"I'm not going to punish you," said Rickey's mom. "But this does not bode well for my willingness to trust you with responsibility."

The rest of us were still looking for Ricky's glasses. I was half-way under the conifer beside the porch and it was real dark down there. I looked for a while then gave up, but stayed under the tree and turned around on my back. The bristles blocked out the sun but it was cloudy so it didn't matter.

I could still hear voices. Ricky was whining at his mother, saying the words "not fair" using three syllables. The Hobb brothers were across the yard and from the cackles they made had found a frog.

It sure was nice under the tree. The air was cool and dark enough that you could open or close your eyes and it was the same either way. For a while I left them open and things got real quiet and I swear the tree and sky turned the same dead white.

An hour later we were inside playing bean bags and could tell that Ricky had been crying. Ricky's mom was looking for his old thick-rims and she yelled at us whenever the game got too loud.