that ur not a Shank? Dillon had never had anyone offer to stand up for him before. It made him think that Robbie really was his friend. Dillon> I don’t know. Let me talk to her in a few days

and see how she’s doing. If I think it will help, I’ll let you know. Thanks for offering. He swallowed hard. Robbie> We’re friends. Maybe if I talk to her, she’ll

bring u back quicker. I’ll wait for ur ok.

Dillon> Thanks. When does ur job at the pool start? Robbie> Monday. Can’t wait. For nearly an hour, they chatted about summer plans, the different things that Robbie heard through the grapevine about the robbery, none of which had been correct from how Dillon had witnessed it, and they promised to keep in touch. The whole thing helped Dillon relax even more about being out in the country. I’ll still be connected. This won’t be

so bad. I hope.

7

DILLON CRAWLED between the seats of Alex’s van. As the

smallest, he’d offered to get in the backseat. Scott started to argue with him, but he managed to beat the larger boy between the seats. The ride from the house to the pizza parlor went by quickly, even though it was nearly half an hour. The conversation between the adults held Dillon’s attention and everyone talked loud enough for him to hear them. “Dillon, do you have a pizza preference?” Uncle Bryan asked as they walked through the door. “Not really. No fish. Other than that, I’m fairly easy,” Dillon replied. “I’m with you there,” Scott agreed. “Dads know what I like. Come on, Dillon, let’s go play a couple of games. This place doesn’t have much, and they’re fairly old games, but that way we don’t have to sit and listen to the old guys talk more.” Dillon glanced at his uncle, more out of the habit of asking his mother’s permission than anything. Uncle Bryan gave a quick nod, and Dillon followed in Scott’s wake. Scott had been correct; there were only four games and all but one still had 32-bit graphics.

“So what do you want to play?” Scott asked. Dillon shrugged. His mother hadn’t given him any money before he left the house, and after she took the five back she’d given him the previous day, he didn’t have anything. “Whatever you want. I’m not that good with old arcade games,” he lied. He didn’t like lying, particularly to someone he’d just met, but he didn’t want to admit that he didn’t have any money. “I’ll just watch you. See if I can pick up any tips or tricks.” Scott leaned against a faded Pac-Man machine. “I suck at these too. I like WoW, do you play?” “World of Warcraft?” “Yeah. I’ve got a level one hundred Tauren Druid, along with a few other toons.” “I’ve actually never played. Some of my friends at school play.” Again the stumbling block of money hit. “It’s really fun. Come over tomorrow and I’ll show you. It’s got some of the best graphics out there. I know that some of my friends say that Final Fantasy has it beat, but I’m a WoW guy all out. One of my other toons is a Night Elf Hunter, he’s got an eagle. It’s the closest thing I could find to a falconry bird.” “Falconry bird?” It was a term Dillon had never heard before. “Hunting with birds of prey. Like that red-tail you and Bryan brought in today. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.” Dillon shook his head. “City kid. Hunting for me is going to Walmart for bacon.”

Scott’s laugh was soft and pleasant. There was none of the harshness Dillon was used to hearing from other kids their age. “I’ve heard of you city folk before. Some fairly scary tales out there of your exploits. Don’t worry, after a summer out here, I’ll make a country boy of you. It won’t take much. But anyway, we hunt with the hawks. It’s really cool. Some folks say it’s not as effective as hunting with a gun since the bird doesn’t catch something every time it flies, but then a gun hunter doesn’t hit something every time he fires a gun either.” A tidal wave of questions welled up in Dillon. “Will you use that bird we brought in for hunting?” “No.” Scott turned so that he was more or less sitting on the part of the game where the trackball was. “First, she’s a rehab bird. That means she’s got to go back into the wild if at all possible. Second, she had her red tail in already. That shows that she’s a mature bird. We can’t keep mature birds for falconry, only immature birds.” “That’s good.” Dillon turned a chair from the closest table around and sat down, staring up at Scott. “I don’t know why, but ever since I saw her flopping around on the ground, I wanted to help her get back into the sky.” “The sky is where they belong. I always feel sorry for the birds that can’t fly after an accident.” “Does that happen a lot?” “More than we’d like. Those birds normally end up as Ed birds.” Dillon frowned at yet another word he didn’t immediately understand. “Ed birds?”

“Education birds. We, well Paul and Alex more than me, take them out to schools, libraries, garden shows, and the like to let the public see them. It’s really good for folks to see the birds up close. Alex says it helps build sympathy and understanding for them and that it saves lives.” “Wait a minute, there was somebody who came through my school in Dallas last year.” Dillon tried to remember the show, but other than a couple of people showing them birds and giving short talks, he couldn’t recall hardly anything. His classmates had been too disruptive, as they normally were, during the program. “It’s possible. We can check… if it was during the school year. It was probably Paul doing the program on his own. Alex actually works at the local high school in the library. It helps pay the bills. Rehabbers, unless they start out with money, never get rich. It’s all for the love of the birds.” “So how long is the hawk we brought in today going to take to get back in the sky?” Dillon sort of thought of it as his hawk. Scott shifted and bumped something on the video game. It beeped at him and intro music began to play. “Hard to say. It depends on how long that leg takes to heal. I think they’ll just use a bit of epoxy to fix the beak, but the leg will take longer.” “Epoxy? Like glue?” “That’s the stuff. I think it’s a different formula than the one they use for glue, but they can use it to repair the crack in the beak so the bird can be released. Otherwise it could

take a year or more for the beak to grow back right, and they’ll be constantly trimming it. She’ll hate it.” Paul appeared in the doorway to the game room. “Boys, pizza’s here.” Scott got off the game and headed for the door before Dillon could get out of the chair. “Do you think I could help out with the hawk?” Dillon dropped his voice. “I don’t know what you’ll be doing.” “We can talk to my dads about it and see if they mind. Your uncle Bryan will also have to agree.” They cleared the doorway and reentered the noisy main dining room. More people had arrived since they’d been in the game room. The place was nearly packed. The number of people made it very difficult for Dillon to hear over the loud background noise of the other diners. He wanted to ask Scott more questions, not the least of which was why he referred to Alex and Paul as his dads. Dillon covertly watched the two men as they all ate. He couldn’t spot anything that obviously said they were a couple. Then he noticed that they both wore wedding rings of the same design. Mom would have

a fit about Uncle Bryan hanging out with gays. But they’re really nice guys, and Scott’s nice.

8

“UNCLE BRYAN.” Dillon went into the living room after trying

unsuccessfully to fall asleep. “I’ve got a question.” His uncle looked up from the book he’d been reading while soft country music played in the background. “Shoot.” “I was going to wait and talk to Scott about it, but I can’t sleep and thought I would ask you.” Dillon sat on the couch, since Uncle Bryan was in the chair. “Are Alex and Paul a couple?” “Yes.” Uncle Bryan closed his book and set it in his lap. “Is that going to be a problem?” Dillon shook his head. “No, not for me. Mom might have a fit if she knew. I hate to say it, but she’s not very tolerant.” An almost rude huffing sound came from his uncle. “Don’t I know it? She thinks that because she went out with your father and then kept you, she’s the most tolerant person out there. She’s only tolerant toward a few things; other stuff, like gays, she’s less so. Lucky for me, she’s also fairly blind in some aspects.” “Wait a minute.” Dillon sat up a little straighter and looked hard at his uncle. “Are you saying that you’re gay too?” “If you’re going to be staying here all summer you might

as well know. I am. I’ve tried to tell your mother several times, but she’s good about turning every conversation around so it’s about her and it can be rather daunting to try and really tell her anything. And it’s never really been a huge issue. It’s not like I’m going to find somebody to settle down with anytime soon.” Like when he’d been talking to Scott earlier, a torrent of questions welled up in Dillon. “How did you know?” “Know I was gay?” Uncle Bryan got a faraway look and rubbed his chin. “When we were growing up, it wasn’t like it is today. We didn’t have role models all over the place on TV and on sports teams. Everyone was still basically in the closet. We had to stay there too, for the most part. Looking back, I think I have always known. Yeah, I dated girls in high school and the first couple of years in college, but it never felt right. Hugging them always felt like hugging my mother or sister. It was pleasant enough when I was upset, but it didn’t really turn me on, and don’t get me started on sex with them.” He paused and looked at Dillon. “You do understand how sex works, don’t you?” “Yes, Uncle Bryan. I’ve had friends explain it to me. Even if the school has that stupid abstinence-only policy, we talk about it. Mom doesn’t think I know anything, but I do.” “Okay, just checking. I’ve thought the way they handle Sex Ed, from what I’ve heard on the news and from friends, is a real joke. They wonder why teen pregnancy and AIDS is up but they don’t want to do anything to prevent any of it. If people weren’t so wrapped up in their useless religion

and….” Uncle Bryan paused in midsentence and stared at Dillon. “Your mom didn’t say anything about religion lately.” “She won’t.” Dillon stifled a chuckle. “I think after Grandpa’s funeral, she’s given up on it completely. We don’t even have a Bible in the house. I’ve got more interesting fiction to read.” “Okay.” Uncle Bryan grinned at Dillon. “You know, kid, I think we’re going to get along just fine.” “That would be nice.” Even though they were broaching subjects that he wasn’t sure about, Dillon felt more relaxed around his uncle than he normally did around his mother. Particularly when she’d been drinking, which she was doing more and more of lately. So far, he hadn’t found any sign of alcohol in the house. “So girls felt funny? Did hugging guys feel better to you?” “You bet they did. Most guys I’ve been with weren’t fragile or awkward at all. I figured out over time that was part of the problem I had with girls. I think, after the first time I was with a guy, I realized what I’d always known, that I liked guys and not girls.”

He says it so simply, and it makes so much sense. “So why don’t you have a boyfriend or husband or whatever you call it?” “Alex and Paul use the term husband. I like that term too.” Uncle Bryan let out a long, slow breath. “I met someone a few years ago. Before your grandpa died. He was the love of my life. He and I actually bought this place together. One of the reasons I get so down on religion is that his family was really religious. When he came out to

them in college, they had him kidnapped and taken to a special camp where they tried to pray away his gay. It didn’t work, but it left some major scars on him. His family disowned him.” Uncle Bryan shuddered and pursed his lips. “He never really recovered from it. Sometimes, he’d go for a while and everything would be fine. Then he’d flash back to the tortures he’d endured in that place. He killed himself during one of his flashbacks.” Dillon’s throat tightened as Uncle Bryan’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Uncle Bryan. That sounds awful.” “If I could make sure that nobody ever had to endure that crap ever again, I would.” Uncle Bryan bent his head down and blotted his eyes on the edge of his shirtsleeve. “That’s one of the reasons I agreed to let you come stay with me this summer. There was something in your mother’s voice last night that told me if I didn’t step up to the plate, she might try and find somewhere like that to send you in hopes of making sure you weren’t part of that gang.” “But I wasn’t part of the gang.” Dillon tried to keep his own voice from cracking as the emotions in the room grew heavier. “I know that. Like I said earlier, I believe you and will trust you until you prove otherwise. You’re a good kid, Dillon. I want you to have every opportunity you can get in life, and I know that growing up in south Dallas isn’t easy. It’s probably harder now than when your mom and I grew up there.” “It’s not easy.” Dillon couldn’t begin to explain the pressure by folks like Kareem and the other gangbangers

who were either trying to recruit or get folks hooked on drugs, or both. Only the fact that he was mixed kept most of the girls off him, or that was what his mother had told him. He’d seen the way they went after Robbie and how his friend somehow kept them at bay. He didn’t know where his life was going, but he knew he didn’t want to be burdened with a family before he was even out of high school. He couldn’t see himself as a father, like some of the boys were. “Exactly. So if I can do anything to help you out, you just let me know.” Uncle Bryan yawned. “Thank you, Uncle Bryan. I’ll try to be good while I’m out here. It is a lot better than going to some church camp.” “I hope so.” He yawned again. “Tell you what, Dillon, let’s call it a night. I don’t know about you, but I was up way too early this morning to come get you. I think I’m about done.” Dillon covered his own yawn. “Yeah, and I didn’t sleep well last night. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen today.” Uncle Bryan cocked a bushy eyebrow at him. “I hope it turned out better than you were afraid it would.” “It did. It was great. I hope I can learn more about the hawks, and Scott seems really cool too.” “He’s a good kid, like you. I thought you guys would hit it off.” “I think it’s going to be an interesting summer. At least it will be different from anything I’ve done so far.” Dillon stood. “Well, good night, Uncle Bryan. Thanks for rescuing

me from Mom. I hope she mellows out.” “We’ve got three months.” Uncle Bryan followed suit, and they walked toward the hall together. “If we’re lucky, she’ll come to her senses. If not, we’ll work something out.” “I hope so.” As Dillon returned to his room, a coyote howled in the distance. The sound sent a shiver through him, but it was a good feeling. At least it’s not a gunshot.

9

DILLON TRIED not to stare at the overly clean state of Scott’s

bedroom. He didn’t have a lot of experience with other guy’s bedrooms, but he knew how his was, and clean, or even sanitary, weren’t words that were normally used to describe it. The times he’d been in Robbie’s, it had been about the same as his. Scott’s bed was made; the green plaid bedspread seemed to hang perfectly over the sides. There weren’t any obvious piles of clothes waiting for the laundry or having just been cleaned. Even the desk looked organized. The bookshelves were crowded but neat. Overall, it made Dillon feel slightly out of place. “Okay, last night, I said I wanted to show you WoW.” Scott sat in the computer chair and gestured for Dillon to take the kitchen chair, the only thing that didn’t look like it belonged in the room. “I got to thinking about it. I think they have a plan for free play up to a certain level. If you think you’d like to do that, we can. It’s always more fun if you’ve got someone to run with.” “So you’ve got some folks you normally play with?” Dillon leaned forward in the chair so he had a better view of the computer screen as Scott launched the game. “Yeah. I’m part of two different guilds; those are groups of people who get together in World to do raids and harder

quests.” Monsters and warriors filled the screen for a moment, and then a list of characters appeared and Scott selected one. “I think there are a lot of folks in-game that don’t have many friends in real life, so they spend lots of time in World where they can connect. I know sometimes in the summer or over winter break, I really look forward to playing and communicating with people since there aren’t a lot of kids around here. Getting my driver’s license last summer helped but only a little bit.” As the game started, Scott dove into a running monologue about what he was doing and how everything worked. Several times he’d pause and chat with someone he encountered. The chatting reminded Dillon of the computer chat he did with Robbie the previous day, but with their game avatars there, it was more visually attractive. The level of the graphics was about what Dillon was used to with some of his console games, but he’d never encountered other people while playing. That made the game appealing. After completing a particularly hard quest, Scott turned away from the screen and looked at Dillon. “What do you think? Cool, huh?” “Yeah.” Dillon noticed the clock above Scott’s monitor; it was almost 1:00 p.m. “Would you like to play?” “Sure.” Dillon was unsure exactly what to do since Scott had been using his keyboard the whole time with only what appeared to be basic movements with the mouse. “What should I do?”

Scott got out of his chair after he went back to the screen where the different characters were listed. “Here, you drive.” Once Dillon was in the computer chair, Scott got into the kitchen chair and leaned over Dillon’s shoulder. “Why don’t we do you up a temporary character? If you like it, we can get the game installed on your computer and do you a similar one for real.” “Sounds good.” Dillon wasn’t sure what to do first. “Click over there, on the New Character button.” Scott pointed to a button at the bottom of the character list. When another screen popped up, he walked Dillon through making a new character. He spent lots of time leaning close to Dillon. It was closer than people normally got to him, but Dillon didn’t mind Scott being that close. A heavy earthy smell rolled off Scott. There was something nice about it. It didn’t make him nervous like most of the kids at school did. “Hey, boys.” Alex appeared in the doorway. “It’s after one. Do you guys want some lunch? You’ve got the option of leftover pizza from last night, or sandwiches.” Scott, still leaning over the chair, looked at Dillon; it was the closest he’d ever been to a nonthreatening face. His heart skipped a beat. “What do you think?” Dillon glanced from his new night elf toon to Scott. “I’m cool either way.” “Let’s go get some sandwiches, and then we can run this guy around a bit.” Scott stood and walked to the door.

“You guys don’t need to spend all day in World,” Alex said. “It’s a nice day out. You should be outside for a while. Scott, I bet you haven’t shown Dillon the flight pens, or even Mel.” “Mel?” Dillon asked. Who’s Mel? He wondered if there were more people out here who he hadn’t met. “We’ll get to that in a bit. I’ve just got him to roll up a toon on my account to see if he likes WoW or not.” Scott went down the hallway. “But don’t worry, I won’t forget about Mel this afternoon.” “Make sure you don’t.” Alex gestured for Dillon to follow Scott down the hall. It was a couple of hours later—once Scott had Dillon totally hooked on World of Warcraft—before they made it outside. “You’re doing really good.” Scott held the door open for Dillon. “I can’t believe you’ve never played before. You’re a natural.” A warm flush filled Dillon’s cheeks. He wasn’t used to getting compliments from friends. “Thanks. I guess I need to get the game loaded onto my computer so we can run together.” “If you want, after we get the critters fed, we can go down to Bryan’s and get you started. It’s going to take a few hours to actually download everything, but once you’ve got the process started you should be fine.” Scott strolled over to a chain-link gate and opened it. “So, to make Alex happy, let’s show you around the flights. Now, I have to let you know, we don’t let just anyone back here. Most of these

birds are going back into the wild, and we don’t want to get them too accustomed to people.” Some of the pens had small shed-like buildings with chain-link enclosed areas in front of them. A few were just chain-link pens with branches and tree stumps in them. Most of them had birds of various shapes and sizes flying or perched around in them. The first flight had a big gray bird standing in a wading pool. Dillon stared at it. “Okay, what’s that? A stork?” “Great Blue heron, a really nasty character too. They use those long pointed beaks to spear fish and reptiles in the wild… well, when you’re dealing with them in captivity, they aren’t opposed to using their beaks on people. Paul hates dealing with them. Alex is better at it. But we’re all ready for this one to go back into the wild.” “What’s wrong with it?” Dillon reached for the chain-link to peer closer at the bird. Scott caught his hand in a firm but gentle grasp that spread warmth through Dillon. “Watch the fence. Some of these guys, like this one, aren’t opposed to trying to attack through the fence. We don’t lean on, or hold on to them. Don’t want to take you back to Bryan with holes in you.” Dillon gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, probably not good. So will that hawk we brought in yesterday end up out here?” “Eventually. She was doing decently this morning. I think Alex said once her foot is stronger, he’ll move her out here so her wing muscles don’t start to atrophy.” “Atrophy?” “Go soft, get weak.” Scott motioned for them to keep

walking. “I often forget that I’ve been around this stuff for a few years, but there’s a learning curve when you first start hanging around the birds and all.” “I bet. So Paul and Alex haven’t always been rehabbers?” They stopped at a pen full of songbirds. A large number of them sat on a huge bird feeder while others splashed in a concrete birdbath. “As long as I’ve known them, they have. Paul says it was Alex’s idea at first, but it’s something they both enjoy. Paul likes the education aspect of things and Alex is better at patching birds up.” “What do you mean, as long as you’ve known them? Isn’t one of them your dad?” “They’re both my dad, but I’m adopted. I came to live with them when I was six.” “Was it hard to get used to them being gay?” Dillon felt awkward as soon as he asked the question, but it was something he wanted to know. Scott was quiet for a moment while they watched a robin splash water all over a blue jay. “Not really. It’s who they are. They love me as their own kid. It’s better than being in the foster care system. It also helps that I’m gay.” For a second Dillon didn’t know what to say. He turned from the birds and looked at Scott. “You’re gay?” “Yeah. I hope that’s not going to be a problem. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” There was more than a little bit of cautious questioning in Scott’s tone. Dillon shook his head. “It’s not a problem. Like I told

Uncle Bryan last night when he told me about him, Alex and Paul, Mom would have a fit, but she’s not going to be around much. It doesn’t matter to me.” Is the world trying to

tell me something? I’ve suddenly ended up surrounded by really nice gay guys. I’ve been trying to figure out what Robbie really wants from me. Like Uncle Bryan said last night, girls feel awkward to me. “Good.” Scott flashed him a heart-stopping smile. “This summer’s going to be a lot of fun.” Dillon smiled back. “I hope so. That’s what I told Uncle Bryan last night too. I think it’s going to be good out here.” “Come on, I want you to meet Mel.” Scott strolled down the aisle of flight pens. “So who’s Mel?” Dillon hurried along in his wake. He wanted to stop and look in each of the pens as they passed, but Scott seemed to have a destination in mind. “Mel’s a special friend. You’ll see, in just a second.” They rounded a corner and Scott stopped at a flight that looked like most of the others. It had a small shed on the back of it, with an open window. There weren’t any birds sitting on the perches in the flight. Scott whistled. “Mel!” A hawk similar to the one that Dillon held the previous day flew out the window and landed on the perch closest to them. It stared at them with bright, inquisitive eyes. “Mel’s a hawk.” Dillon inadvertently stepped closer to the wire. “She’s beautiful.” “Actually we’re not sure if Mel’s a he or a she. He’s

kind of an in-betweener. Kinda big if he’s a boy, and kinda small for a girl. Mel’s a fairly androgynous name. Plus Mel Blanc was one of the main voice actors for the Looney Tunes, you know, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. We hunt ducks and bunnies, so I thought it was appropriate.” Scott’s tone took on a shade of pride as he talked. It was even brighter than when he explained Warcraft. “You hunt with him?” Dillon looked at the needle-sharp talons and imagined them sinking into things, like his arm. He repressed a shudder. But there was a look in Mel’s dark brown eyes that called to Dillon. It wasn’t as defiant as the other hawk had been the previous day, but it was still proud and powerful. “In the fall and winter. Not right now. We hunt mostly rabbits and squirrels, but he’s taken a couple of ducks off of creeks. Last year we went to a field meet in Abilene, and he caught his first jackrabbit. That was a tussle, but it was three times his weight.” “Wow. I had no idea they could do something like that.” “They can do a lot more than most folks think. They’re really smart too. Let’s go get his food and after he eats, if you’d like, you can hold him.” The idea brightened Dillon’s day, which had already been a good one by his standards. “Can I? That would be awesome.” “Sure. There’s a big difference between holding a perfectly healthy bird and an injured one. You’ll see.” He turned toward the house. “Let’s go get his food and a couple of gloves.”

Dillon raised an eyebrow. “Gloves?” “Yup.” Scott grinned mischievously at him. “We wouldn’t want him to stick his talons in your hand or anything. Always wear a glove when you’re handling raptors.” They hurried off only to return a couple of minutes later and slip into the flight chamber with a glove for each of them and bird food. Mel gulped down a couple of dead mice Scott offered him from leather-gloved fingers. Dillon stood enraptured by it. Even while eating Mel moved purposely and elegantly. He seemed to be undisturbed by their presence in his enclosure as he ate. Every brown feather looked to be perfect. Nothing appeared out of place or damaged. By the time Mel was finished with his meal, Dillon’s hand in the leather glove had started to sweat from a combination of heat and nerves. “You ready?” Scott asked. “I guess. What do I do?” He tried not to sound too nervous. “Just hold your left hand out. Don’t drop it down.” Scott stepped closer. Dillon’s heart pounded as Scott moved beside him, then held his hand where Mel stood up behind Dillon’s outstretched arm. “Mel, step,” Scott said softly. The hawk moved quickly from Scott’s hand to Dillon’s. The weight was more than Dillon had been expecting, and he nearly dropped his arm, but he remembered Scott telling

him not to, so he tightened his muscles and held his hand up. Mel stared at him. It was a similar look to what he’d given Scott when they came in with his food. “I don’t have any food.” Dillon almost whispered. He wasn’t sure how loud he should talk around him. He didn’t want Mel getting upset. Mel glanced over his shoulder at Scott. “I’m out too.” With a final disappointed look at Dillon, Mel shook his feathers and launched off to land on the perch just outside of the window. He rubbed his beak on the limb, then lifted a foot and began grooming. “I think we’ve been dismissed.” Scott walked over to the gate. “Come on, we got other critters to feed, or rather I do. You can help if you want.” Dillon stood for a moment and just watched Mel. He still had his hand up, where it had been when the hawk was on it. Mel turned around on the perch, which broke Dillon’s concentration. He mentally shook himself. “Oh. Sure. I can help you. That’s one of the things I’m supposed to be helping Uncle Bryan with, feeding his critters.” “We all do that a lot around here.” Scott opened the gate as Dillon approached. “There’s always critters that need feeding. For us it gets busier in the fall when we’re also trying to get the hunting birds out after school.” “So you have more hunting birds than just Mel?” Dillon waited while Scott locked the gate. “Yeah, both Alex and Paul have birds too. They’ve both got Harris’s Hawks so they can hunt them together. I’ll

probably get a Harris one of these days too. It’s really cool seeing a bunch of hawks hunt together.” Scott launched into an explanation of gang hawking. It was the first time Dillon could remember the term “gang” not making him nervous. He fell into easy step with Scott as they moved about the center feeding the birds that needed it. Every time they went past Mel’s flight, Dillon looked at him as he sat on his perch in the late afternoon light. I can’t believe this. Just

yesterday, I never would’ve believed people hunted with birds, and now I’ve held one. This is really shaping up to be a good summer.

10

DILLON WATCHED the Dallas skyline grow larger as the

forest and fields gave way to houses and strip malls. “Are you sure Mom said she’d meet us there?” “That’s what she said,” Uncle Bryan replied. “Did you think she sounded better than she did a couple of weeks ago?” Dillon had been really excited when his mother called the night before, the first time since he’d been at his uncle’s. Then when she said he needed to come into the Dallas police station, he’d gotten nervous. Even with his uncle reassuring him that everything was going to be all right, he kept having visions of being told he was going to have to go to jail, or juvenile hall. He was enjoying his time with Uncle Bryan, Scott, and his family. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he found somewhere to belong, but then his mother called to say that he had to report to the police about the robbery. “I think she did. It can be hard to tell with Milly. She’s always been really good about hiding what she’s feeling. But she did at least sound sober, which was surprising, all things considered.” They drove past the exit for Fair Park, and downtown loomed before them. After being out in the country for two weeks, all the buildings seemed to press in on Dillon. It felt

like he was going into a kind of institution or confinement. He didn’t like the feeling. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his worn jeans. For a moment he wondered if he should’ve found his best jeans for the trip in, then remembered most of his jeans were in about the same condition. At least he’d picked out one of his best shirts—a hunter green that Uncle Bryan said looked good on him and set off his eyes. He ran his hand through his curly brown hair for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d left the house. He’d already told Uncle Bryan he thought he needed a haircut, but they didn’t have time to stop before meeting his mother at the police station. Parking was a hassle, and by the time they met his mother on the police station steps, they just had a couple of minutes to find the office where they needed to be. His mother gave him a quick glance-over. “Good, you wore your nice shirt.” She looked at Uncle Bryan. “I wish you’d stopped to get him a haircut. It would’ve helped convince them that he’s not in a gang.” Uncle Bryan rolled his eyes. “What does having short hair have to do with being in a gang? Look, if it’s that big a deal, we’ll stop and get him one as soon as we’re done here. I take it you’ve got money for that?” She turned and hurried them up the steps without another word. By the time they reached the hallway outside the office they needed to be in, a burly man in a clean white shirt and a shoulder holster stood looking for them. “Mildred Smith, and Dillon Smith?” he asked as they

strolled toward him. “Sorry we’re late, officer,” his mother said. She flashed him a coy look as if she was trying to be sexy, as the ring of her high heels on the linoleum finally died away. Inwardly Dillon groaned and wished it had just been him and Uncle Bryan. At least Uncle Bryan wouldn’t be

trying to come on to the officer. “This is my brother, Bryan Smith.” She gestured to Uncle Bryan. “Dillon’s spending the summer with him out in Kerens. Far away from those awful Shanks.” The officer gestured for them to enter the office. “I’m Detective Graham. This is just a fact-gathering meeting, so please come in and have a seat.” A lone folder sat on an otherwise empty desk situated in the middle of the room with several chairs on the close side and a single chair on the far side. Graham walked over and sat on the far side. “Now, Mrs. Smith, I did advise you on the phone that you could bring a lawyer if you wanted to, or thought that young Mr. Smith needed one. Since you have not, I presume that you do not feel the need for one at this time?” “Please, call me Milly, all of my friends do. And no, we do not feel that Dillon needs a lawyer at this time. He was extremely adamant that he is not part of the Shanks, and I believe him.” Dillon’s heart leapt. Mom believes me? Why hasn’t

she told me this before? “That is what his statement at the time of the incident

says. That he was just an innocent bystander in the attempted robbery.” Graham made some notes on the first sheet of the file he opened. He looked at Dillon. “Is that still the way you remember everything?” There was a piercing edge to the look that reminded Dillon of Mel waiting for Scott to feed him. He suppressed a shiver. “Yes, Detective Graham,” Dillon said, trying his best not to let his voice shake. “What do you say to Charlie Holmes’s accusation that you are part of the South Side Shanks and were the one who thought of hitting the convenience store?” Dillon straightened and glared at Graham. “That’s not true. They’ve been trying to recruit me for years, but I’d never be part of their gang. And, who’s Charlie Holmes?” Detective Graham’s intense look never changed. It caused Dillon to slump into his chair as quickly as he’d straightened. “I’m not part of the Shanks,” he mumbled. “You probably know Holmes as Kareem Hassan. Right now, it’s your word against his, kid.” The detective’s look softened. “The store owner says that you were with them, that Holmes had you by the shoulder, almost like he was going to use you as a shield. He assures us that you didn’t do anything after he pushed his panic button and shot the others. We didn’t find a gun on you and you don’t have a record.” “That’s good, isn’t it?” Uncle Bryan spoke up for the first time since they entered the office. “That will help if this goes to trial.” Dillon’s heart rose into his throat. “Trial?” He slumped

deeper into the chair. “All I wanted to do was stop in there and get a soda with the five dollars Mom gave me because it was the last day of school.” He glanced frantically to the adults in the room. “It’s not my fault that the Shanks picked that time to go in there and hold up the place. It really isn’t.” Detective Graham made some more notes. “For what it’s worth, kid, I believe you. Your reactions aren’t those of a gang member. The drug test we did also came back negative. Most gang members aren’t clean. I bet you’ve been picked on a bunch by these guys. I’ll pass my opinion to the DA, and it will be up to him to decide if you go to trial with Holmes or not. I guess the clerk saved the taxpayers some money by killing the other two.” “Too bad he didn’t get Kareem too,” Dillon’s mother muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Dillon, your mother said you’re staying down in Kerens right now, is that correct?” Graham made some more notes. “Yes, sir.” His voice felt stronger. “I’m spending the summer with Uncle Bryan. Mom thought it would be a good idea for me to be out of town for a while. Let everything cool down.” “Probably not a bad idea,” Detective Graham agreed. “I highly recommend you don’t leave the state. That would look really bad for you. Once the DA has made his decision, we’ll know more. Actually, if the Shanks think you might say anything against them, it might be safer for you to be out of town, somewhere people wouldn’t think to look for you.”

Dillon’s mother paled. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Uncle Bryan patted her hand. “If nothing else, my place is hard to find. Dillon will be safe out there.” Detective Graham tore off a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to Uncle Bryan. “Mr. Smith, if I could get your contact information and physical address, just in case we need to get in touch with Dillon and can’t reach Mrs. Smith.” “Of course.” Uncle Bryan quickly jotted down the information and passed it back to the detective. Graham glanced over it and nodded. “Good. Well, that should be all for now. If we need anything, we’ll be in touch.” He stood and walked to the door as they rose from their chairs. “Thank you for being so understanding,” Dillon’s mother said with a sexy look. “We know that things aren’t always black and white.” He held the door for them. They left the police station quickly and paused on the sweeping steps. “So, Milly, do you want to go get some lunch with us, before I take Dillon to get a haircut?” Uncle Bryan asked. “No time. I need to get to work. My boss wasn’t happy about me taking the time to come do this, but unless I wanted to get a lawyer to come and sit with you guys I had to be here.” She gave Dillon a brief hug. “You keep being a good boy for Uncle Bryan, and I’ll try and see you in a week or so. I think I can find my way out there without getting too lost.” She turned and retreated down the stairs, only to stop

at the bottom and turn back to them. “I’ll call you soon, sweetie.” Then she took off down the sidewalk, the sound of her high heels ringing out over the din of the traffic. The feeling of abandonment he experienced from time to time since going out to Kerens washed over Dillon. He sighed and looked at Uncle Bryan. “Well, I guess that could’ve gone worse. They could’ve arrested me.” Uncle Bryan started down the stone steps, heading the opposite way Dillon’s mother had gone. “That would’ve been worse. Actually, when you look at it, I think it went pretty good. At least the detective says he believes you. I’ve got my fingers crossed that everything’s going to come out okay. Tell you what. I know a nice little place to get you a haircut that’s not too far away from a couple of good spots for lunch. What do you say?” With a final patting of his hair, Dillon nodded. “Sure. If we let this stuff get much longer it’ll look like it’s ready for an afro, and I’m not about to do that.” Uncle Bryan laughed. “I can’t see you with a ’fro. I thought those went out of style years ago.” “Some folks at school were trying to bring them back last year. I got just enough of my hair from my father that it might work, but I don’t want to try it.” As they walked away from the police station, Dillon relaxed more and more. If the

detective believes me, then there is hope. I don’t think I’ll ever go into another store just to buy a soda, ever again. It’s not worth the risk.

11

DILLON STARTLED awake as something knocked on his

bedroom window. For a moment he lay there, trying to figure out what made the noise he heard. Then it came again. He rolled out of the bed and stumbled sleepily to the window. Scott stood outside, grinning at him. After opening the window, Dillon stared out. “What are you doing out here?” “Come out. I’ve got something to show you.” His voice low, Scott’s grin didn’t fade. “Can it wait?” Dillon failed to stifle a yawn. “Nope. This is a nighttime-only event. Come on.” Dillon glanced at the illuminated clock on the nightstand. It read 11:45 p.m. He yawned again as he turned back to Scott. “I need to get dressed.” “If you insist. But don’t take too long.” “How do I get out without waking Uncle Bryan?” Dillon found the shirt he’d taken off an hour before and pulled it over his head. “Will this screen pop out easily?” Scott asked, pulling lightly at the edge of the screen. “Let me look at it.” With his jeans in hand, Dillon walked back to the window. There were a couple of release tabs

along the bottom of the window. “I think so. Give me a sec.” He turned his back on Scott and pulled off his shorts and put on his jeans. When he couldn’t grab his discarded socks easily, he grabbed a clean pair before slipping on his shoes. Then he easily removed the screen and was out the window, thankful that it wasn’t the apartment where he wasn’t on the ground floor. Here, there wasn’t even a drop from the window. Scott handed him a flashlight. “Here, but wait a couple of minutes before you turn it on. I didn’t need mine; the moon’s nearly full.” There was enough light from the sky Dillon could easily see where he was going and he fell into step with Scott as they headed down the driveway. “So what’s all this about?” “It’s a surprise. I got to thinking about it, and you’ve had a hard day and could use something cool to end it with.” Scott sounded smug and happy as they walked down the road toward his house. “Yeah, but why didn’t you want to do this earlier when you didn’t have to come knocking on my window? What do we tell Uncle Bryan if he finds out I snuck out? Things are going pretty good with him right now. I’d hate to screw that up.” “If Bryan gets upset, I’ll talk to him. Explain that this whole thing was my idea to make your day better.” Scott turned up a driveway. Dillon paused. “Wait a second. Who lives here?” “Oh, this is the place, but don’t worry about it. The Tubalds are out of town right now. My dads are keeping an

eye on their place for them, but we won’t be anywhere near the house.” Scott grabbed Dillon’s hand and pulled playfully. The touch sent tingles across Dillon’s skin and warmth flowed up his arm. His heart beat fast and strong as a strange knot formed in his gut. “If you’re sure.” He gave into Scott’s tug. Scott didn’t turn his hand loose as they continued down the driveway. “I’m sure. It’s going to be fine. We’re almost there.” The night-dark forest closed in around them for about fifty feet, and then it gave way to a large clearing. On the far side of the clearing, little lights danced along the edge of a pond. “Are those fireflies?” Dillon asked. “Yup.” The smug happy tone in Scott’s voice intensified as he let go of Dillon’s hand and spread his arms wide. “Isn’t it cool? I thought you would like to see them. They aren’t around all year, just a few weeks during the summer.” He walked toward a dark shape near the water’s edge. “Come on, we can sit over here and watch them.” Dillon hurried to follow. He’d never seen fireflies before and was entranced by the way they flickered off and on like off-white holiday lights. Around them came the soft night noises of frogs, crickets, a whippoorwill, and an occasional soft buzzing that he couldn’t identify. After the day of going into the police station, it felt alien to him, but he welcomed it. It was just another aspect to the area he was becoming more comfortable with than the urban sprawl he’d grown up in.

The bench at the water’s edge was concrete, still warm from the day’s sun. It was like it had been set up to take advantage of the night view of the pond. At that moment, the moon reflected perfectly in the center of the pond. I wish

there was some way to hold on to this image for the rest of my life. This is perfect. I wonder if there’s any way I could get something like this when I grow up and get my own place. “What are you thinking?” Scott’s voice broke into Dillon’s inner thoughts. “How perfect this is. Areas like this aren’t that common in the city. I’d love to have this for my very own all the time.” “I hear you. Every time I go into town, I realize how lucky I am to live out here, well away from the noise and chaos.” A mischievous grin spread across his face, and the moonlight glistened off the perfection of blue eyes. “Speaking of noises, let’s try something. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.” Scott took a deep breath and let out a long high whistle that sounded a lot like a horse’s whinny. He repeated the process. “Are you trying to call horses?” Dillon asked. “No,” Scott replied, barely above a whisper. “Stay as still and quiet as possible, and we’ll see what happens.” He whistled again. In the distance, something responded. Scott repeated his whistle. This time the answering call came from the other direction. Then the first one sounded closer. Scott called one more time, then fell silent. Four or five calls

came from all around them. “What are they?” Dillon did his best to keep his voice low so as not to break the scene developing around them. A shadow passed over the moon and rippled across the pond. Dillon swallowed as his heart pounded harder than ever. Scott took his hand again, and Dillon jumped slightly, but held on to the anchor as the unknown unfolded in the darkness around him. Another shadow swooped out of the trees and the calls became a crescendo around them. Then a small shape landed near them. The moonlight shone on the large blinking eyes of the small owl. It called at them once before taking off again. “Owls,” Dillon whispered. “Little tiny owls.” His fear vanished, and the wonder of the scene flooded through him. “Yeah.” Scott’s words were little more than warm breath that tickled the side of Dillon’s neck. Knowing what he was seeing, it was easier for Dillon to spot the little owls as they flew and whistled through the trees around the lake. A couple of them started diving into the gathered lightning bugs, scattering the flashing lights. A deeper call reverberated through the woods. It sounded more like what Dillon thought owls should sound like. Suddenly all the smaller owls grew silent and flew away. Dillon looked but couldn’t see the source of their concern, then a larger shadow passed over the moon. “Great horned owl,” Scott told him in a continued hushed tone. “Be really quiet and really still, maybe she’ll land.”

Dillon held his breath, but didn’t hear anything until a branch creaked lightly. He turned his gaze toward the noise. Scott tapped him on the shoulder with his free hand and pointed low across the pond. The moonlight was just enough to pierce the leafy cover and cast a silhouette of the owl. When it blinked, the light reflected for a split second in its wide eyes. Then, as quietly as it had arrived, it left. With a soft huff, Dillon let out the breath he held, and then it seemed like the whole clearing let out its breath too as he suddenly became aware of the toads and crickets again. He hadn’t even realized they had all gone quiet as the owls visited the pond, drawn in by Scott’s whistling. “That was incredible.” Dillon smiled at Scott. “How did you get those smaller owls to come in like that, and what were they?” “Screech owls, like the ones we’ve got in the one flight at the house. All I did was whistle. Owls are very territorial and calls are one way that they mark their areas. They all thought I was an intruder and were showing up to kick my ass. I guess the great horned came in hoping to catch one of the smaller guys. So, what do you think, was this worth getting up in the middle of the night for?” A wide smile spread across Dillon’s lips. “Yeah, it was totally worth getting up for. I just wish we had some way of capturing it on video or something. But I bet that wouldn’t be as awesome as being here in real life. Thank you.” Unexpectedly, Scott hugged him. “You’re welcome. I wanted to make your day better.”

Without thinking about it, Dillon hugged him back. It felt good. “You’ve made my days better since I came out here.” “Good, ’cause I’m not done tonight.” Scott turned loose of him and rose from the bench. He pulled his shirt off. “Come on, I’m going to show you another fun thing about country living.” Dillon stared at him as he slipped out of his shoes and pants to stand there naked in the moonlight. “What?” Scott dashed off into the pond. “Skinny-dipping. After a hot day, it doesn’t get any better than this.” The happy feeling of seeing the owls and the strange pleasantness of the hug hadn’t faded. Dillon followed suit and quickly splashed in the water after Scott. It was surprisingly warm, but cool enough to be refreshing. The pond bottom squished between his toes and felt odd, not like the concrete of a swimming pool. But there was a pleasant naturalness to it he liked. Scott laughed and splashed water at him. Dillon splashed him back. He felt freer than he could ever remember as the moon lit them and the water flowed around them. “This is something else I wish we could do every day.” Dillon flung more water at Scott. “Yeah, I do too.” Scott dove under the water and disappeared. Dillon looked around. The water was about chest high, but it was dark, and he couldn’t see Scott. Something brushed his legs. He stumbled backward and fell. The water closed over his head and for a second he panicked,

struggling to get to his feet so he could breathe again. A bit of the pond water flowed down his throat. He came up sputtering. Scott reached out for him. “Dillon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” Wiping a hand over his face to get the water off him, Dillon wanted to glare at Scott but couldn’t. Scott was just trying to help him relax and feel good. He was doing a good job too. “I’m okay.” Dillon took a long slow breath. “Just swallowed a bit of pond water.” He added a playful tone to his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you back sometime.” Laughing, Scott hugged him again. “I’ll try and watch out for that.” Something inside Dillon stirred as their wet bodies pressed together. He’d never felt as good as he did standing there hugging Scott. His pulse quickened. He let go of Scott and scooped up water to splash between them. Uncertain of the strange and wonderful sensations inside him, Dillon wondered what Scott wanted from him. I don’t

know if I really care as long as I can keep feeling like this. They splashed in the water until Dillon gave a huge yawn. The moon had moved from the center of the pond to the western edge. Dillon waded out of the pond and sat down on the stone bench. Most of the heat it had held earlier was gone. He shivered. “I guess you didn’t bring any towels?” Scott came out of the water. In the moonlight his body glistened with water. It was fairly obvious he worked out; he had a well-defined chest and abs. For a second Dillon’s

gaze drifted lower, but then he jerked his eyes up to Scott’s beaming face. “Nope, no towels. That’s part of the fun of skinnydipping. Drying off afterward. But you look tired. I guess it’s going to be squishy shoes.” Dillon frowned. That was something he hadn’t thought about. He hated wet shoes, but the ground was too rough and uneven for him to even think about going barefoot back to Uncle Bryan’s house. “Oh well, we’ll just have to remember next time to bring a towel or two.” The moonlight caught the twinkle in Scott’s eyes. “Next time. So you want to do this again?” “If we have the opportunity, sure.” Dillon pulled on his jeans. “You didn’t say how long these folks were going to be out of town. I don’t know if we’ll have time.” “I’ll check with Alex, he’ll know.” Scott sounded as happy as Dillon felt. They walked back to Uncle Bryan’s, and before Dillon slipped back through the window, they hugged again. Then Scott disappeared into the moonlit night. Dillon stood at the window and watched him fade away into the darkness just before he reached the road. After a day of ups and downs, this had been the perfect way to end it. And although he hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about sex one way or the other, hugging Scott certainly felt nice. What does all this

mean?

12

HIS DREAMS had been filled with naked frolicking in the

pond. Scott figured prominently for most of them, but Dillon was confused by Robbie’s appearance as a lifeguard demanding to know why they were naked in his pool. When the pond turned into the city pool Robbie worked at, things got weird with people running around, pointing and screaming at them until Scott grabbed Dillon’s hand and ran off into the woods, which had been at the edge of the pool. Once they’d been in the woods, they’d laughed about the other people’s reactions and hugged. Dillon woke up with a raging hard-on. The sun poured through his windows, even though it felt like he’d just gone to sleep. Remembering Robbie’s accusations in the dream, he shivered and headed to the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom. Once he had the pond water washed off, he dressed in clean clothes. As he went to make his bed, the smell of the pond hit him. It brought a mental image of Scott walking out of it with the moonlight shining off his naked body. It was a happy thought, but Dillon wasn’t sure if he wanted to try and go to sleep with the wet green smell engulfing him. He quickly stripped the bed and carried the sheets and pillowcase to the laundry room.

When he made it into the kitchen to dig up some breakfast, Uncle Bryan was already at the table with a crumb-and-syrup-stained plate in front of him. The smell of fresh waffles had almost faded from the area. “You okay?” Uncle Bryan asked. Dillon went to the fridge and pulled out the orange juice. “Yeah, just slept late. Actually, I went for a walk last night with Scott.” Uncle Bryan smiled as he carried his plate to the sink. “Thanks for being honest with me. I really appreciate that. It would’ve been nice to have been told before you left, but I remember being a teenager. Where’d you guys go?” “Down to the pond a couple houses down.” Dillon poured himself a glass of juice. “Scott said his folks were watching the place for the owners. There were fireflies and screech owls. We even had a great horned owl come in while we were there.” Uncle Bryan returned to his chair. “I’m really glad that you’re having fun while you’re out here. Tell you what, from now on, if you’re going to go slipping out your window in the middle of the night, leave me a note so I won’t be worried.” Dillon was thankful he wasn’t looking at Uncle Bryan as his face went slack. How did he know I went out the window? “Okay.” He plugged the waffle iron back in and stirred the batter that was sitting in a mixing bowl. “So, Dillon, is there anything else you want to tell me about?”

Maybe Uncle Bryan can help me understand these

feelings I’m having. He’s been through it before. He might know if it’s real or just some strange teenage thing. He’s been honest with me so far. “Tell you? Not really. But I wanted to talk to you about some stuff.” “Okay. I’m open this morning. I’ve got to meet a client this afternoon, but that’s an online chat, so there’s no worries there.” Dillon carried his juice over to the chair that had quickly become his seat at the table. He sat and pursed his lips. “I don’t know how to start this.” He let out a slow breath. “When this whole thing with me staying out here started, you told me you were gay and explained that girls just hadn’t felt right.” Uncle Bryan nodded but didn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking on that. Actually….” He paused and tried to figure out the right words to say. “I’m trying to sort out some feelings that have been coming up lately.” “With Scott?” Dillon sighed. “Yeah, with Scott.” “Before you go too far, let me ask you a few questions and maybe these questions can help you sort out what you’re feeling.” “Okay.” From his chair, Dillon spotted that the light of the waffle iron had gone out, so he walked over to it and poured in some batter. “First, have you ever been with a girl? Kissed a girl? Hugged a girl? Been attracted to a girl?” “No. No. Yes, one of Robbie’s friends is really huggy. I don’t know if I’ve ever been attracted to a girl or not. They’re

just people for the most part.” Dillon leaned against the marble countertop and waited for his waffle to bake. “When you hugged Robbie’s friend, did you feel anything then? Any stirrings, any urges?” Did I? Dillon pondered. “Not really. I don’t know how to explain. I guess it was more like hugging one of the cousins that was at Grandpa’s funeral.” “Was she pretty?” Uncle Bryan took a sip of his coffee. “I guess. She’s a cheerleader. Most of the guys in school want to go out with her.” “But you didn’t?” “No. Like I said, she’s a friend of Robbie’s.” “Just a friend or his girlfriend?” Dillon removed the waffle from the waffle iron. “Friend. Robbie doesn’t have many girlfriends.” “Is Robbie gay?” Before he said no, Dillon remembered wondering what Robbie really wanted from him. “I don’t know. He’s never said anything about it, but I can’t really figure out why he’s my friend.” “We can come back to that.” Uncle Bryan took another drink. “So have you been with a guy? Hugged a guy? Kissed a guy? Been attracted to a guy?” Dillon paused in his smearing real butter into the holes of his waffle. “No. Yes. No. I don’t know.” “So you’ve hugged a guy. How was that different for you than hugging the cheerleader?” “Well,” Dillon said, walking back to his seat with his

breakfast, “you used the term stirrings earlier. I think there were definitely some stirrings.” “Here’s one of the important questions. Did it feel good?” Without pausing Dillon nodded. “Yes. It felt really good.” “Is it something you want to do again?” He cut a piece of waffle off, making sure to get plenty of syrup and butter in the bite. “I think so.” The waffle was one of the best that he ever tasted. The coat of syrup smeared across his tongue in a sweet, runny envelopment. “I’m going to presume that this hug came from Scott and that’s where the questions are coming from.” Dillon nodded again as he chewed. “I hope this isn’t awkward for you.” “It’s not a conversation that I ever thought I’d be having. I doubt most gay men ever think they’ll have a talk about how to tell if you’re gay or not with their nephews.” Uncle Bryan started to take another drink, then put his coffee cup back on the table. “I guess I almost expected something like this when you came out here.” “What do you mean?” Dillon went for his next piece of waffle. “I can’t really tell you for sure. There was just a feeling I got when I received your mother’s call a couple of weeks ago.” “Are you saying you suspected I was gay? I didn’t think it was possible to tell if someone’s gay by just looking at them.” “In most cases it’s not. Sometime folks will wear

clothes that have meaning, or get tattoos that mark them as gay, but just in normal clothes, no, it’s not possible to tell for sure if someone is or isn’t. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying, or psychic and I don’t know how I feel about psychics.” “I guess my biggest question, Uncle Bryan, is what I should do about Scott.” Dillon ran a piece of waffle through some of the syrup on the plate. “My advice, take it or leave it, is just do what feels good. As long as things feel good, let them happen. If something doesn’t feel good, or right, then tell him about it. Also, be honest with Scott. He’s a good kid, one of the best that I’ve ever known. He doesn’t deserve being jerked around by anyone.” “He is a great guy. If nothing else, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had lots of friends.” Uncle Bryan finished off his coffee and went for more. “You know your mother would have cats if she knew we were talking about this. Gang threat or no, she’d have you back home in a heartbeat.” “I know.” Dillon chewed slowly. “I guess we need to keep this from her, huh?” “At least for now. It’s not as hard as it sounds.” Uncle Bryan returned to his chair. “Until you get this all figured out in your head, it’s probably better to keep this between us, and maybe Scott.” “Okay, so I’ve got another silly question.” “Shoot.” Uncle Bryan took a drink of his fresh cup of coffee.

“Are all the people in this area gay? Or just the ones I’ve met so far?” Uncle Bryan snorted coffee out his nose. “Damn, that hurts.” He ran to the cupboard and grabbed a dishrag to dab at his face. When he straightened, he had slight red marks on the edge of and below his nose. He smiled at Dillon. “Don’t ever make me laugh while I’m drinking coffee again. That really does hurt.” Dillon grinned back. “I’m sorry about that.” “I guess since all you met is Alex, Paul, and Scott, it kinda seems that way, doesn’t it? No, everyone out here isn’t gay. But, they’re all understanding. The ones who aren’t don’t stay long. Alex and Paul have been out here longer than anyone else, so they’re pillars of the community. The fact they’re nice guys really helps our cause.” Uncle Bryan returned to his chair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard the question if it was something in the water. Thanks for reminding me about that. I’ll have to tell Alex and make sure he doesn’t spew when I do.” He took a sip of coffee and frowned. “Well, I guess coffee’s done for a little while. That still hurts.” “Do you want me to get you some OJ?” Dillon stood and carried his empty plate to the sink. “Nah. Unless you have more on your mind, I think I’m going to go check e-mail and social media for a few minutes then get ready for my client call.” Dillon turned and leaned on the counter. “You know, you’ve never said what you do before. The past two weeks, you’ve been around here and available whenever I need

anything.” “I do graphic design. It’s something I can do way out here and still get a lot of freelance work. If I do say so myself, I’m good enough it pays well. One drawback to living out in the boonies is finding work unless you have a trade where you can work from home and that’s not always as easy as it sounds.” “Okay. I was just wondering. Hope you don’t think I’m being nosy. Mom never really said anything about what you do, other than you’ve helped her out from time to time when emergencies happen.” “I’ve offered to help a bit more too, but she didn’t want the help on a regular basis. With what I inherited and my graphic art, I’m doing just fine.” Uncle Bryan’s phone rang. He pulled it out and stared at it for a moment before tapping it to answer. “Bryan Smith.” He paused. “Yes, that’s me.” His face paled. “Are you sure?” He got shakily to his feet. “Memorial? We’ll be there as fast as we can.” Uncle Bryan looked at Dillon. “Get your stuff. As soon as I e-mail my client that we have to reschedule, we’re on the road. Your mother’s in the hospital.” Dillon’s heart sank. “What happened?” “Something about a drive-by shooting.”

13

DILLON FIDGETED in his seat the whole way to the hospital. It

was impossible for him to sit still while his uncle shattered speed limits between the house and the hospital. If there had been more traffic, the ride would’ve been scary, but being late morning on a weekday, the traffic was relatively light until they hit the center of town. Uncle Bryan gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white as they were forced to slow down. “I’ve urged her to move out of that neighborhood for years. She always claimed it was too expensive to live in other, safer parts of town.” “I just want to know who did it.” Dillon stared blankly out the window. “I wonder where it happened. Did you see anything on the news this morning about a drive-by?” “No, but I think they’ve stopped telling about gang activity unless it’s really bad. There’re worse things they can report on.” Uncle Bryan drove off the highway at their exit and was able to regain some of the speed he’d lost in traffic. “Plus, I think they try and keep a lid on how bad things really are in certain parts of town.” “You’re probably right there. The convenience store holdup would’ve probably not been covered if the two Shanks hadn’t been killed.” For a second Dillon tried to

remember their names. Robbie had mentioned them in chat a couple of weeks earlier. But when Uncle Bryan turned the last corner, the hospital came into view, and any thoughts outside of his mother were pushed away. After they parked and got out of the truck, it was all he could do to hold his pace down to a walk as he hurried at his uncle’s side. Just inside the hospital, they stopped at the information desk and the woman there directed them to critical care. “Critical care?” Dillon asked as they waited for an elevator. “That’s bad, isn’t it?” “We won’t know until we get up there.” Uncle Bryan was tight-lipped and quiet. It made Dillon more worried. After exiting the elevator, they followed the signs to CCU. There were lots of people moving up and down the hall. Some of them looked like regular folks there to visit loved ones, but most were in simple hospital garb in various muted colors. After stopping at another desk, a nurse accompanied them the last few feet to the open room not far from her workstation. A steady beep of some medical machine filled the room as the smell of ammonia and alcohol saturated Dillon’s nose. There were lots of tubes and wires running to the frail form lying in the bed. For a moment Dillon wondered if they really had the right room, but then he stepped closer to the bed and recognized her hair and upper face, above the tube that went into her mouth. “Mom?” His voice came out a bare whisper as he rushed the last couple of feet to grab her hand. There was

no response. Her eyes remained closed, and her hand was limp in his. “How bad is it?” Uncle Bryan asked the nurse. With a slight sigh, she shook her head. “It’s not good. There was a lot of internal damage in her chest. She was in surgery for nearly six hours last night, but they weren’t able to get everything. At this point, she’s not really stable. We don’t even know if she’s going to wake up.” Dillon didn’t look away from his mother. “She has to wake up. She just has to.” Uncle Bryan put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure the doctors and nurses are doing everything they can to make sure that she does.” “I’m staying here until she does.” Dillon glanced around, trying to spot a chair he could drag over and sit in. There wasn’t one. “We have fairly strict visiting hours,” the nurse said. “Right now, you can only stay for fifteen minutes. And not more than two of you in here at a time. She’ll need all the rest she can get if she’s going to recover.” “Fifteen minutes!” Dillon’s heart dropped. “But she’s my mother! I have to be here in case she needs me.” If she

dies, she can’t die alone. I don’t know what I’ll do if she dies. A wave of despair, darker than anything he’d felt before, swept over him. “We can stay in the waiting room,” Uncle Bryan suggested. “We’ll be close in case something happens.” The nurse nodded her agreement. “If we know you’re

out there, we’ll come get you if anything happens.” A loud beeping started outside the room. The nurse looked out. “Stay a few minutes. If you need anything, I’ll be around.” And she hurried out of the room. Tears streamed down Dillon’s cheeks. “She’s not going to be okay, is she?” “We can’t know that.” Uncle Bryan walked around to the other side of the bed. “They’re doing everything they can for her.” “Why would someone gun her down like this?” “It was a drive-by. She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know a whole lot about how the gangs operate, but what you see on TV says that they do things like this to send messages to people. We might learn more after we talk to the police.” Dillon looked across the bed at him. His face was a closed mask of pain. “When are we going to talk to the police?” “I’m going to call them when we go out to the waiting room. If I can’t get any answers, I’ll see about talking to that Detective Graham that we talked to yesterday. Maybe he can help out. Particularly since it’s gang-related.” “We don’t know that for sure.” Dillon tried to remember if he’d ever heard of a drive-by shooting that wasn’t gangrelated. “It’s a good bet, but maybe you’re right, maybe we shouldn’t speculate too much until we know more facts.” Uncle Bryan paced quietly on the other side of the bed. “All we know is Milly was shot and spent six hours in surgery. I’d

like to know why it took them all night and most of the morning to find us. I know the police are busy, but you’d think this would’ve gotten some priority.” He slowly shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets while he paced. “Something else to ask the police.” Dillon stopped watching his uncle move about. It wasn’t helping him stay calm in any way. But seeing the tubes going into his mother’s mouth didn’t help either. She had so many wires and tubes going into her. Even the hand he held had a tube in it; he had to be careful not to bump it. He didn’t want to cause her any pain. Even if she is still asleep, she might feel it and know I was the one that did it. He sniffled and wiped at his tears with the back of his free hand. I need to

stay strong for her. I have to believe everything is going to be fine. I won’t break down now. We’ve always been there for each other. I’ll be here for her now. “Okay, we need to let her rest.” The nurse had returned. “You can come back in about an hour.” A sad look crossed her face. “If there are more members of the family close by, you might want to alert them to her situation… you know… just in case.” There was something in her tone that pushed at the tears Dillon was fighting to hold back. He swallowed hard and glanced at Uncle Bryan. The rest of the family was several hours away by plane, but they would need to be told. Uncle Bryan gestured for Dillon to leave the room with

him. Dillon squeezed his mother’s hand, then leaned over and carefully maneuvered so he didn’t bump any of her medical support devices as he kissed her forehead. “I’m just outside in the waiting room.” He swallowed again and followed Uncle Bryan. Somehow he held everything together until they got into the waiting room, but then he threw his arms around his uncle and the two of them shared a heartbreaking cry.

14

DILLON BRIGHTENED for a moment as a hawk flashed down

past the waiting room window. It made him think of Scott and Return to the Sky. His phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He glanced at it. Scott> Hey, where RU? Dillon pursed his lips and stared at the phone for a moment. “Who is it?” Uncle Bryan looked up from the magazine he’d been staring at. “Scott. What should I tell him?” “I’d advise the truth.” Uncle Bryan set down the magazine. “But that’s up to you. If you don’t want to tell him that your mom’s in here, tell him we had to come into town.” Walking to the window, Dillon hoped to see the hawk again. There was nothing in the sky except a few pigeons. His fingers shook slightly as he keyed in his response. Dillon> Dallas. At the hospital. Mom was shot last

night. As he waited for Scott’s reply, Dillon continued to watch the sky. The large buildings on the horizon blotted out a good portion of blue. He’d never realized how much the

buildings of the city seemed to crowd out everything but themselves. In the few weeks he’d been out in the country where the only crowding was green and growing, he’d already grown accustomed to a brighter world, and with his mother barely clinging to life, he wasn’t sure what to do. His phone vibrated in his hand. Scott> Shot? Do u guys need us there? Dillon looked at Uncle Bryan. “He wants to know if we need them here.” Uncle Bryan hadn’t returned to staring at the magazine. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t say no to a little more support. I guess. But I don’t want to interrupt their day. It’s up to you.” “Me?” Dillon sighed. A flock of pigeons flew up in a great flurry of gray-and-white wings. He’d never had a friend offer to come help him through anything. He wasn’t sure his mother had friends who would do that either. When his grandpa died, it had just been him, his mother, and his uncle on the cross-country ride. The phone vibrated. Scott> Alex and I can be there in a few. Where RU? A glimmer of hope sparkled in Dillon’s chest. The hawk flew up from the ground. It landed on a phone pole. For the first time in hours, the barest hint of a momentary smile tightened Dillon’s lip. Then he told Scott how to find them. WITH FALTERING steps, Dillon returned to the waiting room.

They’d stayed the fifteen minutes the nurse allowed for that hour. His mother still lay in the bed, pale and unmoving.

He’d give anything for her to open her eyes and look at him, or to squeeze his hand and let him know she was still with them. He’d never felt so helpless, not even when Kareem held him still as the other two Shanks robbed the store. For a moment he wondered when the blood would splash on him again. “Dillon.” Unexpectedly, Scott’s arms were around him and a strange, happy warmth filled him. He didn’t say anything at first. It felt good being held, and Dillon just clung to Scott. In the distance he caught bits of words between Uncle Bryan and Alex. Scott turned loose of Dillon first. He looked Dillon over for a moment before he said anything. “I’m sorry.” Dillon nodded. “Why don’t you sit here?” Alex gestured to the center seat in a row of cushioned chairs against the wall across from the vending machines. Seconds later he had Scott on one side of him and Uncle Bryan on the other. A huge part of Dillon wanted to keep hugging Scott, or at least hold his hand. Until their adventure the previous night, it had been years since he’d held anyone’s hand. He swallowed hard. The last hand I

held was Mom’s and now she’s not even holding me back. “Do we know what happened?” Alex asked. “No real details. I’m hoping for a call back from Detective Graham. All I could get out of the couple of people I’ve talked to so far was the time and location and

that doesn’t tell me much, except it was on her way home from work last night.” Alex put an arm across Uncle Bryan’s shoulder. “And what are the doctors saying?” He shook his head. “The nurse doesn’t sound real hopeful. The doctor’s not supposed to be around until later. I’m not her power of attorney, but as her closest adult relative, they should talk to me. If Dillon was a couple of years older, they’d talk to him.” “Well, we’re here for you guys.” Alex’s voice sounded reassuring. “Paul would’ve come too, but we figured we didn’t need too many people clogging the waiting room, and he’s going to take care of all the critters, ours and yours.” “Thanks. I owe you guys.” Uncle Bryan sounded sadder than he had before Alex and Scott got there. Dillon studied his uncle, but couldn’t make out anything on his face except sadness, a feeling he was fairly sure was reflected on his as well. He turned from his uncle and leaned against Scott’s shoulder. For a second tears threatened again, but Dillon took a slow deep breath and forced them back. In the distance an alarm rang. Seconds later several people in scrubs ran past the open waiting room door. Dillon wanted to get up and go see what was happening, but he doubted it involved his mother. Scott put his arm over Dillon’s shoulders and squeezed slightly. “Hey, I’m here for you. So are Bryan and my dads.” “I know.” Dillon’s voice was dry and scratchy as he

spoke. “It’s my mom. I don’t want to lose my mom.” The nurse appeared in the waiting room door. A new splatter of red decorated her blue scrubs. “Mr. Smith?” Uncle Bryan and Dillon stood in strange unison and walked toward her. “What’s happened?” Uncle Bryan asked. A stoic mask covered the nurse’s face as she shook her head. As his head swam, Dillon reached out and found Scott’s hand. Seconds later Scott’s arms were around him and his world imploded into tears.

15

THE PREVIOUS night, the distant firecrackers yanked Dillon

out of a restless sleep. They sounded too much like gunfire. He’d lain awake for hours, but they’d never come closer to Uncle Bryan’s house and eventually he returned to dreams where his mother was still alive and telling him that her death had all just been a bad dream because he thought he might be gay. There was no moonlight shining through the curtains, but the light from the fireworks down near the main road cast momentary bursts of brightness and color. It reminded Dillon that it was the Fourth of July. Nearly two weeks since his mother died. He lay there playing with his knife. The blade gave him a strange feeling of security. Even out in Kerens, he didn’t really feel safe. The Shanks took Mom. I know they did,

even if the police can’t find any real evidence to tie them to the shooting. At least with my knife, if they show up, I have a little bit of a chance to do some damage before they kill me. An overly loud explosion caused him to jump and his finger slipped along the knife’s sharp edge. The pain stung. For the first time in days, he felt something other than fear.

He sucked on his finger and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Shit, that’s deeper than I realized. Dropping the knife on his bed, he glanced around for something to stop the flow of blood. He knew there were some tissues somewhere in the boxes Uncle Bryan and Paul and Alex had brought in from the apartment, but he had no idea where they were. He hurried to the bathroom with his finger still in his mouth. Uncle Bryan was coming down the hall at the same time. “Something wrong?” Dillon shook his head and closed the bathroom door behind him. He hadn’t felt much like talking since she passed. Yanking several pieces of toilet paper off the roll, he wrapped them around his finger and looked through the medicine cabinet for Band-Aids. He didn’t find any. The blood soaked through the tissue fairly quickly. After closing the lid, Dillon sat down on the toilet and pulled off more paper to wrap around his finger. He sat there for several minutes as the blood soaked through the new paper. This

isn’t going to stop easily. Maybe Uncle Bryan has BandAids somewhere else. As Dillon hurried into the living room, Uncle Bryan was just settling into his chair. “Where are the Band-Aids?” Dillon asked, holding a third application of toilet paper around his finger. “Band-Aids?” Uncle Bryan blinked at him. Then his gaze came to rest on Dillon’s hand applying pressure to his

paper-wrapped finger. “Oh God. You cut yourself.” A frantic look colored Uncle Bryan’s features as he surged to his feet. “I think there’s some in the first-aid drawer in the kitchen.” He hurried Dillon to the kitchen. “What happened? How did you do this?” “My knife slipped when the fireworks startled me.” For the first time ever, Uncle Bryan looked at him with a suspicious glint in his eyes. “That big bowie knife of yours?” Then he pulled out a drawer and rummaged through it. Dillon nodded. Uncle Bryan came up with a couple of wrapped BandAids. “I don’t know what happened to the box of them I had. Let’s take a look at it.” He reached for Dillon’s hand. Reluctantly Dillon extended his arm. When Uncle Bryan unwrapped the toilet paper, he blanched. “Is this the first attempt at stopping it?” “No.” “Let’s wash it off.” Uncle Bryan turned on the water in the sink and pulled Dillon toward it. The water stung a bit as it hit the cut. Face still white, Uncle Bryan shook his head. “This is deep. You might need stitches.” “Stitches?” Dillon stared at the cut, which had already poured more blood over his finger, and his blood dripped into the stainless steel sink. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he gripped the marble countertop with his uninjured hand. “A Band-Aid isn’t going to do much for this.” Uncle Bryan grabbed a dish towel and wrapped the finger. “If we

run to the hospital in Corsicana, it will be about half an hour before we get this looked at. Alex might be able to fix it for you. If that’s okay.” “Sure.” Dillon had a sudden flash that Scott might be with his dad when Alex came down. He hadn’t talked to Scott much since the funeral. He just hadn’t felt like talking about anything. He knew it was rude, but the loss of his mother overshadowed everything, and the darkness of that managed to eclipse even the light Scott brought into his life. “You sit down.” Uncle Bryan took his elbow and led Dillon to one of the kitchen chairs before he pulled out his cell phone and called Alex. BY THE time Alex, Paul, and Scott arrived, the nausea had

passed, but Dillon still felt light-headed. Alex shook his head as he walked toward the table. “Gotta be more careful with sharp knives, Dillon.” “The fireworks down the block startled me and it slipped.” Scott came around the table and hugged Dillon from behind. “Those guys shoot off stuff every year. New Year’s too.” He put his mouth next to Dillon’s ear. “I’ve missed you.” Dillon patted Scott’s arm around his chest but didn’t say anything. Part of him wanted to admit he missed Scott too, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to try and make it out of the darkness his mother’s death had left him in, and he knew Scott would try and pull him out of it and into the light.

Do I deserve Scott’s light? If I’d joined the Shanks would Mom still be alive? Am I really responsible for her death? Might they kill Scott too? There was the true depth of his darkness, his fear that he’d been the ultimate cause of his mother’s death. He didn’t know what to do about those feelings and didn’t want to drag Scott down with him. “Okay, you two, let me get a look at Dillon’s hand.” Alex pulled a chair closer as Paul set a backpack on the table. Dillon held his hand out to Alex, who carefully unwrapped the dish towel. His bushy, rusty eyebrows rose. “Dillon, are you a free bleeder?” “Not that I know of.” Dillon tried not to look at the amount of blood that colored the boots, hats, and horseshoes of the dishcloth. “If your blood pressure’s up, that might also cause extra bleeding.” He looked at Paul. “Get me the TAO and the superglue.” “What?” Dillon asked but held his hand still. “TAO, triple antibiotic ointment,” Scott explained. “But superglue?” It sounded really strange. “Superglue is better than stitches in a lot of cases.” Alex accepted the first tube from Paul. “It helps stop the bleeding and acts almost like new skin until the wound has a chance to heal. Luckily this one isn’t too long, but it is fairly deep.” He smeared a glop of ointment into the cut. “Now, you’re going to have to be careful for a few days until this has a chance to heal.” He used the dish towel to wipe across the top of the cut, then applied the superglue. Sticky fire spread through Dillon’s hand and it took all his

willpower to hold still while Alex continued as if he didn’t notice Dillon’s discomfort. “Paul, a midsized Band-Aid please.” Then he had everything wrapped up and the blood stopped. “Okay, young man, you should live. Just be more careful with knives in the future.” Dillon glanced at his finger, now with a flesh-toned bandage on it. “I’ll try.” “Will you guys stay for a bit of cake?” Uncle Bryan asked. “I baked it earlier since Dillon and I weren’t going to do anything else for the holiday. He wasn’t interested after dinner.” His gaze settled on Dillon for a moment, and Dillon shrugged. “Sure, sounds good to me.” Alex handed the tubes back to Paul. “It’ll go well with the burgers we had. You guys missed out on a nice cookout, but we understand.” Dillon stood. “Thanks for patching me up, Alex. I’m still not in the mood for cake.” Not waiting for a response, he shuffled from the kitchen, heading for the hallway and his bedroom. Scott was right behind him. “Hey, wait up.” Dillon slowed. Inwardly he didn’t want to talk but couldn’t think of a polite way of getting out of it, and he didn’t want to hurt Scott’s feelings. It wasn’t Scott’s fault Dillon felt lost and lonely. When the door was closed, Scott hugged Dillon again. Dillon weakly returned the gesture. “Still not doing well?” Scott asked, then maneuvered through the stacks of boxes so he could sit on the bed.

“I guess.” “I’ve heard it helps to talk about it.” Scott patted the bed in a sign that Dillon should join him. “I don’t know if I can. Scott, my mom is gone.” Dillon willed himself to stay strong as he seated himself next to Scott. Scott put his hand on Dillon’s leg. “I know. And believe it or not, I understand.” Disbelief filled Dillon. “How? Your dads are still alive.” “My dads are, but my mom isn’t. You know I’m adopted. But unless Bryan said something, you don’t know how I ended up in the foster care system. My birth parents were both killed in a car accident. I was in kindergarten at the time. They had just dropped me off at school and never came back for me.” “You lost them both at the same time?” Dillon couldn’t help himself; he felt a stronger connection to Scott building with the idea of similar losses. “Yeah. It was hard. They were both only children. My biological father’s parents had died and my mother’s mother was the only living relative I had. She lived in an assisted living facility and couldn’t take me in. I didn’t understand any of it at the time. Alex and Paul explained it to me a few years ago, when they figured I was old enough to understand. At the time, I understood that my parents were dead, but it took months of being in a foster home with strangers before I really grasped that they were never coming to get me. Right after that, about ten years ago, Alex and Paul found me and adopted me.”

“Are you saying you kept thinking your folks were going to come for you even after they were dead? That must’ve been hard.” “I don’t remember a ton of it now. I do remember living in a maze of boxes.” Scott gestured around them. “Like this. I kept thinking that if I didn’t unpack, then when they came for me, it’d be easier to go home.” “That must’ve been really scary. You were what, six?” Dillon put his arm across Scott’s shoulder and hugged him. He felt the warmth he always felt when Scott was there. Scott nodded. “That’s it. And it was. When I came to live with Alex and Paul, that’s when I really started accepting they weren’t coming for me. But even then, particularly when I was upset, I’d still hope they’d show up out of the blue and take me back to the house I grew up in. But I know that’s not going to happen.” Scott swallowed hard. “I don’t have any family now, outside of Alex and Paul, and to be truthful, I couldn’t ask for better parents. They’ve given me almost everything I wanted, and the stuff I didn’t get, I quickly realized I didn’t really need.” “They do act like they love you a lot.” “I’ve never really doubted their love. You need to remember you’re not alone. You’ve still got people who love you.” A heavy pause filled the air. “You’ve got Bryan. I know he wasn’t expecting to be a father, but I can tell he loves you like his own kid.” “I know. He’s always been a substitute father figure for me.” Dillon hugged Scott tightly. Then jumped slightly as more fireworks started down the street. “What the hell?

They’ve been quiet for a while.” “I bet they went and bought more at the stand right before the Kerens city limits.” Scott chuckled and pulled Dillon back into his arms. “I didn’t even think about that.” Dillon leaned his head onto Scott’s shoulder. He finally started to relax after weeks of being depressed and stressed. “Thank you for coming tonight. I’m sorry I’ve been distant.” Scott combed his fingers through Dillon’s hair and a tingle of excitement ran in their wake. “I understand. You just remember, that if you need to talk and don’t feel comfortable talking to Bryan, I’m here for you.” Dillon hugged him tighter. “Thank you. I’ve always been able to talk to Uncle Bryan about nearly anything. That’s one of the really great things about him.” For a moment Dillon’s throat tightened up, and he had to force back tears that threatened to spill out. “I know he’s been hurting too.” “I know he’s been talking to Alex and Paul. They’ve been there for him.” A strange thought hit Dillon. “Is there anything going on between them?” Scott pulled back and stared at Dillon. “Bryan and my dads? I don’t think so. My dads have never said anything about it. Bryan’s just a good friend to them. He’s been around longer than I have.” “Okay. I wasn’t sure. I’m still trying to sort out the whole gay thing around here.” The minute the words left his mouth, Dillon felt awkward. “With them, me, or is there something more?”

“I don’t—” Dillon started, but then someone knocked on the door. “Scott….” Paul’s voice came from the other side. “We’re heading home.” “Out in a second.” Scott glanced at Dillon. It was a soft expression that reminded Dillon of how his mother would look at him when she was about to hug him or kiss him. “We’ll talk more later. You should come down tomorrow if you’re up for getting out. We moved that hawk you guys brought in to a big flight chamber. She’s making great progress.” For a second, after not wanting to deal with Scott a few minutes before, Dillon didn’t want him to go but knew he should. “I’ll try. Maybe getting out will be good for me.” Scott flashed him a dazzling smile. “That’s all I can ask for. If you don’t come down, I’ll either text you or come over here. I don’t think you need to spend so much time alone.” With a parting hug, Scott hurried out the door. Dillon followed him to the front door and said good night to Alex and Paul. He had to assure his uncle that he was going to be fine before he returned to his room. The knife still lay on the bed. Somehow he and Scott had managed to not sit on it. There was just a hint of red along the sharp edge that glistened in the lamp light. Dillon picked up the knife and went into the kitchen to clean it off. When he got back to his room, he cut the tape of the first box he came to. The sharp knife made short work of the rest of the unopened boxes, and he began deciding where he was going to put things in his room.

16

FOR THE first time in more than a week, Dillon awoke before

ten in the morning. He lay for a while in the secluded safety of his bed. Since his mother died, he hadn’t actually had a good night’s sleep. He stretched. If I get up, I have to face

the world. Maybe it’s a good thing. I never would’ve imagined that Scott’s birth parents were killed too, and when he was six. Mom always said I was a survivor. That I had to be if I ever wanted to get out of South Dallas. I guess I’m out of the hood, but do I have it in me to be a survivor like Scott? When he got up, he had to move a couple of the empty boxes that had fallen over in the night. He glanced at the half-full bookshelves. I guess I started last night. After he showered, something else he’d been neglecting for a couple of days, he realized there was enough scruff on his face that he should shave. It wasn’t something he had to do often. The last time was the day of the funeral. Uncle Bryan had insisted, saying it would be more respectful to the memory of his mother if he looked nice as they laid her to rest. As he lathered up his face, he remembered his Christmas present from Uncle Bryan the previous year had been a razor and a lesson on how to use

it. The savory smell of freshly cooked bacon still lingered in the kitchen when he walked in. Uncle Bryan looked up from his tablet and a soft, sad smile crossed his face. “I heard you in the shower and thought you might like some food.” “Thanks.” Dillon started to scoop all the bacon off the plate, then looked at Uncle Bryan. “Have you already eaten?” His uncle gestured to the food. “All yours. How are you feeling today?” “Better. Finger’s still sore.” Dillon carried his plate to the table after grabbing a couple pieces of bread. The butter still occupied the center of the table, an obvious sign that Uncle Bryan had eaten recently. “It probably will be for a few days. So, did I hear you opening boxes last night after Scott and the guys left?” Dillon smeared butter on the bread. “Yeah. I figure it’s time to unpack. Guess I’m staying for a while.” “Unless the judge finds a problem with your mother’s will naming me your guardian for the next couple of years.” Uncle Bryan picked up his coffee cup and took a long drink. “Do you think that’s a possibility? But if that happens, aren’t I too old to go into foster care?” “I honestly don’t know. If you’re worried about that, we can check.” Uncle Bryan sounded tired. He’d sounded tired since the funeral. Biting into the bread, Dillon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We can cross that bridge if we have to,

right?” “Right. So what’s on your schedule today? I really need to get some work done. I’ve fallen further behind than I have been in years.” “Scott wants me to come down and see that hawk we picked up. He said they’ve moved her to a flight pen and she’s doing great.” Uncle Bryan put down the coffee mug. “That’s a good idea. I think Scott cares about you. Alex was telling me that he’s missed you while you’ve been cooped up.” “I’ve missed him too.” I just didn’t realize it until last night. Dillon chewed his bacon and silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by the crispness of the bacon and the occasional tap of Uncle Bryan’s finger on the tablet. Outside a crow cawed. THE HEAT was worse outside than Dillon remembered. By

the time he walked from the house down the street to Scott’s house, his red T-shirt was soaked with sweat. As he walked past the driveway that led to the pond, he looked down it, wishing he could stop and go for a quick dip to cool off. Scott met him on the front porch, almost like he’d been watching for Dillon. “Hey, Dillon. Nice to see you out and about again.” “Thanks.” “So how are you feeling today?” Scott came off the wide porch and quickly closed the distance between them.

Scott’s T-shirt was nearly the same color of red as Dillon’s, but it had the WoW horde symbol on it. Dillon tried not to frown and succeeded. “Uncle Bryan asked me that too. I guess I’m doing a bit better. I got some of my books unpacked.” “That’s cool.” Scott caught Dillon up in his arms. A shiver of excitement passed through Dillon as he hugged Scott back. I guess I need more time with Scott.

He makes me feel good. They embraced for several moments, and then Scott stepped back from Dillon. “Well, come on, I bet you came down to see that hawk. She’s over here.” Dillon fell into step with Scott as he strolled to the flight pens. “I came to see you too. It’s not just about the birds, although they are cool.” “Good.” Scott flashed him a bright smile. It took them a couple of minutes to get to the right pen. There were other hawks in the pen, and it took Dillon several moments to spot the one he’d carried to the center. But then he caught her eyes, and a flash of recognition shot between them. “That’s her.” He pointed to where she stood on the perch near a very dark bird. “Right. Wow, you’re a natural with the birds. That’s good.” “What do you mean?” Dillon didn’t move his gaze from the hawk. She looked so much better than she had when they’d found her on the roadside. When she turned her head to look at something, there was an obvious white

mark on the darkness of her upper beak. “Most people have trouble telling hawks apart,” Scott explained. “If they’re different, like that Harlan’s red-tail in there, the dark one, that’s easy, but your girl, she’s very similar to the other regular-colored ’tails with them.” “I recognized her look. She’s very forceful.” Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s the right word.” “It works. She does have an attitude. A lot of hawks do, but for an injured bird, an attitude is often the difference between getting back into the wild and not.” “And what happens to the ones that can’t go back to the wild?” “Depends. Some we use as educational birds. Like the ones Paul takes to schools and such. But some wouldn’t have a good life, even here. That always ends up being Alex’s decision. But then he’s also the guy who puts down the ones that wouldn’t have a quality life in captivity.” “I’m glad he didn’t have to put down the one I brought in. I like to think she’ll find the sky again.” He paused and looked at the bird. “I think I’m beginning to understand what it’s like to have the world change on you unexpectedly.” The hawk flew across the pen and landed near a larger bird. She landed softly, but still seemed to be favoring her injured foot. “How much longer until that foot is better?” “Alex is the one to ask, but I think when she came in he said two to three months before she’d be back in the wild. Once he thinks she’s ready, he’ll move her to a more enclosed pen and make sure that she can catch prey. If she

can do that, she’ll be ready to go.” Dillon brightened a bit more. “That will be nice. I’ll have to make sure to come down here for that.” “Yes, you will.” Scott turned from the hawks. “Now that we’ve seen her, what do you want to do?” Dillon paused for a moment. “If I’d been thinking and brought my laptop, we could play WoW for a bit. Or, if your dads don’t need you around here for a while, we could go back to the house and get some more boxes emptied.” “Emptying boxes is important. Are you sure you want me there helping?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” Dillon gifted Scott with the first full smile he’d managed in weeks. “You’re helping me feel better, just having you around. If nothing else, you can sit and talk to me while I go through things.” “Okay. Let’s go get some boxes emptied, then.” Scott walked toward the gate. “I need to let Alex know where I’m going.” “Sure.” Dillon followed him into the house, then stood in the neat and functional living room while Scott hurried off. At

least he doesn’t appear to be upset at me withdrawing for a couple of weeks. Maybe he does care about me. I know he’s making me feel safe and happy. Dillon stared at a picture of Scott and his dads that had obviously been taken at Six Flags. The picture perfectly captured their happy family. He could easily envision himself there with Scott, both looking just as happy. For a second, he tried to see a girl, any girl in the picture with him

and failed. Does that mean that I really am gay? I hope,

wherever Mom is, she can understand that if I am gay, it’s who I am and be happy for me. Scott came bouncing back into the room with his backpack. “I grabbed my laptop, just in case we get bored unboxing and want to game for a while.” “Sounds like a plan.” Dillon followed him to the door and the heat hit him again when he opened it, but with Scott at his side, it didn’t feel so bad.

17

DILLON PAUSED and looked at his room. After several days

of work, he’d unloaded the boxes they brought from the apartment. The room had become an odd mix of his stuff, things his mother had bought over the years, and Uncle Bryan’s furniture. Most of the chairs, couches, and shelves from the apartment had been old and secondhand when acquired, and the stuff in Kerens had been higher quality and new when Uncle Bryan bought it. Dillon didn’t have any sentimental attachments to anything other than a few dishes and pictures, so they’d opted to leave a lot of things until they could arrange for Goodwill to send someone to do a pickup. “Wow, no boxes.” Scott appeared in the doorway. “Yeah, cool, huh?” Dillon gestured for him to come in. “So what are we doing today?” “What are you up for?” Scott plopped down on the bed. “Just about anything. It feels good to get unpacked, but it also kinda cements it in my mind that this is home now.” Dillon picked up a plastic elephant that his mother bought him the first time they went to the zoo. The paint on the eyes and ears had mostly rubbed away with his frequent handling over the years. He’d always been really careful to never take it or some of his other toys out of the house. The

fact that they were in Uncle Bryan’s house hit him the hardest when he’d unpacked them. “You’re going to be a country boy for real. Do you know how to ride a horse?” Dillon put the elephant back on the shelf, where it led a small herd of other animals he’d slowly acquired over his younger years. “I can sit on a saddle and steer with the reins, if that’s what you mean. Anything much beyond a walk gets a little scary.” Scott laughed and hauled himself off the bed. “Come on.” He grabbed Dillon’s hand and pulled him toward the hallway. “Bryan asked me to spend some time riding his horses this summer so they get some exercise. I’ve been busy with other things, but this is a good opportunity. There’s nothing going on this afternoon.” Scott paused and grabbed a baseball cap off the hook near the back door and set it on Dillon’s head. “What about afternoon feedings?” Dillon adjusted the hat but didn’t resist as Scott hauled him out of the house. “They can happen anytime before sundown. Everyone will be fine if we go take a little ride.” Scott let go of Dillon’s hand and grabbed a backpack and cowboy hat that sat on the back porch. “Do you have something planned?” Dillon continued down the steps. Scott jumped off the porch, landing next to Dillon with a playful smile. “Maybe. Let’s get Rusty and Dusty saddled up.” Dillon ended up on Dusty, a mild-mannered buckskin

gelding, while Scott rode Rusty, the more spirited blood bay. They set out along the dirt road that headed to the paved road that ran back to the highway. The sun was warm, and before they reached the pavement, Dillon was again coated in sweat. As bright as it was, he appreciated the shade of the hat’s bill on his face. “So where are we going?” Dillon shifted in his saddle, clutching the horn to help alleviate his fear of falling off Dusty’s broad back. Scott paused them when they reached pavement. “Has Bryan taken you to the lake yet?” He looked up and down the road before motioning Dillon to move Dusty across the street. “There’s a lake?” As they crossed the pavement, the tone of the horse’s hooves changed, ringing slightly. “Reservoir, actually.” Scott pulled back on the reins so Dusty walked at Rusty’s side. “Richland Chambers Reservoir. It’s just down the road.” “Nope, never heard of it.” “It’s huge. I’ve got some friends from school who sometimes go out on their parent’s boats, and last summer I went a couple of times. We went all over the lake. It was really cool. But you have to be careful; there’s a lot of submerged trees.” Dillon thought about that for a moment. “Submerged trees? In a lake?” “Most of the lakes around here aren’t natural. They’re man-made. Folks put up dams and flood areas to make them. But they have a lot of trees, and in some cases,

fences, houses, and barns.” “That doesn’t sound right.” Dillon tried to understand why anyone would flood an area just to make a lake. “Didn’t say it was right. But it’s been done years ago.” Ahead of them a bird flew across the road. It had a long, dark gray tail, and it flew up and seemed to hover for a moment. As it hovered the long tail opened up and looked like two long blades. Then it dove at something, just above the tall grasses in the field next to the dirt road. Dillon kept his gaze on the bird as it flew up onto a wooden fence post and swallowed a large insect. “What is that?” He pointed at the bird. Scott turned in his saddle. “Oh, that. It’s a scissor-tailed flycatcher. They’re really cool. Almost like kestrels, they seem to float along, then dive in and get bugs.” “Do you ever wish you could fly?” Dillon stared down the road as another flycatcher swooped across their path. “All the time.” A soft, pleasant chuckle rumbled from Scott. “I think it’s a common human wish, but when you work with birds, it becomes a little more strongly ingrained in you.” “Could be. I never really thought about it until recently. But lately, I seem to think about it all the time. It would be so nice to get away from the ground and most people around here. To see the world from a whole new perspective.” “Exactly. Now don’t let too many kids at school hear you saying things like that. They’ll be offering you all sorts of drugs and stuff to help you fly.” Dillon shuddered. “No, thank you. I’ve seen how

messed up some of the kids in school get from that shit. I was hoping by living out here, I might be able to get away from it.” And the gangs, but I guess they’re everywhere. “We’re between Dallas and the Mexican border, and a lot of stuff comes through here, mostly up I-35, I-45, and Highway 287. But I doubt it’s as bad as it must be in the city.” A compassionate look passed over Scott’s handsome face. “Don’t worry, I’ll steer you away from the troublemakers. We can also work on bulking you out a bit, that’ll help. The druggies at school don’t like messing with folks they think can whup them in a good fight.” “But I don’t fight.” “You don’t have to. You just have to look like you could. It’s a lot like being an owl. Owls can and will kill just about anything, but not many things mess with them, just because of the way they look. You look tough and folks leave you alone.” “I guess so.” I wonder if folks don’t mess with Kareem

because he’s bigger and just looks meaner than everyone else. But he’s always pushing people around. It’s more than just being bigger. “We’ve got a small gym in the basement. If you want, you can start joining me in my workouts.” Dillon looked at Scott. “I didn’t realize that you work out.” Scott held up his cowboy hat and pulled off his T-shirt. It took him a little contorting to do it without taking off his backpack too, but he managed. The moonlight at the pond

hadn’t done justice to his sculpted body. “I didn’t get this body by just handling birds. I spend half an hour or longer most days down there. You cut into my workout time a bit, but that’s okay. I don’t think a little cutting down is going to impact me too much.” “You’ve never mentioned if you play sports. I bet they want you on all the teams.” “It’s a small school… they do.” Scott tucked his shirt so it hung out of his right front jeans pocket. “I played football a couple of years ago, but my dads decided they don’t like the possibility of me getting a concussion or anything major broken, so we decided I wouldn’t participate anymore.” “Mom never wanted me to get hurt either. Most kids’ folks don’t seem to really care, as long as their kid is a sports star.” Even though he tried to keep his eyes focused between Dusty’s slightly curved ears, Dillon kept finding his gaze drifting back to Scott’s bare torso. I’ve never looked

at a girl like this before, not even at the pool last summer when all the pretty girls were trying to spend time with Robbie. I keep wondering if I’m really drawn to Scott, and everything keeps screaming at me, yes! “My dads would rather me be a doctor than a player. Schoolwork comes first when school’s in session. It gets maddening sometimes, particularly when the other kids are going to Corsicana or Athens for events and I’ve got to come home and make sure I keep my grades up, but in the long run, it’ll pay off.” “I hope so. Mom was always more worried about the

gangs getting their hooks in me than me keeping up my grades. But she did want me to do good and get out of the hood.” “She loved you.” Scott reached across the small distance between the horses and squeezed Dillon’s shoulder. “Don’t ever forget that. And hey, you’re out of the hood now. It’s probably not the way she wanted, but you’re out.” A sad lump rose in Dillon’s throat, and he swallowed. “I guess you’re right.” They paused as the road they were on teed into another dirt road. Scott angled them to the left. “So how comfortable are you on Dusty?” A wicked gleam sparkled in Scott’s brown eyes. “He’s being fairly easy on me.” “Good.” Scott kicked Rusty in the ribs and grabbed his cowboy hat. “Yee-haw!” The blood bay horse shot forward in a cloud of dust. Dusty quickly moved from a gentle walk to a gallop in Rusty’s wake. Dillon gripped the saddle horn harder and held on for dear life as the horse sped down the road. The wild ride didn’t last very long as they topped a rise and the blue vista of the lake spread out ahead of them. The road turned from dirt to pavement right before a long bridge that spanned the lake. At the pavement Scott slowed to a walk and angled Rusty off the road to walk sedately down the entrance to a small parking lot with a couple of trucks parked near a boat ramp. Dillon was out of breath as he and Dusty caught up with

Scott and Rusty. “You couldn’t give a guy a warning?” he huffed. Scott looked over his broad shoulder with the same playful look in his eyes. “You kept your seat. I would’ve stopped if you fell off. It’s cool to ride a horse at a gallop for a few minutes, don’t you think?” As his heart slowed to its normal pace, Dillon had to agree. “I guess. Okay, yeah, it was cool, after it stopped being scary.” “I think the scary part can be really cool the first few times. Then the scary goes away, and it’s just cool.” Scott steered them out the north side of the parking lot, down a narrow uneven trail. “We’re almost there.”

18

AN ARM of the lake pushed toward the east, and the trail

followed it around. They rode as the lake narrowed, eventually to the point that they could easily see across the water, and the open space of the main body of water was out of sight. Scott reined in and brought Rusty to a stop. Dillon followed suit. When he mirrored Scott’s dismount, Dillon’s legs wobbled under him, and he held on to the saddle for a moment as his blood returned to its normal course and he found he could stand easier. By the time he felt like he could walk, Scott was at his side. “Let’s tie the horses to this tree. There’s a bit of grass they can reach. Before we head back, we’ll let them get a drink.” “Why not now?” “Not so soon after a run. Give them a couple of minutes to cool down.” Scott pulled the backpack off and opened it. He pulled out what looked to be a couple of pairs of shorts and tossed one to Dillon. “Here, I wasn’t sure if you had a bathing suit or not, and we’re about the same size.” “We’re going to use clothes when swimming this time?” Dillon looked at the tag in the swimwear; it was the right size. “It’s daylight, and we never know if someone’s going to

come by or not.” Scott started to undo his jeans. A rush of self-consciousness washed over Dillon. When they’d been at the pond, it had been night. Scott’s right, someone might see us. He moved to put the horses between him and the lake. There were a few heavy bushes on the far side of them too. “I’m heading in!” Scott shouted right before a loud splash came from his direction. Dillon hurriedly changed. On his way to the lakeside, he spotted Scott’s clothes lying on top of the backpack, and he dropped his there too. The lake water was cooler than the pond had been weeks before. There was also a slight fishy smell to it. Slick rocks covered the lake bottom, forcing Dillon to walk gingerly out to where Scott’s head bobbed just above the gentle waves. Right before he reached Scott, the lake bottom dropped sharply, and Dillon was forced to swim. He sputtered water at Scott. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” “Yeah, some of the drop-offs around here are a bit unexpected.” Scott swam closer to Dillon. “It definitely gets deeper than the pond does.” Dillon dropped below the surface, letting the murky water cover his head. He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of his face. Slight movement in the water right in front of him drew his attention. That must be Scott. He swam that direction and was soon sure of his deduction. He grabbed Scott’s waist and yanked him down, then

swam back to the air. Scott blew water at Dillon as he surfaced. “What’d you do that for?” “Getting back for the galloping.” Dillon gave him a wicked grin. “I think we’re even.” “Really?” Scott lunged at him, caught him around the chest, and pushed him under water. They rolled together for a minute, before Dillon pushed away from Scott and swam for the surface. He laughed and sputtered as he made it to the air. Seconds later Scott caught his leg, and Dillon drank a mouthful of lake water as he got yanked back down. They swam and played until Dillon’s arms and chest hurt, the latter as much from laughing and shouting as swimming. After they dried off, Scott spread a large beach towel with Tweety Bird on it over a spot near the water’s edge that was clear of large rocks. They took a moment and let the horses get a drink before they settled on the towel. The sun blazed down on them, but with a soft breeze blowing off the water, it didn’t feel extremely hot. Dillon was more at ease than he could remember ever being. He looked at Scott reclining on the blanket next to him. I’m relaxed and happy because of Scott. I don’t know

what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been here. I’d probably still be in my room surrounded by boxes full of stuff and not out trying to keep going with my life. I know Mom would want me to keep living. “What are you thinking?” Scott asked.

“How nice it is to be out here and not in my room.” “Yeah, being outside is definitely an improvement to inside.” Scott paused and stared into Dillon’s eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?” Heat that had nothing to do with the sun rose in Dillon’s face. “No.” “Well, you are. You have a nice strong face, gorgeous eyes, and your skin. I’ve never met anyone with skin that’s so close to the color of caramel.” He reached out a hand toward Dillon, but stopped just inches from his chest. “Do you mind if I touch you?” Thoughts zinged through Dillon’s head. Do I mind? No

I don’t mind. Can I touch you? If you touch me and I like it as much as I like your hugs, then maybe I really am gay. If I don’t like it, what do I say? “No.” A long slow breath escaped him. “I don’t mind.” Warm tingles erupted on his chest as Scott’s fingertips traced along the slight definition he had in his chest. Part of him wanted to lie back on the towel and just let Scott explore him, but a larger part wanted to feel Scott’s body.

This is different than hugging. This is more intimate. His fingers feel really good on me. “Can I touch you?” Dillon forced the whispered question out. “Please.” Scott breathed huskily. It was all Dillon could do to not let his hands shake as he touched Scott’s chest. It was harder than he expected, but silky soft with a thin sheen of sweat on it. Dillon’s heart

pounded, and for a moment, he felt Scott’s pulse too. “Your heart’s really working hard.” Scott had his hand flat on the center of Dillon’s chest. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” Dillon shook his head. “No. Not with a guy or a girl.” “If anything gets too intense, we can stop.” Scott moved his hand over Dillon’s nipple, causing a more intense wave of pleasurable energy to shoot through him. “I’ve played around with a couple of the boys at school, but afterward they decided they liked girls better than me.” There was a slight hint of bitterness in Scott’s voice. “You hold my attention like no girl ever has.” Dillon rubbed his hand over Scott’s nipple, hoping that the sensation he felt would be like what Dillon had. He was a little surprised by the hard, almost rubbery feel of Scott’s nipple and by the two small dark hairs there. “I don’t know for sure if I’m gay or bi, but you’re the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen.” The more Dillon talked, the more relaxed he got and the easier the words came out. Scott grinned at him. “Good. I think you’re sexy too.” He leaned closer to Dillon. “Can I kiss you?” The words were low and husky. “Please.” Dillon closed the last inch or so that separated them. For a moment it was like his whole body was on fire as their lips touched. The smell of lake water mingled with the clean smell of Scott that he was used to when they hugged, but there was more. Scott wrapped an arm around Dillon’s shoulder and pulled them closer together. Dillon hugged

him back as their kiss lengthened. When Scott plunged his tongue into Dillon’s mouth, it was like a fleshy molten Popsicle. Dillon gasped, then pushed his own tongue into Scott’s mouth. Scott’s teeth raked across his tongue as he explored inside. The sound of a small motor interrupted them. Scott broke their kiss and looked toward the lake. “Shit, there’s a boat heading this way.” He moved a few inches away from Dillon and frowned. “If either one of us was a girl, we wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” “I know. But I’m happy that you aren’t a girl. That felt amazing.” “Yeah, it did. If he stops over here and fishes, we might as well be on our way.” “You’re turning a little red anyway.” Dillon pointed at Scott’s bare shoulder. “Plus we’ve got to feed critters when we get back.” “You don’t have to help me.” Scott started to get up. Dillon caught his hand and pulled him down for a parting kiss. “I want to help.” “Thanks,” Scott whispered as their lips parted. “Now, let’s at least get our jeans on before that boat gets too close. He’s trolling slowly, but it won’t take him too long.” His gaze passed over Dillon as he stood. Their damp bathing suits didn’t leave much to either’s imagination. Dillon knew he was excited and for the first time in his life, it didn’t make him blush. “I think you really enjoyed that.” Scott nodded at

Dillon’s crotch. “You too.” Dillon walked toward the pile of clothes on the backpacks. He grabbed his jeans but didn’t head behind the horses. He just turned his back to the lake as he yanked down his swimsuit. “See, even your cock is nice.” Scott also yanked down his suit. “Maybe one of these days, if you want, I can show you how to make it feel really good.” Dillon pulled on his black cotton underwear. “Only if you show me how to make you feel good too.” He tried to not stare at Scott’s exposed hard dick in its thick nest of brown hair. “Plan.” Scott grabbed his clothes, and they both managed to get their jeans on before the boat slowly got close enough that they could easily make out the overweight man steering it. They finished getting dressed and mounted the horses as the man stopped the boat and cast his fishing line into the water where they’d been swimming. DILLON TRIED to find a comfortable position in the saddle as

they rode toward home. “Scott, can I ask you a question?” “If it’s when did I know I was gay, I’ve kind of always known. Having Alex and Paul around helped me realize it easier.” “No, not that. You asked permission each time before we did anything. Why did you do that?” “It’s only polite. I think more relationships, or even brief

encounters, would go better if folks asked first. It’s respectful, don’t you think?” Dillon paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I think it is. Where did you learn that?” “Believe it or not, school. Kerens doesn’t teach the abstinence nonsense some of the other schools teach. But they make a big deal about getting permission before you do anything. I talked to my dads about it, and they agreed, especially since I’m gay. If I don’t ask permission and there’s a misunderstanding about someone’s intentions, it might not end well.” He gave Dillon a long searching look. “I wasn’t completely sure that you would be receptive. I figured you would, after our hugs and hand-holding, but for anything more, I wanted to be sure. I also didn’t want to scare you off.” “I don’t think you can scare me off now, but thanks for worrying about how I would react.” Dillon reached across the open space between them and patted Scott’s leg. “I really appreciate it.” I don’t think I have any doubts now. I

want to explore everything Scott can teach me. Just kissing made me feel so great. I hope his dads and Uncle Bryan will be understanding. A happy silence settled over them as they rode along the dirt road toward the house. Dillon wished he could’ve kept his hand on Scott’s leg the whole time, but the horses didn’t cooperate, and they kept moving farther away, then closer. But it didn’t matter. The warm giddy feeling that welled up in Dillon flowed through him.

19

“UNCLE BRYAN, I have a question.” Dillon sat at the table and

looked at his dinner plate. “Okay, shoot.” Uncle Bryan carried a plate of steaks from the counter to the table. “We said a couple of weeks ago that we were going to be open and honest with each other, right?” “Right.” “Good.” Dillon stabbed a steak and hauled it to his plate. After the afternoon ride, swim, then chores when they got home, he was hungry. He swallowed and his heart pounded nearly as hard as when Scott had kissed him. “So would it be okay for Scott and me to have sex here?” The bottle of steak sauce in Uncle Bryan’s hand crashed to the tile floor, shattering and spilling strongsmelling, thick sauce across the tan tile. “Shit.” Uncle Bryan dashed to the sink and grabbed a towel. Dillon surged out of his seat and began delicately picking up the pieces of the broken bottle. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” Uncle Bryan knelt down carefully and started swabbing up the heavy brown mess. “I guess I should expect questions like that. I just wasn’t expecting them so soon. That’s what I get for saying I wanted us to be honest with

each other.” He paused with sauce dripping from the towel back down on the floor and stared at Dillon. “Are you sure about this?” Then he glanced down and frantically cleaned up the rest of the mess. Dillon carried the bottle shards to the trash. “I think so. We kissed today. It was incredible.” “And you think that you’re ready to move right from kissing to sex?” Uncle Bryan took the towel full of sauce and rinsed it in the sink. “Maybe not right from.” Dillon returned to his chair. “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone who wasn’t family before. I know Scott makes me feel… great and awesome just don’t seem to do it justice. There’s so much more to it than words can describe.” Uncle Bryan walked into the pantry and came out with a new bottle of steak sauce. “With as much as you read and you’re at a loss for words, this must be serious.” Uncle Bryan took his seat. “I’m glad that you and Scott are exploring things. I’m really thrilled that you and I can talk about stuff like this. As long as you are both sure this is what you want to do, I’d much rather have you doing it somewhere I know where you are than out in some bushes somewhere that might get you into trouble or worse. A couple of things.” Dillon cut his steak. “What things?” “First, if I’m home, be conscious of your noise level. The walls of this house aren’t that thick.” Nodding, Dillon swallowed his bite. “Okay. And?” “Make sure it’s okay with Alex and Paul. I doubt they’ll

have a problem with it. It’s not like either one of you can get pregnant. I think they’ll feel the same way I do. Better at home than out and about.” “I don’t know if Scott’s planning on talking to them or not. He says he’s fooled around with some of the guys from school. So he has some experience.” Uncle Bryan poured steak sauce onto his plate. “That’s probably good. I know that sounds weird, but one member of a couple having a little experience will make it easier. Two virgins always make for an awkward and often painful situation. Depending on what you do, it’s hard to avoid a little pain, but minimizing it makes it easier to get to the pleasurable parts.” Dillon paused with his knife poised to cut another piece of steak. “You know, Uncle Bryan, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about your youthful adventures. I appreciate us being open and all, but we’re getting TMI. If you know what I mean?” Uncle Bryan nodded vigorously. “Thank you. Yeah, I think you’re right there. Anytime I start wandering off on tangents you’re not comfortable with, just let me know. This whole situation, us being closer family than we have been, is going to take some getting used to for both of us, I think.” “Right. But I’m glad we can talk and be buddies. That makes everything easier.” He got quiet as the steak in his mouth lost its flavor. “Mom and I used to be buddies.” He swallowed the steak, and it did little to push down the sad lump that was rising. “Sometimes she was more my buddy than my mother. That’s why I don’t understand her not

believing me.” He put his fork on his plate and stared at his meal. It wasn’t the first time a happy moment had turned on him partway through. The memories of his mother were still so recent, and the wound her death left was still raw. “She was both our buddies.” Uncle Bryan reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be a while before things get easy for us. It’s okay.” Dillon squeezed his uncle’s hand back, thankful for the tactile contact that helped ground him back in the present. He let out a long slow breath. “Thanks for understanding.” “We both lost her.” It was several minutes before they continued eating, and then it was in a haunted silence. Like he did when memories of his mom hit, Dillon expected her to show up and be there with them. There was just the emptiness where she should’ve been. “I take it Dusty and Rusty did okay for you guys today?” Uncle Bryan broke the silence first. Dillon nodded, thankful for a subject that his mother had nothing to do with. She didn’t like animals and had never understood his or Uncle Bryan’s interest in them. “They did fine. I think it’s going to take me a while to get totally comfortable with them, or maybe it’s just the saddle. My butt’s sore tonight.” “So Rusty didn’t give Scott any trouble? He can be a bit of a handful at times.” “Scott seemed to get along with Rusty just fine. Dusty was mellow, or at least I thought he was.” “If Dusty gets any more mellow, he’s going to lay down

in the field and never get up again, but expect us to bring him his grain and hay. I think he would make a good kid’s horse, but you’re the youngest one around here.” “I’ll try and be gentle with him while I get everything figured out. Scott said you were wanting the horses ridden more.” “Right. I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to ride them like I used to. You guys feel free to ride anytime you want to, just so long as you aren’t neglecting chores either here or down at Scott’s. I know Alex and Paul rely on him to get a lot done around their place.” Dillon finished his dinner and laid his fork and knife on his plate. “Don’t worry. We’ll stay on top of things.” “And speaking of staying on top of things. I’ve got a business meeting tomorrow. It’s a Skype meeting, but I’ll be busy all afternoon. I need you to run into the apartment and meet the Goodwill guys who are picking up the furniture. If you’re not up for it, I understand and will see about rescheduling.” The idea of going to the apartment by himself filled Dillon with dread. Then a thought struck him. “Let me see if Scott can go with me. I don’t want to go alone, but we need to finish that up. Right?” “Right.”

20

DILLON’S HAND shook slightly as he slipped the key into the

lock of the old apartment. Other than Scott being with him, it felt like he was coming home after school, and his mother would be there shortly with whatever take-out dinner she’d decided to pick up for them. The light streaming in through the partially closed blinds was enough to show that there wasn’t much left in the place. All the pictures and mementos were gone, in many cases leaving lighter spots on the walls where the items had protected the paint from all the nicotine in his mother’s cigarettes. There were spots in the carpet that matched the walls, where heavy furniture hadn’t been moved in years. “So how long before the Goodwill folks are supposed to show up?” Scott asked as he closed the door. “We have a window of time.” Dillon started to sit in the recliner, then decided it was too familiar. It was where his mother liked to sit. He opted for the couch instead. “During the next couple of hours.” Scott sat next to him. “What did you want to do while we wait?” Dillon ran a tentative hand down Scott’s arm, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Sorry, but I don’t feel like making out or anything. This was Mom’s place. I don’t think

she’d approve.” “I understand.” Scott patted his hand and offered up a soft, knowing smile. A sharp knock sounded strange in the nearly empty apartment. Dillon stood. “That was quick.” He hurried to the door. Robbie was standing there. “Hey, Dillon.” “Hey, Robbie.” Dillon struggled to find words. Suddenly seeing Robbie as opposed to just chatting with him online, he felt awkward. Robbie was a part of his old life. “You said in chat last night you were coming into town today to finish cleaning out the apartment. I figured I could stop by and lend a hand. Maybe after, we can grab a burger or something.” He stared past Dillon, and his face hardened slightly. “You must be Robbie.” Scott appeared around Dillon’s side and offered his hand. “I’m Scott Bradley.” “Robbie Collins, nice to meet you.” Robbie returned Scott’s handshake. There was a coldness in his voice that Dillon hadn’t heard before. Dillon gestured for them to have a seat. “I was just telling Scott I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the guys from Goodwill get here. All that’s left is the furniture that Uncle Bryan and I decided not to take, or that he didn’t have room for.” Or substandard items Uncle Bryan hadn’t

wanted cluttering up his house, and I wasn’t attached to. “So you’re just going to sit around and wait for them?” Robbie settled in the recliner while Dillon and Scott

returned to the couch. Robbie raised a sun-bleached blond eyebrow as he watched them sit closer than two guys normally did, even though they weren’t touching. For a second, under the hard gaze, Dillon was tempted to get up and move to the other end of the couch, but he liked being close to Scott, especially with the waves of stress and sorrow that kept washing through him from being in his old home. “That’s the plan.” Dillon decided to stay where we was. Not move closer to Scott, or farther away. If Robbie doesn’t

like it, he’d better work up the balls to say something, or just keep quiet. He’s acting jealous. Maybe he has been wanting more out of me than just friendship. “Well, it’s been a while since I saw you. Even if we do chat every night.” Robbie raised the footrest and started looking like he lived in the nearly vacant place. “I can tell you’ve been working at the pool at lot,” Dillon said. “Your summer tan is darker than it was last year.” “Almost the same color as Dillon,” Scott said. “I’ve been getting a lot of compliments on it. Sometimes I swear people get into trouble at the pool just so I have to dive in and rescue them.” There was a competitive, gloating tone in Robbie’s voice that Dillon had never noticed before. “I don’t mind some of them. The supervisor said something the other day about me having more rescues this month than the other lifeguards, and he wanted to make sure that I wasn’t trying to make the others look bad.”

“I doubt you were trying.” Scott stretched his arm out across the back of the couch. It didn’t touch Dillon, but Robbie narrowed his eyes at them. Robbie put the footrest down with a hard slam that stirred up a bunch of cigarette-smelling dust. “Is there something going on that you haven’t bothered to tell me about?” He glared from Scott to Dillon. “What kind of something?” Dillon asked around the rising knot of fear in his throat. “Oh, come on, Dillon. I’ve known you for several years. There’s something different about you, and I think Scott has something to do with it.” Dillon wanted to look at Scott; touching would have been even better, but he kept his attention on his friend. “Robbie, my mother died recently. Yeah, there’s been changes in me. Scott’s been there for me to talk to and work things through with.” Robbie straightened in the chair as if he wanted to say something, then slouched back. “That’s what I was afraid of. Dillon, I always wanted to be your first. I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized what I saw in you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think you even realized that you’re the hottest guy in school.” “I had begun to wonder what you really wanted from me.” Robbie’s defeated body language encouraged Dillon and gave him an inner strength. “So you’re gay. I guess I would’ve been a little surprised during school, but now, I’m not surprised at all. It’s been that kind of summer.” “And it’s all because of Scott?”

Dillon shook his head slowly. He still wanted to reach for Scott, or look at him, but didn’t feel that it would’ve been fair to Robbie if he did that. “Not all because of Scott. He’s helped me come to terms with things, as has my uncle. But losing Mom almost derailed me, and Scott helped pull me out of it. Without Scott, I’d still be sitting in my room trying to decide if life was still worth living.” Scott touched Dillon’s lower back and a bolt of warm, pleasant energy flowed into Dillon. But he still didn’t look at Scott. “And maybe if you’d been here instead of Kerens, it might’ve been me.” Robbie stared at his hands, folded in his lap. “I’d been hoping that we might’ve connected this summer. But now, I can see I have no chance.” Dillon started to rise from the couch to walk to Robbie when another knock came from the door. “That must be the Goodwill guys.” He stopped next to the recliner and touched Robbie’s shoulder. “Let’s talk about this some more after these guys get done. We can go get a burger.” Robbie shrugged. “I don’t know.” The knock came again. “Coming!” Dillon shouted as he turned from Robbie and finished walking to the door. It hurt him to see Robbie torn up about his developing feelings for Scott. He didn’t like causing anyone pain. He made it to the door and turned the knob to open it. The door slammed back and caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around and flinging him into the wall. Dillon blinked and turned toward the open doorway. “What the

hell?” Kareem Hassan stood there glaring at him.

21

“WHAT ARE you doing here, Kareem?” Dillon rubbed his

shoulder. “Dill, it’s about time you came back to the hood.” Kareem took a couple of steps into the apartment. “Do you really think it’s smart hiding out in the sticks? That little bit of blood last month scared you that much?” Staring up at the taller boy, Dillon tried to square his shoulders and look meaner than he felt. “A little bit of blood? Two guys died. Yeah, it scared me!” I wish Scott

and I had time to work out a lot. Maybe if I were bigger he might back down. What the hell does he want? Kareem laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “They were weak. But then you understand weak, don’t you?” Dillon continued to stare up at Kareem. “I have no idea what you’re on about. Just leave, Kareem. The Goodwill guys will be here in a few minutes and—” “Not until I’m done with you, they won’t be.” He sneered. A sudden wave of fear shot through Dillon. His proud front faltered. “What does that mean?” “The pickup guy for Goodwill is a Shank.” Kareem slammed the door shut. “When I heard where he was coming, I knew there was a chance that you’d be here. I got

lucky, and it’s just you and a couple of friends. Isn’t that right, Robbie?” Robbie got up from the recliner. “Kareem, why don’t you just go? There’s three of us and one of you. Even if you are bigger than any of us, we outnumber you. If you brought the gang along, they’re outside. We can still get in a few blows before they come through the door.” Scott appeared on Dillon’s other side. “Go on, and if you’re lucky, you won’t get hurt.” Kareem’s cold, brown gaze swept over the three of them. It gave Dillon a shiver. “Yeah, cowboy”—he made the word sound like an insult—“I’m not really afraid of you or these other two. I run the recruitment branch of the Shanks. I’m one of the toughest mofos in this hood. You’re some sad little hick that Dill brought along, and I know Robbie ain’t got nothing in him but a bit o’ show.” Robbie bristled. “Kareem, you still haven’t gotten to why you’re here.” “Dill and I got unfinished business. You two go on and do something creative. Maybe they still have a bed in here you can use. Dill’s mama ain’t going to mind.” “Get out!” Dillon shouted. “I don’t have anything to discuss with you. We never had any business.” Kareem folded his arms, which looked even bigger than they had at school. “You’re wrong there. The Shanks are the only family you’ve got left in the hood. We want to make sure that you’re safe.” “I’m not a Shank, and I never will be!”

“You were born to it. Your father started the Shanks.” Dillon stepped away from Kareem and bumped into Scott’s comforting strength. “My father was a gang member, but he didn’t start the Shanks.” How could Mom

have kept that from me? That’s why she freaked out so badly and sent me to Uncle Bryan. “Your mama never told you, did she? She said he was killed, but she didn’t tell you that he was running the Shanks when it happened. Dill, you’re gang royalty. You’ve always had a place with us. It’s time for you to come home.” “No!” Dillon stepped closer to Kareem. “I won’t be in the Shanks! Go find your prince somewhere else!” Behind him Scott and Robbie moved with him, their steps echoed on the cheap linoleum. I hope we can get him out of here. “We’re not looking for another prince right now. You don’t have any more family in Dallas. I checked. I know you’ve been out in the sticks. Figure that’s where you picked up cowboy here. The Shanks are in your blood. There’s nothing you can do about it. You were born as one of us.” Dillon shoved Kareem in the chest. “Get out of here!” The big gangbanger wobbled back a couple steps, then stopped. “You just don’t get it, do you, Dill? This isn’t open for discussion. You’re coming with me, even if I have to knock you out and carry you to the moving van that’s waiting for your ratty-ass furniture. If I have to do that, I’ll start by blowing these two away.” He started to reach behind him.

Gun! Shit, he’s got a gun! Dillon shoved Kareem again. This time he staggered back into the door. The gun went off. The sound was deafening. A strange smell of burned flesh came from between Kareem and the door. Kareem staggered. “Shit, you little asshole! You made me shoot myself in the leg. That’s it. You’re going down. If you’re lucky you’ll wake up on the plane.” He swung his big fist toward Dillon. Scott moved around Dillon and caught Kareem’s arm and slammed it back into the door. Kareem swung his other hand, holding a gun, hard into the side of Scott’s head. Scott crumpled to the floor and blood flowed from a cut on his temple. “Scott!” Dillon punched Kareem hard in the nuts. Kareem let out a huge woof of air and started to bend over, then grabbed Dillon’s leg. “Dammit! I will shoot you, Dillon. I’ll bring your ass down—” Robbie kicked Kareem in his injured leg. Kareem screamed and swung the gun toward Robbie. The crack of gunfire filled the apartment for a second time. Blood sprayed out from Robbie. Falling back over the recliner, Robbie stopped moving. “Robbie!” Dillon swung another blow at Kareem. It was a clumsy swing, and Kareem got hold of his arm in an incredibly tight grip. “Dill, we need fighters.” Kareem squeezed Dillon’s arm hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. “You’re the son of our founder. Even if you have to be taught, you’ll fight alongside us.” “Never!” Dillon yanked backward, trying to get out of

Kareem’s hold. With a look of incredible pain, Kareem rose to his feet and pulled Dillon’s arm up. “Let’s just drag you out of here. I’m tired of dealing with you.” Kareem reached behind himself to open the door awkwardly with the hand that still held the pistol. Dillon kicked at Kareem’s legs, but couldn’t get a good enough angle to make an impact the way Robbie had. He glanced at Scott, still lying on the floor bleeding, but at least his chest was still rising and falling. Robbie hadn’t moved since he fell over the arm of the recliner. Dillon couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Kareem got the door open and forced Dillon outside, onto the narrow walkway that accessed the second story apartments. Dillon grabbed hold of the doorframe and yanked himself away from Kareem with his free hand. Dillon went down. The rough wood of the walkway hit his forehead hard, but he forced himself to keep moving and scramble away from Kareem. “Dammit, Dill, get back here!” Kareem shouted as he staggered. Two gunshots rang out. Dillon braced himself for impact but didn’t stop moving. A heavy thud sounded behind him. Not looking back, Dillon stayed on his hands and knees and scurried as fast as he could for the stairway that wasn’t far from him. A large, uniformed police officer met him at the stairs. “Put your hands where I can see them! Don’t move!” Dillon lay flat on the walkway and thrust his hands out

before him, hoping that he wasn’t about to die in a shootout between Kareem and the police. “Be careful!” Dillon gasped for air as his pulse pounded in his head. “He’s got a gun.” “I’ve got one,” the officer said into the radio on his shoulder. He kept his gun trained on Dillon. “Okay, kid, get up nice and slowly. No sudden moves.” All Dillon could do was nod and keep his hands out. It was awkward standing like that, but he moved slowly. The policeman kept the gun pointed at him the whole time. When he made it to his feet, the officer walked over to him. “Put your hands on your head and turn around.” Not sure if anything he could say would help his cause, Dillon did as instructed. When he turned, he spotted Kareem lying in a widening pool of blood in front of the door to the apartment he’d lived in for years. Police swarmed up the far stairs, their guns out and ready. Seeing Kareem dead helped Dillon relax. “You have to help Scott and Robbie,” he said as the policeman handcuffed him. “They’re in our apartment. Kareem shot Robbie.” “We’ve got injured in the apartment,” the policeman reported in his radio. “Are there any other weapons in there?” Dillon shook his head. “Okay, kid.” The officer walked him toward the stairs. “Let’s get you down to the car. You can call your folks from the station.” Dillon wanted to run and make sure that Scott and

Robbie were okay, but he didn’t want to be shot by the police officer either. He went along and hoped the Shanks would never come after him again, even if he was the son of their founder.

22

DILLON STARED at Detective Graham as the detective

finished inputting Dillon’s statement. Uncle Bryan and his lawyer, Harvey Blankenship, had showed up more than an hour before and sat there in silence as Dillon answered Graham’s many questions. He’d felt like he had after the convenience store robbery. The main difference was that once Graham became involved, the handcuffs had come off and he was treated like the victim he was as opposed to a suspect. The general change in attitude helped him relax. Detective Graham sighed as he gave his computer mouse a final click. “At least we have enough witnesses that we’re not going to have a lot of fallout over this one. No one’s going to be able to say Holmes was unarmed. Can’t officially say that I won’t be sorry to see him gone. Now to figure out where the rest of the Shanks have gone. Maybe him saying something about an airplane will help us figure it out.” Uncle Bryan leaned forward and spoke for the first time in several minutes. “Wait a minute, the rest of the Shanks are missing? I’ve seen news reports about young American people going to the Middle East to join the fighting over there; could that have been what was going on?” “Possible.” Graham shook his head. “We might never

know. We’ve got pictures of all the known Shanks circulating, but with the amount of oil money that comes through Texas, it’s easy for those guys to move people back and forth across the borders. So many of them have major political connections.” Dillon didn’t care about strife across the ocean. He’d lost so much recently, all he wanted to do was find a way to put his life back together. “So what about Scott and Robbie? Do we know how they are?” “When we came back here, there wasn’t any word on them.” Graham studied his computer monitor and clicked on a couple of things. “Still nothing that’s been sent to me.” “So are we done, Detective Graham?” Harvey Blankenship asked. “I also presume in light of these developments, there won’t be any more questions concerning Dillon and the incident the last day of school.” “I’m not the DA, but I’d say that he’s in the clear. It’s obvious that Holmes was after him and trying to get him wrapped up with the Shanks. I’ve seen them use similar tactics before. You should hear something official from the DA in a couple of days. If he’s got more questions, I’m sure he’ll be in touch.” Blankenship and Uncle Bryan stood before Dillon did. All of the excitement and stress of the day suddenly weighed heavily on Dillon. It was all he could do to get out of the chair. His arm still hurt from where Kareem grabbed him, and at some point, in the police car, bruises had formed there. His forehead also pounded under the bandage the paramedic applied after announcing he didn’t

have a concussion from hitting his head on the walkway. “Come on, Dillon.” Uncle Bryan held the door to the small office open. “Let’s go find Scott, Alex, and Paul and make sure everything’s okay.” “Robbie too. I’m still worried that Kareem killed him.” Dillon made his way out of Graham’s office. “Dillon!” Scott’s shout rolled down the marbled hallway. Dillon turned toward him and nearly lost his balance as his head spun from the quick movement. Then Scott’s strong arms were around him. He found himself off the ground in a tight, affectionate hug. “Scott, you’re okay.” Scott gave him a quick kiss. “Just a little bump on the head.” He touched the bandage on his temple. “I can’t believe I collapsed that easily.” “More than just a little bump on the head.” Alex appeared behind Scott. “You’ve got a mild concussion, boy. You’re supposed to be taking it easy. The only way we got them to let you out of the hospital was by telling them that you’d be still and quiet for a couple of days. I don’t think picking up Dillon qualifies as still and quiet.” “Sorry, Dad.” Scott looked a little cowed but kept hold of Dillon’s hand. “I’m just happy he’s okay.” He reached up and traced the bandage on Dillon’s forehead. “You know, if this was off to the side a bit we’d almost match.” A soft smile formed on Dillon’s lips. “Almost.” He squeezed Scott’s hand. Uncle Bryan turned from his lawyer as Blankenship walked away. “Okay, let’s go to the hospital and check on Robbie. Then we should probably go get some dinner, if

everyone’s up for it.” “Can it be closer to home?” Dillon asked. “I want to go see Robbie, make sure he’s okay, but I also want to get out of town. There’s too much….” He struggled to find the right word for what he was feeling. “Everything?” Scott suggested. “I understand.” Uncle Bryan pushed the button for the elevator. “Yeah, Alex, if you need to get back out to the house, I can get Scott home. I wish you’d brought Paul along, though. That way we could go get the spare car from the apartment.” “Paul’s here,” Alex replied. “He just went to find some bottled water.” His phone beeped, and he pulled it out and looked at it. “In fact, he’s in the elevator now. If you give us the keys and the address, we can go take care of that while you and the boys go to the hospital.” They got the details worked out during the elevator ride to the first floor, and after a round of reassuring hugs on the marble steps leading into the police station, they hurried off in their separate directions. DILLON FOUGHT back the uneasy fear that bombarded him

as they walked into the hospital, the same place he lost his mother less than a month before. As they walked to the information desk with Uncle Bryan in the lead, his heart pounded so hard it was louder in his ears than some of the hushed conversation around them. Scott touched his arm. “If this is too much for you, let

Bryan go check on Robbie.” “No.” For a second Dillon thought about taking Scott’s hand for comfort but resisted. He didn’t want to have to deal with people’s looks and whispers. “Robbie got hurt trying to help me, just like you did. I have to go and see him, make sure he’s okay. Mom wouldn’t want me to abandon him just because this place reminds me of losing her.” Uncle Bryan came back from the information desk. “Okay, I know where we’re going. Thankfully, he’s already in a regular room.” Realizing that they weren’t going to have to be in intensive care again let Dillon relax a little bit. When the elevator arrived, it was one he hadn’t been in before and they were the only ones in it. Dillon hugged Scott as tight as he could. “Thank you for coming with us. It really helps having you at my side right now.” Scott kissed him quickly. “I’m here for you. My dads have shown me that one of the most important things a couple can do for each other is be there when they’re needed.” “Your dads are good that way,” Uncle Bryan said. The doors opened for their floor, and they hurried out of the elevator. As soon as they were a couple of steps from the elevator, Dillon’s feet dragged. Can I do this? Robbie

was hurt because of me. If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have been. And he confessed he’s interested in me. If he’d told me that two months ago, things would be different, but I don’t know how I would’ve reacted two

months ago. He rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans, which still had dust and dirt on them from the walkway in front of the apartment. Uncle Bryan stopped at a room and glanced back at Dillon, only halfway there. “You going to be okay?” Dillon managed a tight nod. “I think so.” Scott patted his hand. “I’m right here. If this gets too hard, just say something and we’re out of here.” The door to the room was open. Uncle Bryan knocked before he went on in. Robbie’s parents sat on either side of the bed. His mother was closest to the door. Robbie lay on the bed, pale, but his blue eyes were open. “Dillon, how are you?” Robbie’s mother came and hugged him. It felt awkward since in all the times he’d been over to Robbie’s house, his mother had never touched him in any way. “A little bumped up, but I’ll survive. How is Robbie?” “Oh God.” Her voice cracked and sounded like she was near tears. “We were all so thankful that the bullet missed anything vital. A little lower and in his chest, it would’ve caught his right lung instead of just his arm.” “Mom, don’t get upset again,” Robbie said. His voice was soft and shallow, like it took all of his energy to speak. “Baby, you could’ve died at the hands of that monster.” Robbie’s father came over and hugged his mother. “But he didn’t, did he, Delores? He’s going to be fine with a lot of rest. The doctors say he’ll be back on his feet in no time. I bet all the girls at the pool will be talking about his new scar when he gets back to work.”

For a second, Robbie met Dillon’s gaze and there was a pleading look in his eyes. Dillon nodded an understanding. He doesn’t want me to say anything that

will let his folks know he doesn’t care what the girls say. But I bet a bunch of the guys will think the gunshot scar is cool. “At least all the boys are going to be okay,” Uncle Bryan said. “By the way, I’m Bryan Smith, Dillon’s uncle and guardian.” Then he gestured to Scott. “And this is Scott Bradley. He lives down the block from us in Kerens. He was helping Dillon get things out of the apartment today.” Scott raised his hand in greeting. “Oh God,” Robbie’s mother sobbed. “It was so horrible what happened to poor Milly. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t make the funeral. It’s just good that Dillon has you to look after him for the next couple of years.” Uncle Bryan grinned at Dillon. It was the first happy look that Dillon had seen on his face since he’d arrived at the police station. “He’s a good kid. Luckily, Milly did all the hard work on him. All I have to do is somehow keep him alive a little while, and he’ll be on his own.” “If you need any help, feel free to call. Dillon and Robbie have been friends for years. I think I know a little bit about how he thinks.” Dillon made himself not react to her words. Sure, they’d been friends, but she hadn’t had a ton of interaction with him, even all the times she’d driven him home in bad

weather or the couple of times he’d slept over at their house before going on a field trip or something. “I’ll remember that. Scott’s folks are also offering to help me out. Since I never had kids of my own, Dillon’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a son, but I don’t know much about teen boys, other than my own personal accounts, and I’m not sure how my folks survived my teen years.” “Mom,” Robbie said, interrupting Uncle Bryan’s monologue, “if you guys wouldn’t mind. I’d like to talk to Dillon just the two of us for a few minutes.” “Sure, sweetie, not a problem, just don’t talk too much and wear yourself out. We want you to be able to go home tomorrow.” She walked to his bedside and kissed him on the forehead before gesturing for everyone to head out of the room. “You going to be okay?” Scott whispered. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you in a few.” Dillon wished they could’ve hugged before Scott walked out into the hall, leaving him alone with Robbie. “Close the door,” Robbie said once everyone was clear. Dillon did as he asked. When he made it back to the bedside, a heavy lump rested in his throat. “I’m sorry you got hurt. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be fine and wouldn’t be missing any of your summer at the pool.” Robbie started to move his hand, then winced and lay still. “Don’t worry about it. Did my folks tell me right? Is Kareem dead?” “Yeah.” Dillon sat in the chair where Robbie’s mother

had been when he entered the room. “The police took him out. If you ask me, I think they’re happy that he’s off the street.” “I wonder who’ll take his place.” Robbie frowned. “There will always be another Kareem at school. If we’re all lucky, it’ll be someone we can easily deal with.” “I won’t be there.” Dillon stared out the window. Even as high up as they were, he couldn’t see the edge of town. The buildings and roads seemed to go on forever. “I know.” Robbie sounded sad. “I guess until I saw you with Scott today, I hoped you’d be back and maybe I’d find the courage to tell you I was interested in you.” He moved his head slightly as if to shake it, then winced again. “By the way, this bullet wound might not have hit anything vital, but it really hurts.” “Thanks for taking a bullet for me.” Dillon didn’t know what else to say about the situation. It sounded cheap and cliché, but it was all he could force out of his mouth. “You know, I don’t know how I would’ve reacted if you’d told me you were gay and interested in me before my mom died. I’m just coming to terms with it myself. Uncle Bryan, Scott, and Scott’s dads are helping me understand. I guess you saw something in me that I didn’t even realize was there.” “I wasn’t sure. I don’t think it’s really possible to look at someone and see that they’re gay. But there were little things, like some of the looks you gave when the girls would hug you.” “What kind of looks?” “The kind that said all you would ever be to them was

friends. It gave me hope. But I guess I waited too long. You found Scott. He’s really hot, by the way. Good catch.” A warm grin spread over Dillon’s face. “Thanks. You’re pretty hot yourself. Who knows, if things don’t work out with Scott, maybe I’ll come back to Dallas looking for you.” “I’m not waiting around. There’s been a few guys at the pool who’ve been flirting… a lot. When I get back, maybe I’ll let them feel my scar.” Robbie took a deep breath. “I hope we can still be friends. Through everything, the gangs, the cheerleaders, hard tests… you’ve been there for me.” “And I still am. We can still chat, call; if you don’t mind me bringing Scott along, we can go to the occasional movie and dinner. I still want to be your friend, Robbie. Hell, maybe we can double date from time to time.” “I don’t know, you and Scott might make any guy along with us think that I’m not all that hot.” “No way.” “We’ll see.” He yawned. “At least Kareem’s gone. That alone makes this pain worth it. I think I want to go back to sleep for a bit. Are you going to stay around?” “I don’t think so. Uncle Bryan said something about getting some dinner on the way home. I’m working on hungry. But I can come back up and see you.” “Not necessary. Mom said I should get out tomorrow. But you could stop by the house sometime and check on me. That would be nice.” Impulsively, Dillon leaned over and kissed Robbie’s forehead like his mother had. “That would be nice. Chase me down in chat when you’re up to it. Now rest and get to

feeling better.” “Thanks. Dillon, you’re a great guy. I hope Scott makes you happy.” “He does.” Dillon turned and walked out the door. He didn’t want to say good-bye, not in the hospital. Good-bye in a hospital sounded too permanent, and he didn’t want anything to happen to Robbie.

23

DILLON WALKED through the gate into the flight pen area.

Alex said Scott was down feeding. He felt safe and secure as he strolled there. Something about not seeing other houses beyond the trees that surrounded the property made it feel better to him. He didn’t call out for Scott. He didn’t want to scare any of the birds. Instead he walked around, looking for him. At nearly every occupied flight pen, he stopped and looked at the birds. A lot of the time, he struggled to remember what they were, but when he reached the flight with the red-tailed hawks, he stood and studied them. The bird he and Uncle Bryan rescued sat on a perch near the front of the flight. When he walked up, she positioned herself in a beam of sunlight perfect for preening. But right after he started looking at her, she stopped and returned his intense gaze in spades. “You know….” Scott’s voice behind him startled Dillon and broke the visual connection between him and the hawk. “I think she likes you. When Alex and Paul are out here, she spends all her time in the back of the flight.” “But she hangs out with me when I’m here.” For a moment Dillon wanted to ask Scott for a glove so he could see if she’d sit on his hand. After handling Mel, Scott’s

hawk, several times and getting used to feeding her with Scott, he wondered if the hawk he’d carried to the center would be interested in being as close to him as Mel was to Scott. But he knew that she was still a wild bird and would probably freak out if he made advances to her. “Sometimes I think they understand who has helped them get well. A lot of folks say that birds of prey can’t show gratitude, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. I know they’re a lot smarter than most people give them credit for.” Scott shoved a stack of empty butter tubs at him. Most of them had red smears in the bottom from the meat that had recently been in them. “If you’re here, you can give me a hand. I’m about halfway done.” “Okay.” Dillon loved helping Scott with the birds. It was cool on its own, but it allowed him to spend more time with Scott, even though they were now spending hours a day together. It didn’t take them long to finish feeding the birds, and they found themselves at Mel’s flight. “Hey—” Scott handed the last tub other than Mel’s to Dillon. “—why don’t we take her out for some nice long flights? She’s nearly done molting and needs some extra exercise. She’s turned into a real perch potato this summer.” “What are you suggesting?” “We can take her down to the road, we can get some good distance between us and let her fly. She’s hungry so I don’t think there’s any fear of her taking off on us.” He reached for the empty tubs in Dillon’s hands. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll run into the house, get a leash, and an

extra glove. Need to separate the food out too.” “Sounds like fun.” “Good. Be right back.” Dillon stood outside the flight and looked at Mel, who was watching Scott hurry away with an odd tilt to her head and a question in her dark brown eyes. It was the first time that Dillon had realized that her eyes were the same color as Scott’s. “He’ll be right back.” Somehow, talking to her made sense to him. She ruffled her feathers and then preened for a moment before tucking up her foot and appearing to drop off to sleep. The wind was still and the humidity heavy as Dillon stood there in the aisle between pens and looked at the napping red-tailed hawk. He loved the way her feathers reflected different colors as she breathed. With each subtle movement, another shade of brown or beige came into being. Watching them in the wild, it’s hard to see all the

differences in them. Here it gets a lot easier. She’s so incredible. I need to talk to Scott about being a falconer. I want to have this in my life. He sighed. I want Scott in my life, forever. It was the first time that he’d admitted to himself that he really wanted Scott around full-time. Since Kareem’s death the week before, he and Scott spent most of their free time with each other, often making out but just as often holding each other. Dillon had never understood before the comfort people drew from simple, intimate contact like just being in someone’s arms. He’d learned the basic comfort and pleasures physical contact held, and he

didn’t want to be without it anymore. Mel straightened and looked down the aisle, alerting Dillon to Scott’s return before Scott turned the corner and started toward them. “Do you recognize the sound of his walking?” Dillon stared at her, but she remained silent, like he knew she would, and never took her eyes off Scott. “Okay, you two, are you ready to do this?” Scott handed a glove and small bowl of tidbits to Dillon. “Sure.” Dillon slipped the bowl into his pocket before he pulled on the glove. Without saying anything else, Scott unlocked the flight and held his gloved hand out to Mel. She flew from her perch to him. After she landed, she glanced down at his fist. She stamped her foot as Scott got hold of her jesses and clipped them off to the leash he’d tied to the D-ring on his glove. “Not yet. You’ve got to work harder than that today for your food.” Her look was harsh as he carried her out of the flight and started for the main gate. Although she glanced about as he carried her along, she remained calm and seemed to focus on the house. It wasn’t until they came within sight of the van that she tried to fly off Scott’s fist. When she folded up her wings and sat quietly again, she stomped on his hand again. “I think she thinks we’re going hunting.” “Why do you say that?” Dillon had been carefully walking on Scott’s offside so he didn’t upset Mel. “She bated toward the van. We normally take the van when we go hunting.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Dillon thought it showed how smart she was. Once they were past the van, she kept looking over her shoulder, back toward it, reinforcing the idea that she wanted into it. Every so often, Scott would carefully touch her feet, drawing her attention to him. “We’ve got other plans right now,” he told her softly. “So what do I do?” Dillon asked as they reached the end of the driveway. “Walk down almost to the next driveway. Then just hold your arm out with a tidbit on your fist like we’ve done in her flight. Nice and easy.” “Okay.” Dillon’s heart pounded as he walked down the dirt road that ran between their houses. He stopped when he thought he was far enough away. He pulled out the tidbit cup, put a piece of meat on his fist and looked over his shoulder. Scott nodded and Dillon held up his fist. Mel came at him like a shot and seconds later she landed delicately on his hand. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Mel snatched the food from his gloved hand and immediately looked over her shoulder before launching back down the road to Scott. They repeated things for several minutes, until they both ran out of meat. She ended up on Scott’s hand, and Scott had her jesses secured to the leash by the time Dillon reached them. “That was so much more fun than just having her make little flights to us in the flight pen. Why don’t we do it that way every day?”

“Several things.” Scott started walking back to the flight pen. “First, during the molt, she can be a bit unpredictable. It would’ve been horrible if she’d decided to go sit up in a tree for several hours and I had to beg her to come down. Second, it’s warm, which also makes her unpredictable. It’s much safer in warm weather to do things in the flight. I’d have died of embarrassment if she decided to catch a thermal and go soaring. It’s really pretty, but birds can get a real long distance away in a short time soaring.” “Yeah, that might be bad.” Dillon didn’t want to think about Mel flying away. “Wouldn’t she come back?” “Maybe, maybe not. Lots of factors can affect if a bird comes back to where it was lost or not. In warm weather, she might get so far away that she couldn’t find her way home. They aren’t homing pigeons.” “Okay, so if warm weather flying is so bad, why did we just do it now?” Dillon knew there was a lot that he didn’t know about the birds and couldn’t wait for the learning curve to be over. “I’ve been cutting her weight the past few days and then gave her a skip day yesterday.” “Skip day?” “In the wild, hawks don’t eat every day. Sometimes they don’t catch anything. This makes them try harder the next day. So it’s a good idea in captivity to do this from time to time. It helps get their attention. Since she had a skip day yesterday, I knew that she’d pay attention to us today.” “So it was safe today?” Dillon held the main gate open for Scott and Mel.

Scott huffed. “I wouldn’t say safe, exactly. There’s always the possibility that shit might fly. Let’s just say, I figured I knew what she’d do and she did, so everything worked out.” “I’m glad it did. So how long before we can go hunting?” Ever since Scott explained how Mel and the other falconry birds hunted with them, he’d wanted to go. “Probably a couple of months.” Scott reached Mel’s flight and slipped through the open door. “One drawback to living in Texas, it doesn’t get cool here as quickly as other parts of the country. But she’ll be finished with the molt in a couple of weeks, and after that, it’s all about weather.” He undid her leash and she flew back to her perch. With a quick wipe of her beak, she was already settling down. Scott walked out of the flight, locked it, then stood next to Dillon and watched Mel start grooming. “One plus to living in Texas, or so I hear from other falconers I know, is that we have an open season on rabbits and squirrels. There’s a few guys that start hunting as soon as their bird is out of the molt. I don’t do that. Not to mention, I don’t like sweating while I hunt. It doesn’t seem right, although last year we hunted in short-sleeve shirts at the field meet in January.” “Yeah, it was rather warm last winter, wasn’t it?” “Okay, so now what?” Scott walked toward the house. “If it was earlier, I’d say we take a ride, but Uncle Bryan will want to have dinner in a little while.” Dillon pulled off the falconry glove and handed it to Scott. “Why don’t we go feed the horses, then, and see

what’s going on? I’ll go let Alex know I’m heading down there.” They walked into the house, put up the gloves, and added the tidbit cups to the tubs in the sink before they went looking for Alex. It was getting to be routine, and Dillon found it to be a routine he enjoyed. Everything in Kerens was making him happy, pushing away the darkness from his previous life in Dallas.

24

DILLON HELPED Uncle Bryan clean up the kitchen after their

dinner of quick burgers on the grill. He never realized how much better home cooking was than fast food until he’d come to Kerens. His mother always seemed to be running late for something, so they’d eaten most of their evening meals from various restaurants around the neighborhood. Uncle Bryan was far enough away from the restaurants that they weren’t really an everyday option. But his cooking was far superior to fast-food fare. “I heard from Detective Graham today.” Uncle Bryan folded the dish towel and hung it on the door handle in front of the sink. “What did he have to say?” For a second Dillon’s hands started to sweat with the unknown. He wiped them on the towel he held before he folded it to join Uncle Bryan’s. Uncle Bryan walked toward the living room. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.” “If we didn’t talk about it over dinner, this must be serious.” Dillon nervously wiped his hands down his jeans. “Yes and no.” Uncle Bryan settled into his favorite chair. Dillon perched on the corner of the couch, suddenly wishing that Scott was there with him.

“He heard back from the DA; the case with the convenience store is officially closed. The store owner complained a bit, but wasn’t willing to file civil charges if the DA didn’t want to file criminal charges. That’s good news. They’ve also found most of the rest of the Shanks.” “Where are they?” Dillon leaned forward. “In Syria.” “Where?” Dillon thought it sounded like a country he’d heard about in school, but he couldn’t remember where it was. “It’s in the Middle East.” “What are they doing there?” It didn’t make any sense to Dillon, but then he flashed back to another conversation with the detective and Kareem’s words about needing fighters. “They’ve joined some kind of radical group in the war over there. Some oil man managed to get them out of the country.” A concerned look crossed Uncle Bryan’s face. “I’m so glad that Hassan wasn’t able to get you to that moving truck. You’d have been on that plane, and I never would’ve gotten you back.” “I’m glad too. It’s hot enough here in Texas. I don’t want to live in a desert.” “You realize they would’ve killed you over there? They don’t like gays at all. You probably don’t see the various news sites about it, but they’re stoning gays and throwing us from buildings every day. A lot of those countries have the harshest antigay laws in the world.” “They still think it’s a choice?” Dillon asked. Even with

the things he’d put up with in school, being bullied for being gay wasn’t part of it. If he’d gotten with Robbie, it might’ve been different. I guess I’ve been lucky, but I don’t know

what school will hold for me out here. At least I’ll have Scott to lean on. “I think some of them are more backward than a lot of the rednecks around here. At least the rednecks around here can be reasoned with once you get them drunk enough.” Uncle Bryan shook his head. “No, don’t ever try that method. Forget I mentioned it. It has too much possibility to get messy. But overall, I just want you to know how thankful I am that Kareem didn’t haul you off and that you’re still here with me.” He swallowed. “I wish your mother was still here too.” As his chest tightened, Dillon nodded. “I do too. Speaking of Mom, any chance they were able to tie Kareem to the drive-by?” “I was getting there. They did a ballistics test on Kareem’s gun and actually managed to link him to several recent murders, including your mother’s.” “I knew he had something to do with that. There was just something about the way he went on about me not having a family now. It almost sounded like he was gloating.” “It was probably some kind of psychological thing for him, or the terrorists he worked with. Get you into a place in your mind where you’d be willing to accept their teachings by taking everything important away from you.” Uncle Bryan

chewed on his lip a bit and drummed on the tight leather of the chair arm. “The things I hear about what some of these people are willing to do in an effort to expand their forces is just horrifying. I hope we never have to personally deal with them again.” “Me too,” Dillon agreed. “Now, we can get on with our lives and just be thankful that the holes left behind aren’t bigger. One last thing, I’ve called a company that will go in and finish cleaning out the apartment. Goodwill didn’t want anything to do with it after finding out that the driver was a Shank and people had been shot during the attempted pickup. I think everything important is out of there.” The idea of going back to the apartment sent chills through Dillon. “If we missed anything, we can just replace it later. I don’t want to go back.” “That’s what I figured. It’ll be taken care of tomorrow.” Dillon’s phone chimed with an incoming text. He glanced at it. It was Robbie. “Good. I think I’m going to go chat with Robbie for a while, if that’s okay. And Scott’s expecting me in World in a bit.” Uncle Bryan stood and gave Dillon a big hug. “I’m so happy that you’ve found a life out here.” Dillon hugged him back. “I’m happy too. Thanks for taking me in, Uncle Bryan.” The phone chimed again, sounding almost impatient. “Go, talk to Robbie, tell him hello from me and make sure he knows that I’m happy he’s feeling better.” Dillon headed down the hall. “I will. I’ll also let him know

what Detective Graham said.” He started replying as he walked. Dillon> Was talking with Uncle Bryan. Robbie> No prob. Dillon> U doing ok? Robbie> Yeah. Mom let me out of bed today. Dillon> Good. How soon before she lets u out of the

house? Robbie> No clue. Want to break now. Dillon> Scott and I will come take you to the movies

when she lets go. He relayed the information Uncle Bryan told him. Robbie was as happy as Uncle Bryan had been about Kareem failing. By the time he finished chatting with Robbie, it was time for him to log into WoW and meet Scott. The game booted quickly, but it didn’t show Scott as logged on. Dillon started doing small things in the game as he waited for Scott to appear, but after five minutes, he still was not there. Dillon picked up his phone and started to text Scott when there was a tap at his window. He put the phone on the desk and went to the window. Outside, Scott grinned at him. “I thought we were gaming tonight,” Dillon said after he opened the window. “I thought you might like a change of plans. It’s a really pretty night out. What do you say we ride down to the lake?” He pulled off the backpack he had over his shoulder. “I

remembered towels.” The light from Dillon’s room sparkled off the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Are we riding or walking?” “Up to you. We’d get there faster on horseback.” Dillon gestured Scott toward the front door. “Okay, but we have to ask Uncle Bryan if it’s okay to take the horses out.” Dillon closed the window, and with a light happy step, hurried to the living room. Uncle Bryan looked up from the show he had on as Dillon walked behind him and to the front door. As Scott came in, Dillon gave him a lusty kiss. “What are you two up to tonight?” Uncle Bryan asked. “I thought you said you were gaming.” “That was the plan,” Dillon said, “before Scott changed things on me. Do you mind if we take the horses down to the lake?” Uncle Bryan rubbed his chin for a moment. “Scott, do your folks know about this?” “Yes. I told them I was coming down here to see if Dillon wanted to go for a late-night swim. They said it was okay as long as we were together. If he didn’t want to go, I’m to go home and not go swimming by myself.” “Good call. I’ll give them a holler when you two leave to let them know that you’re on your way.” Uncle Bryan let out a long, slow breath. “The road between here and there is fairly smooth and the horses know it, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Watch out for coyotes and cars.” Dillon nodded. “We always do.”

“You two go and have fun.” A serious look crossed Uncle Bryan’s face. “Also watch out for watchers. If you think you have an audience, assume you do and don’t do anything that will get you into trouble. Do you understand?” Dillon glanced at Scott, who nodded. “We understand. Thanks, Uncle Bryan.” “Just be quiet when you come in. I’ve got to get to bed early and get up for a client call in the morning. Don’t forget your phone, in case there’s a problem.” Patting his pocket, Dillon realized he didn’t have the phone. “I’ll go get it.” He hurried from the room and down the hall. His excitement level built. I hope we’ve got our little

spot at the lake to ourselves.

25

THE STARS sparkled on the water. Dillon rode next to Scott

as they left the deserted parking lot and headed down the well-trod trail toward where they had done their first swim. He’d seen the moon reflected on water before, but the moon wasn’t out and the stars were bright enough; once they got away from the glow of the lights on the bridge, they shone like pieces of glitter cast on the water. “Wow, that’s pretty,” Dillon said softly. Suddenly he felt like if he talked too loudly it would break the quiet taboo of nature that had settled around them, broken only by the clop of hooves. Scott turned in his saddle and looked back at Dillon. “What? Oh… the stars on the water?” “Yeah.” “I’ve seen it before, but it is really awesome. I bet you don’t get to see things like that in the city.” They reached their spot, and Scott swung down from Rusty. “We can barely see stars there.” Dillon got off Dusty. “People miss so much in the city. You don’t hear coyotes. The sound of sirens is what you fall to sleep to more often than not.” He tied the reins on the tree next to where Scott tied Rusty’s. “Yeah, around here if there’re sirens there’s a major

problem.” Scott pulled off the backpack and started pulling off his clothes. As his heart raced, Dillon did the same. “Suits or no?” “It’s the middle of the night, unless we’ve got some asshole out here spotlighting fish, we’re all alone. What do you think?” The idea of swimming naked in the cool lake under the sparkling stars with Scott excited Dillon. He frantically finished getting his clothes off, hopping awkwardly to yank his socks free. They hit the water at the same time. Dillon caught hold of Scott and kissed him. “Thanks for thinking of this.” “I remembered how much fun we had at the Tubalds’ pond, but they came home last week, so that’s out until they leave town again.” Scott combed his hand slowly through Dillon’s wet hair. “The lake is better than the pond. It feels more… freeing? I don’t know exactly what it is. But I like it.” Dillon ran his hands down the hard planes of Scott’s back. He’d only recently realized that he could feel individual muscles when he did that, and it was awesome. Between them, his body quickened and hardened. Scott kissed him again. “I like it too.” Holding on to Dillon, Scott threw them both sideways, down and under the water. Dillon let go of Scott and spluttered as he came out of the water. “What was that for?” “We came down for a bit of swimming, didn’t we? We were hardly getting wet.”

“You want to get wet?” With a hearty laugh, Dillon scooped a handful of water and lobbed it at Scott. For several minutes they played in the water, diving, splashing, and enjoying every minute of their time. Dillon felt free. Free of fear of the Shanks. Free of the city that caged him for his whole life. Free of care. He braced himself for something when Scott dove under the water, disappearing in the darkness. Then Scott grabbed his legs and slowly felt his way up Dillon’s body until he surfaced and kissed his way up the part of Dillon’s chest that was above water. His hands stayed on Dillon’s groin, feeling and stroking. Dillon hungrily kissed Scott as a hot urgent feeling rushed through him. “Can we take this to the shore?” Dillon asked when their lips finally parted. “I want to touch you all over.” Scott nodded. “Yes, please.” He grabbed Dillon’s hand, and they waded back to dry land. As they emerged from the water, it was obvious that Scott was as excited as Dillon was. Dillon wanted to grab hold and feel what Scott’s cock felt like. Scott grabbed the backpack and spread out a big fluffy towel like he’d done before; then he knelt at Dillon’s feet and reached up for his hands. “Come on down here.” Dillon took Scott’s hands and knelt beside him on the towel, surrendering to Scott’s body as the stars sparkled down on them. In the distance an owl hooted and a coyote howled.

DILLON’S FEELING of freedom grew stronger as he rolled

away from Scott when they decided it was time for a quick rinse in the lake before heading home. His body screamed for more, even though he was tired and spent. His legs shook slightly as he stood, and he reached out a hand to Scott’s shoulder to balance himself. Scott chuckled at him. “Legs a bit wobbly?” “Yeah. I never realized I could get wobbly from that.” “When it’s really good, you get wobbly.” Scott held Dillon’s hand and got to his feet. “And that was really awesome. You’re sure you’ve never done anything like that before?” “Nope. I can safely say I was a virgin in every way.” Scott hugged him. “And now you’re not, in several ways.” Scott’s kiss was soft and passionate. He leaned back while continuing to hold Dillon, as if trying to get a better look at him. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but then no one’s ever gotten ahold of me the way you have. When you’re around, I feel what a rabbit must feel when Mel has ahold of it. Your talons have sunk into me so far that I know you’ll never let go until I’m dead. But unlike that rabbit, I don’t care. I want you to hold me until I die, and I want to hold you until you die.” Dillon cocked his head and stared at Scott. “You realize that sounds fairly strange and morbid.” “Love is supposed to be strange. Dillon, I love you.” As the words passed Scott’s lips, Dillon thought his heart was going to explode. He hugged Scott as hard as he could and kissed him. “I love you too.”

They stood on the bank kissing for several minutes until Dillon shivered, more from emotion than cold. “Come on.” Scott pulled Dillon toward the lake. “Let’s rinse off, get dressed, and head home.” Not really caring what they did as long as he could spend more time with Scott, Dillon followed him into the lake. This time their splashing was directed at cleaning themselves off instead of just playing; then laughing, they dashed back to the towels. Dillon was giddy with happiness as he mounted Dusty and they rode toward the house. If there was any lingering

doubt in my mind about being gay, it’s gone. I’ve never felt so incredible. Nothing felt wrong or even majorly awkward. Yeah, it hurt a little bit. Even with Scott taking it slow for my first time, but after I relaxed, it felt amazing. Scott is so awesome. I don’t think things can get any better. Ahead of him Scott stopped Rusty and motioned for Dillon to look at something. A dark shape dove out of the tree and hit the edge of the water with a light splash. Seconds later, the shadow lifted off again with something long dangling from its talons. It disappeared into the trees. “What was that?” Dillon asked, riding up alongside Scott. “Barred owl. We’ve got a fair number of them along the lake. They like feeding on reptiles and the like, even fish sometimes.” “That was cool. What do you think it had?” “Snake most likely.” Scott put his heels to Rusty’s sides

and the horse started walking again. The display of nature’s wonder just capped Dillon’s day, and he rode home happily next to Scott.

26

“DO I need to bring anything?” Dillon asked as Scott stood

impatiently in his bedroom doorway. “Do you have a camera that’s better than the one on your phone?” “No.” “Then come on. Alex likes to do these things around sundown.” “Okay. You told Uncle Bryan?” “Yeah.” Scott turned down the hallway. “He said he’d meet us at the house.” “Where are we going to do it?” Dillon hurried to follow Scott. “Alex didn’t tell me.” Dillon made sure to lock the house as they left. When they walked down the driveway, he had the urge to run, but Scott maintained a steady, easy walk. “If you’re this excited now, what are you going to be like the first time you go hunting with us?” Scott asked as they turned down the street. Dillon shrugged. “No idea. But I’ve been waiting all summer for this.” “After the first couple of times, unless it’s personal, these things get fairly routine.”

“But this one is personal.” Dillon kicked at a large rock in the middle of the road. “This is the hawk Uncle Bryan and I brought in when I moved out here. It’s special on several levels.” “Yeah, she is. I guess you’re right.” Scott beamed at him. “She brought you down to my house for the first time and kept you coming back, at least at first.” “Just at first. Now I go down there for sexier reasons.” Dillon beamed back. Until he and Scott had their first encounter at the lake, he’d never believed that sex could be so important. From that first time, they’d gotten to the point where they had a lot of it. Uncle Bryan took to buying them large boxes of condoms. He said he didn’t mind, it let him know that they were being safe. But his relationship with Scott was a lot more than sex. He loved the things he was learning about the birds and country life in general. “There is that,” Scott agreed. Down the block, Alex’s van pulled out of their driveway and headed toward them. They stepped to the side of the road. Uncle Bryan was in the passenger seat. “Come on, you two. We were getting worried that you were going to be slow.” Scott opened the side door, and they climbed in. “I didn’t think we were being that slow.” Dillon fastened his seat belt. Alex chuckled. “You really weren’t. Even after all these years, I still get antsy when I’ve got birds to release. I want to make sure we have time to let everyone out before it

gets dark.” “We’re not going to let them all go at once?” Dillon asked. “Not unless we want to be feeding the smaller birds to the red-tail,” Scott said. “We’ll let the songbirds go, then the screech owls after a few minutes. When we think we’ve given them time to get away, we’ll let the red-tail go.” “I didn’t realize she’d eat the other birds.” Dillon paused and thought about it for a moment. “I guess it makes sense that book on falconry you gave me to study says that they’re very versatile hunters, taking fur and feathers.” “Exactly.” Alex turned down the main road but headed away from Kerens. “I’m glad you’re studying that book. Do you think you want to try and get your license this fall, or wait until next year?” “I’ve been trying to talk him into waiting,” Uncle Bryan said before Dillon could. “But he seems fairly set on getting it done this year. Are you and Paul going to be able to help him build his mews to keep the bird in, or do I need to see about hiring someone? You know me, I suck at handyman work.” “Which is why all the handymen in the area love you so much,” Alex said. “Yeah, Paul and I will help him. It’ll take a couple of days for the hard work, and then the boys can finish it up. We make a point to help all our apprentices with their facilities, that way we know they’re up to standards, and our standards are a little higher than what the law requires.”

“Cool,” Dillon said. He’d been studying for weeks. It gave him and Scott more excuses to spend time together. “I want to get going on things soon. I just can’t believe that you’ve lived so close to these guys and never wanted to get to know the birds better, Uncle Bryan.” “I’m not a hunter. I’ve gone out with Alex, Paul, and Scott a few times, and it’s kinda fun, but a bird’s a big responsibility and a bit of a time suck, so you’ve got to be prepared for that. Plus, other than the horses, I’m not a huge critter person. Why do you think I don’t have a dog?” Dillon frowned slightly as he thought about his mother, but it was easier to think about her than it had been a couple of months earlier. “That was always Mom’s excuse for us not having a dog: she wasn’t a critter person.” “And if you’re not an animal person, there’s not much you can do to change that.” Alex pulled down a short road that ended at the lake but was several miles south of where Dillon and Scott normally went. The small parking area was empty, and there was no boat dock. “If we were going to the lake, why didn’t we go to the spot closer to the house?” Dillon asked as he unbuckled his seat belt. “There’s normally fewer people around here,” Alex explained. “We don’t like a lot of spectators when we’re releasing birds ’cause you never know what’s going to happen. Sometimes the birds do unexpected things that don’t look that great to the public.” “Plus down here, we don’t have to worry about people watching us.” Scott squeezed Dillon’s hand and then

opened the side door so they could get out. Alex opened the back of the van. There were six pet carriers stacked there and one large wooden box. Alex went to the top left carrier and opened it. A momentary stream of sparrows shot out and disappeared into the trees. Out of the next carrier flew blue birds that vanished as quickly as the sparrows had. Dillon watched openmouthed as all the birds flew off. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it was cool watching the birds that he’d helped Scott feed during the summer finally flying free. There was one scissor-tailed flycatcher that had much shorter tail feathers than the ones Dillon watched the first time he rode to the lake with Scott. Even without its tail feathers, it still looked graceful as it left Alex’s hand and soared out over the lake. The screech owls left in a tight group and vanished into the low bushes around the parking lot in a flurry of gray and red wings with lots of chittering and calling to each other. Once they made it into the cover, they all got quiet, except for one lone bird that had flown the wrong way and called for the others. “There’s always one,” Scott said, leaning against the side of the van. Dillon leaned next to him, wrapping his arm around Scott’s waist. “What do you mean?” “We always release the screech owls in a group like this. Most of these guys are from the various babies that came in late spring, early summer. They’ve grown up together so releasing them together is a good thing. It gives

them a group to be with as they sort out being wild owls. But there’s always one who, for whatever reason, flies the wrong way and then spends time calling for the rest of them.” “Then we have to wait for it to calm down before we release bigger birds,” Alex added. Moments later the owl went silent. They stood there several more minutes as everything went still around them. Out on the lake, a speedboat zoomed past, kicking up a white plume. From what Dillon had seen of the area, it was as fast as things normally got, and he was finding he liked things slow and easy. “So, Dillon, do you want to do the honors?” Alex asked, offering him a falconry glove. Dillon let go of Scott. “Can I?” “Sure. You carried her to the center, I think it’s only fitting that you’re the one who helps her find the sky again.” Alex pulled the wooden box toward the back of the van and opened the door. He reached in quickly and pulled out the red-tailed hawk. She glared at them with the same intensity that she had the first day. But she didn’t struggle in Alex’s grasp as he turned to Dillon. “What do I do?” Dillon asked. A nervous knot formed in his gut. “See how I’m holding her?” “Yeah.” “Stand next to me and slip your hands in behind mine.” Alex held his arms out a little to give Dillon room.

Seconds later Dillon had hold of the hawk again. She turned her head and nipped at his gloved fingers. “Now what?” “Now you toss her back, like this.” Scott demonstrated lofting the bird into the air. It looked a bit like taking a granny shot in basketball. “You ready to fly again?” Dillon asked the bird as he went to toss her into the sky. For a second, when he tossed her up, she seemed to hover in the sky, looking a bit like an odd brown football. Then she opened her wings and began flapping. Dillon’s mouth fell open as he watched her gain altitude. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. Right then he knew he had found his path in life. He had to experience the feelings that were going through him again. Like sex with Scott, it was something he wanted to do over and over again. A sense of peace and perfection flowed through him as the hawk he helped rescue found the sky and flew away. It didn’t matter that she didn’t turn around and thank him. All that mattered right then was that he had helped repair damage done by a careless human and given some beauty back to the world. He watched her fly until she was a tiny dot on the west side of the lake; then he turned and grabbed Scott. “That was so awesome!” He kissed Scott. “That was perfect. She was perfect. You are perfect. This is all perfect!” Scott laughed and kissed him again. “I think you’re excited about all this.” “Yeah, just a bit,” Uncle Bryan agreed.

“It’s just so….” “Perfect?” Scott suggested. “Cool. I want to be doing this all the time.” He looked at Alex. “Can you teach me this, along with the falconry?” “I can. Or maybe we should send you to vet school with Scott. I think you two would make a great pair of rehabbers.” Dillon looked at Scott, still in his embrace. “You never told me you wanted to be a vet. That sounds awesome, as long as we can get to help the birds. I just want to help the birds.” Scott looked coy for a second. “I was going to surprise you with it right before we start back to school. Cool, huh?” “Yeah, it’s cool.” Dillon kissed him. “This is all cool.” “So now what?” Uncle Bryan asked. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hungry.” Emotions were still exploding inside Dillon. “Give us a minute.” He took Scott’s hand and walked to the water’s edge. He stared off in the direction he’d seen the hawk vanish. “I think she’s out farther than we can see,” Scott said. He let go of Dillon’s hand and put his arm across Dillon’s shoulders. “That’s okay. I just wanted to say good-bye.” He swallowed. “I never really got to tell Mom good-bye.” He fixed his gaze on the far shore. “Good-bye, hawk. Thank you for leading me to Scott and Return to the Sky. I owe you a lot.” He fought back tears as he hugged Scott. “I love you.” “I love you too.” Scott hugged him back, and Dillon

knew that everything was right in his world.

More from A.M. Burns

The Woodmen Chronicles: Book One Bigfoot hunters prowl the forests of Cripple Creek, Colorado. That doesn’t sit well with Thom Woodmen—a Bigfoot—albeit the runt of his family. Being the smallest has advantages; Thom, in disguise, gets to attend high school, and he’s not expected to accomplish much in life. All that changes when he comes across a distressed human in the

forest. Ben Steele is new to Cripple Creek High School, and after a harrowing experience in the woods near his new home, he quickly falls in with Thom Woodmen and his circle of friends. So what if they like to hang out with nature? Ben’s got nothing better to do. Trouble is, Ben can’t seem to stay out of it—trouble, that is. However, in saving young Ben’s life, Thom inadvertently kick-starts a bonding process that’ll change both their lives forever. With the support of family and friends, Thom learns to accept bonding with the human boy. But with the danger overrunning Cripple Creek lately, Thom may be cut down before he can confess his secret and his love.

The Woodmen Chronicles: Book Two Thom Woodmen is a bigfoot, although he prefers to be called an Oh Mah. When it comes time for the Oh Mah biannual gathering, he’s excited to go with Ben Steele, the human he bonded with. To Thom’s surprise, he is offered a place among the Guardians, the leaders of the Oh Mah. But since he grew up half in the human world, he can’t make a decision before he finds out more about these Guardians. When an Oh Mah is killed by a human, the growing antihuman sentiment runs rampant through the gathering.

Thom’s family swears to help protect Ben, but when some of the Guardians join the antihuman faction, they aren’t sure they can live up to their promise. Even when Ben is kidnapped, Thom doesn’t know what to say when the Guardians demand his answer. Thom feels like he’s not only being forced to choose between the Oh Mah and the human world, but also between a life with or without Ben.

The Woodmen Chronicles: Book Three Thom Woodmen, a bigfoot or Oh Mah, who lives in a human world, is bonded to Ben Steele, an average teenager. Thom has barely adjusted to his new status as a Guardian when he discovers others working against him and there’s a price on his head. Then an intruder appears in his family’s territory, and he senses strange energies coming from Ben. While they struggle to find out who wants Thom dead, Ben is tested to confirm Thom’s suspicions—Ben has magic. Ben shows promise, but he just wants to stay the

normal human within their group of friends. After more attacks, Ben begins to see how magic might help him protect Thom—if only he can learn enough before the witch who is hunting them closes in for the kill.

Readers love The Woodmen Chronicles by A.M. Burns

Hunters “I really enjoyed this book… it was a pretty fun, entertaining read and it left me wondering how things would go.” —Greedy Bug Book Reviews “This was such a delight to read… It was hard to put down as the pace was fast.” —multitaskingmommas Book Reviews “This was SUCH a cute story. From the start I was hooked…” —The Blogger Girls

Guardians “It did catch my attention from the moment I started reading and kept it all the way to the end.” —MM Good Book Reviews

A.M. BURNS lives in the Colorado Rockies with his partner, several dogs, cats, horses, and birds. When he’s not writing, he’s often fixing fences, splitting wood, hiking in the mountains, or flying his hawks. He’s enjoyed writing since he was in high school, but it wasn’t until the past few years that he’s begun truly honing his craft. He is the current president of the Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group: www.csfwg.org. Having lived both in Colorado and Texas, rugged frontier types and independent attitudes often show up in his work. Social media links: Website: www.amburns.com Twitter: twitter.com/#!/AM_Burns Facebook: www.facebook.com/authoramburns Goodreads author page: www.goodreads.com/author/show/5134598.A_M_Burns Pinterest: pinterest.com/mystichawker Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com//e/B0054EVI6W Mystichawker Press Author Page: www.mystichawker.com/amburns.html Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group: www.csfwg.org

By A.M. Burns

Finding the Sky THE WOODMEN CHRONICLES

Hunters Guardians Witches

Published by HARMONY INK PRESS www.harmonyinkpress.com

Published by Harmony Ink Press 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA [email protected] • harmonyinkpress.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Finding the Sky © 2016 A.M. Burns. Cover Art © 2016 Bree Archer. http://www.breearcher.com Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model. All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject

to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected]. ISBN: 978-1-63476-336-3 Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-338-7 Library of Congress Control Number: 2015947193 Published February 2016 v 1.1 Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents Blurb Dedication Author’s Note 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

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