[monsters under the bed, clowns, nuns, something you were terrified of but no longer are] "Taylor, why are you so quiet?" Taylor shrugged like always. "I guess I never have anything to say." "Why not? You're as smart as any one of us." "I guess it's my dad. When he was home, he used to throw things." Taylor paused for a moment. Why tell everyone this? Why right now? Taylor kept going anyway. "I'd get up in the morning and he'd be sitting at the breakfast table, glowering, and then one of us would say something, or my mother would try to talk to him and he'd just erupt. Milk and cereal everywhere. At least plastic dishes don't hurt as much as the real ones." "What happened?" Taylor felt a red flush around the neck. Too much attention. Taylor fiddled with a safety pin stuck through a shoelace. "One day my brother Mike just erupted back. It was the scariest thing ever, seeing the two of them get into it. There was orange juice and raisin bran everywhere. The refrigerator still has dents at head level. Mike lets out this bellow and swings and my old man just caved in like a balloon with a hole in it." The words "old man" stung a little bit as they came out. The picture of the deflated man took on a new weight. Taylor continued quietly, talking more toward the black high-tops than anyone who was actually listening. "Mike and he were like caged animals that year. Mike was fifteen and almost as big as he is now. He's still as big as a horse. They got into it a couple more times, but never like that first time. Finally dad just left. It's not like he had any stuff anyway. Just his ratty old mechanic's uniforms, and some T-shirts. He stormed out during breakfast one day and never came back." Taylor stopped, thinking about the day that summer when Mike had come home with a plastic bag over each handlebar on his bike, one with a box of cheap store-brand ice cream, and the other had a two liter bottle of root beer. They'd made root beer floats, and Mike casually slips in "Oh. I saw dad at the store." Taylor had demanded to know more. "How is he? Where's he living?", but Mike just got quiet and didn't really answer. "He just left like that?" "Yeah." Taylor fidgeted with the safety pin all the more intently. "You ever wonder where he is?" "Yeah." "Ever want to go find him?" Taylor shrugged. --- The summer wore on, taking an even hotter and more humid streak as August set in. Even the shade of the school grounds wasn't enough to keep it from feeling stifling hot. First Maria, then Emily didn't show up. Then Dylan and Derek. Taylor still spent most days hanging out in the courtyard at the school. The shade of the trees without AC was better than being at home without AC. Taylor's time alone was interrupted by footsteps. Taylor sat up and instinctively made a show of not having been lying down on the picnic tables. Old habits don't fade easily. "Hey John." "Hey Taylor." "Where's the rest of the gang?" Taylor shrugged. "Want to go find them?" Taylor shrugged but got up. Dr. Cox-Sachs' truck made Taylor smile. A restored Chevy pickup truck, with the old white-wall tires. It was the old kind, with the big round wheel-wells, and flat windows. It had personality. Like him. It was painted this weird shade of mint green, and the inside was all red. At first Taylor thought it looked terrible, but then when he saw John inside in his white shirt and brown vest, suddenly it just looked right. Taylor had to scramble to get up into it. It was a lot bigger than it looked. They pulled out of the school parking lot and headed for the main part of town. Taylor fiddled with the controls trying to find AC until John reached over and pulled a lever shut, then pushed a wing window open. It wasn't cool, but the moving air made the stifling hot interior bearable again. The truck made a roar as it pulled onto the highway, as if it considered fifty to be right proper work, and sounded accordingly. Not that the highway was a particularly big road, but it was the one that ran from town to the next town over, and if you knew where the hills were, there were a couple places where kids would try to see if the could break a hundred. Once in a while, someone would die trying. Taylor shivered a little as they passed one of the spots and saw the three little white crosses, with streamers blowing in the wind. John took his time, but it still only took a couple minutes to get into town. He pulled into a parking space on a side street, between the drive-through at the bank and a veterinarian's office. The roaring grumble of the engine left a silent hole for a moment as he turned it off. "You know where the gang is?" John shrugged at Taylor, then cracked a knowing smile. "I have a few ideas." Taylor followed as John walked down the block. They took their time, and John kept stopping to say hello to people. He always smiled at them, and they smiled back. Taylor mostly noticed the gum on the sidewalk and how it was almost the same color as the worn-out tips of the high-top sneakers.