The next several days whipped past. Although sitting in heated rooms listening to teachers seemed neverending, before I could figure out what to take notes on in my math class, it was the Fourth of July. The holiday fell on a Thursday, so all the summer school kids got off that day as well as the Friday after it. It was like Christmas break in the middle of summer for me and Adam. Every Year, Goldenrock had a big carnival for the Fourth. They called it The Goldenrock Jubilee. There were rides and prize games and contests. Picnics and barbecues. A parade. And, most importantly, the fireworks. The whole celebration went on Tuesday through Thursday, ending with the big fireworks display. Of course, Adam and I were in school both Tuesday and Wednesday, so we didn't get much of a chance to go to the carnival until the Fourth itself. We missed the opening stuff and the good food on the first two days. We missed most of the contests and the Miss Goldenrock Pageant (which, I have to admit, wasn't too disappointing). But we were going to spend our entire Thursday doing carnival stuff. I was the only one who said that out loud, though.

Adam tried every year to act like he couldn't care less about the Jubilee. He always spent the morning slugging around so that by the time we got there, it was past lunch. When we were there, he'd make me ask twice before he'd go on a ride. Once we were on them, though, he always had a good time. It would take him about an hour to really get into his carnival mode, but he inevitably ended up in it, despite his determination not to. Then we'd have fun.

It was hot and crowded when we got there around two. The ground was dusty and the grass had been trampled down by hundreds of feet. The air smelled like grease, butter, and funnel cakes. My stomach growled. Screams came from overhead as we walked underneath the Rocco Planes and past the Sizzler, toward the Tommy Tornado—the one where you're standing in a big circle and they spin you around so you're pressed against the wall. I always wanted to throw up after that one, but I never had. I had a good carnival stomach. That was at least one thing I had that my little brother didn't. Corey couldn't ride anything tougher than the Ferris Wheel or he'd get sick. He couldn't even ride the big swings! He never came to the carnival until later, because he only played games and watched fireworks.

"This is awesome," I muttered. "Let's go get some tickets. My mom gave me twenty bucks. How about yours?"

"Same."

"All right. If we use them wisely, we can get in eight rides. Or six rides and two games."

Adam's face was blank. "I'd rather be at the pool," was all he said.

I snorted. "Yeah right, Adam. You haven't been to the pool since fourth grade." I looked at him. He was all in dark colors, as usual. Pants three sizes too big and a brown T-shirt reading "Death to the Sun," whatever that meant. His wallet chain jangled heavily at his leg and he was wearing another thick ball chain around his neck. There was some new thing on his wrist, too. A black watchband-looking thing with little silver spikes around it. Sometimes I thought he looked like a walking Goth Christmas tree with all his paraphernalia. My accessories consisted of brushed teeth and (if I had time) combed hair.

"Whatever. Just get the tickets."

I rolled my eyes as we started toward the ticket booth. Adam had gotten to be such a pain lately. I mean, he'd always been moody, but he'd just turned so crabby. I knew it was probably because his mom was still getting letters and stuff from that guy. Even though Adam didn't talk about it much, I could tell he was really hurt.

Adam gave me his money and I went to the booth. He didn't want to go up to the window himself. Somebody might think he actually wanted to have a good time. So I spent our money and, as I was turning around and stuffing the tickets into my pocket, I heard a squirrely little voice say, "Well, if it isn't our large albino friend. Just where he belongs! In the carnies' freak show!"

I didn't even want to look to the right, which was where the voice had come from. I knew it was Dylan Doyle. There wasn't reason to make sure it was him. Since he'd messed with my house, I hadn't told anyone. For as much as I couldn't stand the little nerd, I didn't want him to get in trouble. I knew the reason now, though. I hadn't wanted to admit it at first, but I was pretty sure I'd found the story about him. In all the stacks of papers from that tree, I'd finally settled on one that had to be about Dylan. And once I'd allowed myself to believe that one was his story, I'd started to feel different about him. I'd started feeling (I hate to say it) sorry for him. I didn't want to feel that, but I couldn't help it. The story was so . . . odd. Just like with the Ham, it made me start thinking more about Dylan himself and less about the way I saw him.

So, because I didn't want to argue with him, I just kept walking. But he didn't want to give up. He followed me, and within about thirty seconds I felt a hand on my arm as it jerked me around. "Where do you think you're going?" his scrunched face snarled.

I sighed noticeably. "Look, Dylan. I don't want to mess with you. Just leave me alone."

"Oh, are you scared?"

His usual cronies hadn't followed him, I noticed. I didn't even know their names, but they'd been Dylan's sidekicks for years. They were hanging back by the ticket booth. I swept my eyes toward them, then back to Dylan. "If there's one thing I'm not, it's scared of you."

He was confused. "Huh?"

I started to turn back around. "I said I'm not scared of you. Now get lost."

"I didn't say you could leave!" he cried, pulling me back.

Now I was starting to get annoyed. "Back off, all right?"

"Give me your tickets, freak boy. All of them! I mean all of them, or I'll make you regret it."

His threat didn't phase me. I couldn't believe I'd ever been afraid to stand up to him. "No."

He shoved me in the chest and I stumbled back a step. "What'd you say? No's not an acceptable answer, jerk!"

Maybe I was just anxious to start spending my tickets, or maybe I had some sort of mean streak in me that had never shown itself so clearly before. Whatever the case, I found myself leaning closer to Dylan and saying in a voice that I could've kept quieter, "Listen, you. I said no, and I mean no. If you don't bug off I'm going to tell everyone around here that your grandma is nuts and she makes you arrange and dress her dolls—all the ones she keeps in your backyard. You know—your grandma? The one you live with? The crazy old lady who picks on you and all that?"

I knew right away that I'd been right about the story. Dylan's eyes got as wide and dark as dying light bulbs. His chin quivered like he was going to cry or something. His hands dropped down to his sides, but they weren't in fists like they usually were. They were just open fingers trembling in empty air.

I could hear Dylan's breathing, and it made me nervous suddenly. I didn't want to look at him, so I turned around and went on my way. He wasn't going to follow me, I was sure of that. I felt like a complete jerk as I walked off toward Adam, who I found leaning up against a fence with his eyes closed like he was tired of the world. And for once, I felt tired of the world along with him. Adam was probably faking it, but I sure wasn't. Sometimes one incident can turn a potentially sweet day completely sour.

I tried my best to have fun. It wasn't that hard. I didn't run into Dylan for the rest of the day, and after a ride or two, I totally forgot about him. There was a lot more to think about, like what rides to go on and what food to eat. Adam and I only had so many tickets. By the time the night started to get dark, I ran into my family members and they dealt us some more cash for tickets. Things went great. I even saw Jessie with the long brown hair from school, and although she didn't say anything, I was sure she looked in my direction at least once. After several hours of eating and flying through the air and sweating under the sun on the one day of summer that the heat didn't seem to bother me, we were ready to catch the fireworks display. My parents asked me and Adam to come sit with them and Corey, but they knew I'd tell them no, so I don't know why they asked. The two of us were going to climb up Pug Hill and watch the display from there. We'd done that for the past two years, because nobody ever sat up there and it was a perfect view. It was like an undiscovered front row seat.

Pug Hill was small, so Adam and I scaled it in less than ten minutes. It wasn't steep, either. It was just a mound of dirt and grass with some trees on it that leveled out into the park where the trailer houses were. We didn't go so far back that we were around the trailers. They were kind of creepy. Like, druggies and other weirdos lived in them. Different people were always coming and going. It wasn't a real safe place, so I didn't tell my mom or dad where exactly we were headed.

Adam and I stretched out on the grass and cooled off in the nine o'clock darkness. It was nice not to feel the sun on our burnt skin. I guessed we had about ten or fifteen minutes to go (I didn't wear a watch).

"Good stuff," Adam said into the night.

"We have a perfect view," I added.

For about three minutes, it was just us, the carnival lights below, and the silence. It was awesome. Then some noise reached our ears. It was the hissing and popping of fireworks, but they weren't from below. They were practically right behind us. They were right behind us! I shot off the ground as something landed in the grass right next to my shoulder. I got up just in time, too; the thing popped about three seconds after I backed away from it.

"What the—!" Adam jumped up too.

Something whizzed through the air like a firefly with rocket boosters. There was no light to see by except for the moon, so we weren't sure what it was. It sliced the air right between me and Adam, shooting only about two feet off the ground. Then it torpedoed upward and burst into a small starlight against the blackened sky. The sound of it was familiar. Every kid on the planet would've recognized it.

"Holy crap . . . they're bottle rockets!" I cried.

Adam ducked as another one came our way. "What the hell are they doing coming at us?"

"I don't know!" I practically shouted. Those things could be dangerous. Voices called out from about thirty feet off to the left. I had an idea of where they were coming from. "The storm pipes down by the creek!" I said in a hurry. "Come on!"

Now, a smarter couple of seventh graders would've run away from where a load of bottle rockets were originating, but not me and Adam. We went straight toward them, anxious to see what was going on. When we reached the creek, we tried our best to protect ourselves by lowering behind a pile of rocks. It was hard to see, but we could easily tell that we were in the middle of some serious action. Tall black figures darted across the fields and down into the creek. Guys' voices shouted and screamed. Rockets fizzled in so many directions it was difficult to tell if any were coming at us. We closed our eyes more than once. And down in the opening of the big storm pipe was what looked like a barricade made of old tires. We could only see it because several bottle rockets shot toward it at once and smashed against the rubber, sparking all over the place.

"What're they doing?" I heard myself ask.

"Duh, Cole," said Adam. But he didn't say more than that, so I knew he didn't know any more than I did what was going on.

We sat and watched for about ten minutes. Some guy tripped over us and fell into the creek once, but he must've figured we were part of the landscape because he didn't do anything. When the blue and red lights of a cop car started flashing on the road that crossed over the monstrous storm pipe, though, we agreed it was time to go.

"Coppers! Retreat!" we heard one guy yell.

Adam and I thought it sounded a lot like the voice of Troy McDermott. Then shadowy people were running all around us and we were rushing to stay ahead. Police lights shone and voices started shouting and it was chaos—pure chaos. Flying across the grass like blind animals. The sounds of feet and freaked out guys echoing into the night. I'd never run so fast in my life. Adam and I reached the edge of Pug Hill where it dipped downward towards the carnival ground and leapt over it without even thinking. For what felt like half a minute, we soared through the air and into the fireworks that were bursting against the sky at least half a mile away, limbs flailing and hearts pounding like they were going to bust out of our ribs. Next came contact with the ground and rolling over and over and over again until we could regain our footing (which I was surprised we managed to do) and then running some more. All the way down the rest of Pug Hill and into the carnival grounds where we mingled breathlessly with people sitting on blankets and eating popcorn and snow cones.