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  "I will," nodded Dave.

  "Are you still thinking about Penn State?" asked Mom.

  "Mm-hm," Dave grunted through a mouthful of chicken.

  "Well, we ought to drive up there sometime and talk to some people," she continued.

  Giving up on trying to watch TV, Dave swung his feet from the sofa to the floor and turned to his parents. "I can't do that for a while," he told them, setting his plate on the coffee table. "I've got classes during the day and work at night, and I'm sure the offices up there aren't open weekends."

  "You'll just have to fit it in somehow," said Ann. "You can't keep putting it off."

  "Well, I'll have to see," sighed Dave.

  "Tell you what," pressed Mom. "We'll pick a day for next week or the week after, and then we can all arrange to get that day off work."

  "Good idea," agreed Dad, scratching the curly salt-and-pepper hair over one ear. He was mostly bald, except for a fringe running above his ears and around the back of his head.

  "Jeff ought to go, too," nodded Mom, looking at her other son. "We've been meaning to take him up to Penn State anyway, so we could kill two birds with one stone."

  "Huh?" grunted Jeff, eyes glued to the TV. Apparently, he hadn't yet heard a single word of the conversation going on around him, and had only stirred at the mention of his name.

  "We were just talking about going to Penn State for a day, so Dave can look into grad school. We were saying that we should take you along, since you're thinking about going there." There was a trace of annoyance in Mom's voice, a hint of irritation at having to repeat herself for Jeff's benefit.

  "I don't know," muttered Jeff, still concentrating on the TV. "I'll have to see what's going on." His disinterested tone made it clear that he didn't want to be bothered. The seventeen-year-old didn't seem to care at all about college, though his parents frequently pressed him to make plans for a college career. He had other things on his mind nowadays, like hanging out with his friends and having fun and chasing girls. Bob and Ann thought he ran around too much, and they wished that he would work harder in school, because he was only pulling a "C"-average. Since Dave had always gotten "A's" and "B's" in school, Mom and Dad expected the same from Jeff.

  "I'm sure you can spare one day to go with us," said Mom.

  "I said I don't know," resisted Jeff, shifting restlessly on the loveseat. Testily, he dropped his empty dinner plate to the carpet, then dug down into the cushions and folded his arms across his chest. Too tall to stretch out on the loveseat, he had to lie with his legs bent and knees in the air.

  "When we go up there, you're going with us," Mom declared firmly. "It won't hurt you to spend one day looking around a college."

  "Mom!" Jeff snapped curtly. "Don't push me! I said I'll have to let you know, all right?"

  "Hey! Don't talk to your mother like that," ordered Dad, raising his voice.

  "I'm just trying to watch TV here!" flouted Jeff, flapping his hands at the set. "I can't even hear what's going on!"

  "Calm yourself down," Dad said threateningly. "You don't need to get all bent out of shape just because we want you to do something with the rest of the family for once."

  "I'm not getting bent out of shape!" hollered Jeff. "You're the one who's getting bent out of shape!"

  As Jeff and Dad bickered, Dave sighed deeply and adopted a weary expression. Arguments between his brother and father happened often, and he was tired of listening to them. Though the fights were only shouting matches and never came to blows, they seemed to erupt every time that Jeff and Dad were in the same room for more than five minutes.

  Since the age of fifteen, Jeff had grown progressively more rebellious; he'd always been high-strung and precocious, but after reaching fifteen, he'd become downright volatile. Willful and cranky and argumentative, he disputed every suggestion or request from the rest of the family with angry fervor. He resented every intrusion on his privacy and independence, overreacted to every question that his parents asked.

  Despite his hot temper and moodiness, though, Jeff wasn't really a bad kid. He sometimes made life miserable for the family, and he was awfully irresponsible, but Dave still liked him. Dave believed that Jeff was just at a difficult age, an age when touchiness and hostility were the norms; he recalled that when he himself had been sixteen, he'd behaved in much the same way, but had mellowed with time.

  Dave sincerely believed that his brother would do likewise, that he would eventually straighten up and his better qualities would come to the forefront. Unfortunately, it didn't seem likely that this change would occur in the near future.

  It definitely wouldn't happen tonight.

  "I told you," hollered Dad, leaning forward on the recliner. "You're going with us!"

  "Did I say I didn't want to go?" Jeff flung sarcastically. "No! All I said was that I don't know if I can make it!"

  "What else would you be doing on a weekday?" barked Dad. "The only thing you should be doing then is going to school!"

  "There, see? If I've got school, then how am I gonna' go with you guys? I know you don't want me to skip a day of school!"

  "We'll go when you have a short Friday," interjected Mom. "You'll be done with school by noon, and then we'll pick you up."

  "What if I have to work?" asked Jeff.

  "You don't even have a job!" shouted Dad.

  "Not yet," barked Jeff, "but I will! I already put my application in at a bunch of places in the Mall! You rather I don't get a job, just so I can go to State College with you guys?"

  "Now you're being ridiculous," sighed Ann Heinrich, shaking her head. "Stop making such a big production out of this."

  "You're the ones who're making a big production outta' this!" Jeff yelled.

  Though he didn't want to get dragged into the fray, Dave finally spoke up. "Hey, look," he said sharply. "I didn't even say for sure that I could go! Nothing's definite, Jeff!"

  "Well, it sounds definite!" lashed Jeff, his face flushed. "The way these two are talking, everything was settled before I could even say whether I wanted to go or not! You guys always do that to me!"

  "What? What do we always do to you?" By now, Dad was furious, his usual amiable expression replaced by a fiery, tense grimace. He looked as if he was ready to leap from the recliner and sock his youngest son in the mouth (though of course he'd never directed such violence at his family and probably never would).

  "You tell me what I'm gonna' do before you even ask me about it!" hurled Jeff, angrily yanking off his glasses. "It's like it doesn't matter what I think about anything!"

  "That's crap and you know it!" snarled Dad.

  "See?" bellowed Jeff, accusingly pointing a finger at his father. "That's what I'm talking about! You never listen to me!"

  "Oh, brother," grunted Mom, rolling her eyes.

  Finally deciding that he'd heard enough, Dave got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. As his brother and parents continued their combat, he scraped the chicken bones from his plate into the garbage. Opening the dishwasher, he placed the plate and silverware and glass on the racks inside.

  As the living room ruckus escalated, Dave realized that he didn't want to stick around for the rest of the festivities. If he stayed in the house for the remainder of the evening, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his studies; the thick atmosphere of tension would distract him, as would the noise of slamming doors and stomping feet. He had to abandon ship, seek a more hospitable and relaxing location, a place where he wouldn't be trapped in close quarters with a bunch of angry people.

  He decided to drive out to Billy's trailer. As long as Billy wasn't entertaining some girl, Dave could stop in and get some work done. Since he and Billy were in some of the same classes, they had the same exams to prepare for, so they could study together. They could drink some beer and eat some chips and compare notes, even shoot the breeze some, maybe plan the next party for the Wild West gang.

  Dave left the kitchen and hurried through the living room, moving fast enough to
keep from being drawn into the battle. He swept down the short hallway to his bedroom, tossed some books and notebooks into his blue knapsack. Next, he grabbed his keys from the desk and shouldered into his winter jacket. He flicked off the bedroom light and made his escape from the house without having to say more than a few words to his folks.

  As he settled into his car, he felt immensely relieved. He really did care about his parents and brother, but on a night like this, he preferred to be far away from them...a fifteen-minute drive away from them, anyway.

  *****

  Chapter 9

  Billy lived in Barton, a rural area bordering Highland Township, the Confluence suburb in which Dave lived. The sprawl of fast-food restaurants and shopping centers and housing developments which blanketed Highland hadn't yet enveloped Barton, had only nicked it. Barton was still girdled with forests and rolling farmland, only interrupted occasionally by clusters of houses and trailers. Billy Bristol inhabited one such trailer, a metal box in a roadside clearing surrounded by woods.

  The site wasn't far from Ernie Dumbrowski's home; in fact, Billy lived less than a mile up the road from Ernie. Originally, Billy had lived with his family in a house on the other side of Barton; in his junior year of high school, though, his father, an insurance salesman, had been transferred to Pittsburgh, and the whole family had gone with him...except Billy. Unwilling to leave all his friends and girlfriends behind, Billy had chosen to stay in Barton and had convinced his parents to go without him. A friend of his mother had agreed to rent him the trailer for a very small fee, and Billy had lived there ever since. With his wages from the Wild West Steakhouse, and occasional contributions from his parents, he'd gotten along just fine on his own. Though the trailer was old and rather shabby, he seemed to like it, if for no other reason than that it was his very own personal bachelor pad.

  Glad to have escaped his feuding family, Dave Heinrich guided his brown Ford Torino up the short gravel drive to Billy's trailer. Lights glowed in the trailer's windows, and the silver Honda at the end of the drive also signaled that Billy was home. Since there were no other vehicles around, Billy was probably alone.

  Parking behind the Honda, Dave plucked his knapsack from the floor and rose from the Torino. It was a cold night, cold enough for him to see the fog of his breath as he strolled to the trailer's front door, cold enough to let him know that Spring wouldn't arrive any time soon. At least it was clear and the moon was bright enough to cast up warning gleams from the patches of ice on the sidewalk.

  Dave boosted himself up the set of cinder blocks which served as steps to the front stoop, a square slab of concrete atop more blocks. Knocking twice on the door, he immediately heard footsteps approaching from inside the trailer.

  In a flash, the door sprang open and Billy appeared, dressed in his Wild West uniform. As always, he sported the patented Bristol grin, that easy-going, friendly smile with a stream of mirth and mischief glittering just beneath the surface.

  "Hey!" chirped Billy, his grin widening at the sight of his pal. "Davey-boy! What's up, man?"

  "Not much," said Dave. "What're you up to?"

  "Just hangin' out, havin' a couple beers. What brings you out this way?"

  "Aw, my family's going at it again," sighed Dave. "I needed to do some studying, and I needed some peace and quiet, so I thought I'd drop in."

  "Peace and quiet?" laughed Billy. "Here?"

  "Well," grinned Dave, "I figured maybe we could hash out some of this stuff together, you know? I mean, we both have tests coming up, so it wouldn't hurt to do some studying tonight."

  "Hey, good plan," nodded Billy. "I was gonna' do some studying tonight, anyway. We'll have to hit the books later, though, 'cause I've got company."

  "Oh, really?" said Dave, disappointment shading his voice. "I'm sorry. I should've called first. I was just in too much of a hurry to get out of the house."

  "No problem," Billy said blithely, dismissing Dave's apology with a wave of his wiry hand. "It's no big deal."

  Turning, Dave started for his car. "I'm sorry about this. I'll just call you later and maybe stop back then."

  "No no," said Billy, slipping to one side of the doorway and gesturing for Dave to enter. "Come on in, man. It's okay."

  "I can come back later," Dave assured him. "It's really no problem. I'll just head over to the library for a while."

  "Get in here," smirked Billy, pulling Dave by the shoulder. "I told you, it's okay. It's just somebody from work, man."

  "Well, if you're sure it's okay," Dave said hesitantly.

  "Just come on," laughed Billy, yanking Dave through the doorway.

  Awkwardly, Dave stumbled into the warm trailer. As Billy shut the door, Dave quickly scanned the place, only to be surprised by the familiar face in Billy's kitchen.

  Seated at the kitchen table, a beer can in his hand, Larry Smith smiled back at him.

  "Hey!" called Larry. "Dave! How're you doing?"

  "Not bad," Dave answered with a smile, feeling a bit off-balance. Though he was happy to see the new co-worker, Larry was the last person he would have expected to meet in Billy's trailer. Larry had only been working at the steakhouse since the day before, so it was strange to see him already in the lair of the Wild West gang's inner circle.

  "So, Davey-boy," said Billy, ambling into the kitchen space. "Larry was telling me how you guys beat that big rush yesterday."

  "Right," said Dave. "It sure was a killer."

  "Aw, it wasn't bad," chuckled Larry. "We could've handled it with both hands tied behind our backs. We're professionals."

  "Dave? A professional?" winced Billy. "Are you sure you're talking about this Dave?"

  "None other," nodded Larry, raising his beer as if in a toast. "He's a trooper, all right. He did most of the work."

  "No no," Dave corrected modestly. "You did most of the work."

  "Now that I can believe," ribbed Billy, smirking as he opened the refrigerator.

  "Up yours, pal," cracked Dave, accepting the beer that Billy offered over the refrigerator door. "You've never done a hard day's work in your life."

  "Oh yes, I have," grinned Billy. "Every time I work with you, I've gotta' work ten times harder to make up for your slackin'!"

  "Ten times harder?" flagged Dave, dropping his knapsack onto a kitchen chair. "Big deal. Ten times zero is still zero."

  "If you think I work zero," zapped Billy, "then you must be in the negative numbers!"

  "Well," interrupted Larry. "From what I've seen so far, I'd say both you guys do a hell of a job. Seems like you two work harder than anyone in the place."

  "I'll go along with that," laughed Billy, throwing himself onto one of the chairs. "You know, you're pretty smart there, Larry."

  "I just call 'em like I see 'em," said Larry, scratching his sandy goatee. "I tell it like it is."

  "Man, that's a switch," chuckled Billy. "Most people tell it like it isn't."

  "Not me," stated Larry, wagging his head. "I always lay it on the line. I don't play head games."

  "So, did you guys come right over after work?" asked Dave, cracking open his beer.

  "No," Billy clucked sardonically. "We always hang around in our steakhouse uniforms."

  "Aw, you know what I meant," said Dave.

  "Yeah," nodded Larry. "Billy invited me over after we punched out. The steakhouse was dead, so Tom let us both go at seven-thirty."

  "We just got here a couple minutes before you," added Billy.

  "That's something, huh?" said Dave. "One night, the place is a madhouse, and the next night it's dead. Naturally, I got the busiest night."

  "It must've been you," quipped Billy. "All those people showed up just because they knew you were working last night."

  "I wouldn't be surprised," said Dave. "They probably all got together and decided to make my life miserable. Then when I'm not there, everybody stays away."

  "Well, they probably knew I was cooking tonight," grinned Billy. "They knew their steaks would be like sho
e leather."

  "I wouldn't say shoe leather," Dave said thoughtfully. "More like, uh...tar paper. Either tar paper or emery board."

  "Tree bark," Billy said decisively. "More like tree bark."

  "You guys're nuts," laughed Larry. "Your steaks were the best I've had in a long time, Billy."

  "Hey, how do you know how they tasted?" Dave shot with feigned suspicion. "You weren't eating company food on company time, were you?"

  "I sure was," Larry nodded proudly. "The place was so dead tonight, Billy got bored, so he put his time to good use by practicing his cooking. He whipped up some great steaks, and he couldn't just throw them away, could he?"

  "I couldn't waste all that meat," beamed Billy.

  "I figured I'd do Billy a favor, so I ate whatever he brought back to the dishroom. It took some doing, but I managed to eat every single steak he practiced on."

  "Well, gee," said Dave. "That was mighty decent of you , Larry. Not everybody would've helped Billy out like that, y'know."

  "I believe in going that extra mile," smiled Larry. "If one of my co-workers needs a helping hand, I'll always be the first to volunteer."

  "If it hadn't been for Larry," continued Billy, "I don't know what I'd've done. He really came through for me, man."

  "It was my pleasure," sighed Larry, running a hand over his crew-cut. "That porterhouse was perfect. It just melted in my mouth."

  "There, ya' see?" smirked Billy. "All that practice was worth it! It helped me perfect my technique, so I can cook even better for the customers!"

  "Too bad the managers don't see it that way," Dave said wistfully. "If they'd just get with the program, we wouldn't have to sneak around behind their backs whenever we want to practice on some steaks."

  "Y'know," said Larry, "restaurants are the same all over. Every place I've worked, people would take food when the bosses weren't looking."

  "Why not, right?" grinned Billy. "I mean, considering what they pay us, we might as well chow down once in a while. It's a fringe benefit, man."