"Don't rub your arm," Robby said, leaning against the pear tree. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"I know," George muttered. He looked into the late afternoon sky and blinked at the sun.

"Don't do that, stupid! You'll go blind."

"Stop telling me what to do!" George hugged his knees to his chin and stared hard at the patched, desperate grass.

"Hey, I'm older than you." Robby lightly smacked his cheek with the back of his hand. "I can do whatever I want."

"No, you can't!" George said. "If you hit me one more time, I'm telling Mom and Dad. I'll tell them everything!"

Robby stifled his next outburst and looked around the backyard. "Look at this grass."

"You were supposed to plant the grass seeds," George said. "Back in the spring." He pointed at the giant sack of seed slumped against the back fence. "Mom told Dad, and Dad told you."

"Like Mom and Dad have time to notice." Robby laughed and pointed at a small patch of fading green plants in a far corner of the yard. "Look at that vegetable garden Mom started. You can't even tell the weeds from the vegetables anymore. Last week I pulled up a carrot and it was all skinny and shriveled and gray, like an old man's dick."

"I don't like carrots anyway," George said morosely.

"This ain't gonna last forever," Robby told him. "Okay?" He crouched down beside his brother. "You looking forward to your birthday, George? One week from today."

"On Thursday. Grady comes on Mondays and Thursdays now."

"It was only this one time!" Robby said. "You heard Grady."

"Grady's a big fat liar!" George snapped.

Robby cursed, stood up, and threw something into the vegetable garden. "Will you listen for once? I told him, 'Hey, next Thursday George turns the big one-oh, that's double digits, and we have a big day planned and everything.'"

"Sure. Sure you did."

"I did! And I told him he couldn't come over at all, even if he doesn't need blood. I said it would ruin your big birthday party."

"He'll come," George said. "He'll come anyway."

"No he won't. I told you, Mom and Dad have a big day planned out." Robby looked toward the house and added in a low tone, "I've already seen your present. Guess what it is."

George made a noise and threw a stone at the garden. "Ow!"

"Cut it out, will you?" Robby said impatiently. "Your arm still can't hurt that much."

"I've still got the splinter." George held up his arm. "See?"

Robby gently took his arm. "It's not that big. Hold still." With practiced ease, he gripped the end of the splinter and pulled it out. "There. No problem."

George blew out a relieved breath. "You're good," he said. "Dad can't do it without hurting me." He squinted at his elbow. "It's not even bleeding."

"You better go inside and wash it so it don't get infected."

"I will," George said, rubbing his elbow. He then straightened out his arm, and both boys looked at the marks on the inside of his arm.

"Grady's my best friend in the world," Robby said suddenly. "He's always looked out for me, especially at school."

"He's a shit," George said.

Robby stared at him. "What did you say?"

"Shit." George wrapped his tongue around the forbidden word. "Grady's a shit."

"Take it back." Robby grabbed his arm and squeezed. "I mean it!"

"No! Let go!" George's arm started throbbing intensely, and he tried pulling away as hard as he could. Robby abruptly let him go, and he tumbled over.

"You stink," he said with a sob.

"You're such a baby." Robby looked at the sack of grass seeds, unconsciously imitating its slump. "I always haveta look out for you."

George sat up and brushed dirt off his face. "You're just as bad as they are."

"Don't say that! It's not true!"

"You are," George said. "You and Grady both." He got up and ran into the house.

"Take it back," Robby said behind him. "You hear me?"

The following afternoon, Robby and George were playing catch in the street. They were throwing the baseball Robby had caught for George during the league playoffs last summer. One of Robby's tosses went high over George's head. He ran backwards to catch it, tripped on a pothole, and fell down hard. Robby ran to his side, screaming for Dad. He had to scream several times because Dad was in his office with the door closed, writing a script for some video his company was making.

George sat on the living room floor, one hand clamped over a puffing eye. His stomach hurt and there was a large cut on his left leg.

"Georgie! What happened? Let me look at your eye." Dad patiently peeled George's hand off his eye and squinted at it. "Oh, boy. You're gonna have a real shiner there, sport."

"Look at his leg!" Robby cried. "He's bleeding!"

"Take it easy, Rob! Go into the kitchen and get some paper towels and the antiseptic. And some bandages."

"Call Mom at work," Robby said. "We need her."

"We don't need Mom, and will you please do what I asked for once?" Dad watched Robby stumble into the kitchen and shook his head. Then he looked at George and smiled. Today he looked bigger and stronger, and the brown in his eyes was deeper. "This cut isn't as bad as it looks. I think you've stopped bleeding already."

"Here you are, Dad," Robby said, giving him a fistful of towels and a bottle of antiseptic.

"Don't worry, sport," Dad said to George. "You'll be all right." He squeezed George's arm right where Grady had taken the blood, and George jerked. "Are you hurt there?" Dad asked him. "That bruise looks tender."

George shook his head, and Robby started crying. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm real sorry, okay? I shoulda been there. I shoulda done something."

Dad's mouth tightened as he applied the antiseptic. "It's all right," he said without looking up. "There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Open your mouth, kid."

Grady's older friend looked like he could throw up any time he wanted. He had stringy blond hair, hazed-over eyes and bad teeth, and he smelled funny. His shirt and pants were too big, or maybe his body was too skinny.

"C'mon, kid," he said. "'S okay, I'm Grady's friend. Open your mouth for Grady's friend, okay?" His smile, with its broken shuttered teeth, was easy and likable. George smiled back.

"Okay, do what I do." The man put his face to George's, opened his eyes wide and rolled his head back and forth. "Seesaw, Margerie Daw," he sang as he looked into George's eyes. George didn't know the words, so he opened his eyes as wide as he could to make up for it.

"Finest kind, kid!" the man exclaimed. "Now can you pull your jaw down like this?" He pretended to pull his jaw open, and he made a sound. George laughed and imitated him.

"Keep doin' it, pal." The man put his two index fingers inside George's mouth and quickly ran them over his gums and teeth. "You brush your teeth ev'ry day now, hear?" he laughed. "Okay, kid, let's scope your muscles. Hey!" He took George's arm and lightly squeezed it in several places, then pinched the skin on his arms and his cheek.

Grady, smoking a cigarette, was crouched just inside the door. "So what d'you think?" he asked nervously. "Is he still in?"

"Does this hurt?" asked the man as he tugged at George's ear.

"Ow!" George said.

"Sorry, little guy," the man said. "Yeah," he told Grady, "he's okay. Keep it comin'."

Grady breathed out as he stood up and dusted off his pants. "I knew it," he said, "see, I told you he was still okay. That asshole at the lab was a lying sack of shit."

"Don't cop a sweat, man. Missal's just lookin' out for the company. That's his job."

"The 'company.'" Grady's laugh was harsh. "Shit."

The door squeaked open and Robby peeked in. The shed was small, so he'd had to stand outside and listen. "What did you say?" he asked Grady nervously. "You took George's blood to a lab?"

"Quality control, guy," the man told him. "It's S.O.P. You still get your money."

"What money?" Robby shrilled. "We don't get no money!"

"Money?" George echoed, looking wide-eyed at the man.

"You ain't payin' this boy?" the man asked Grady.

"No, I ain't!" Grady shrieked. "His brother owes me big! They both do!" He hissed out the last smoke from his cigarette and pitched the butt at Robby, who quickly closed the door.

The man snorted. "That'sa way, huh?" He smiled at George again and ruffled his hair good-naturedly. "Some bleed and some get bled, ain't it so?"

"You're goddamn right it's so," Grady snarled.

George sat at the top of the stairs in his pajamas and tried to hang on to the banister. He had been feeling woozy ever since Grady's visit earlier that day, and he wanted to go to sleep. But he'd heard Mom come home, and now she and Dad were in the living room talking.

"I should have been home," Mom was saying. "I'm never home."

"You can't always be home," he heard Dad say gently.

Mom sighed. "At least you're home two days a week."

"And I had to work long and hard for the privilege. Remember?"

"I know, I know you did." Mom sounded like Robby did when he didn't want to be lectured.

"I'm sorry," Dad said.

"My little baby," Mom sighed after a moment.

George winced. He hated it when she called him that. He tried to grip the banister more tightly, but he knew he couldn't.

"It's the world," Dad was saying. "It's the way things are."

"Oh, why do you have to talk like that?" Mom suddenly snapped. "Why does everyone have to be so passive about everything?"

"Honey," Dad said. "Honey, please." George hugged his knees to his chest. Every time Mom and Dad argued, Dad would always say the wrong things and make it worse.

But Mom didn't say anything back this time, and then Dad didn't say anything, either. Suddenly, George wasn't even sure they were still down there. He stood up too quickly, and almost fell over.

"George!" Mom called out. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," George said. His head felt very light, like a balloon floating away.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Dad said. "Get back to your room."

"Are you all right, honey?" Mom said. "Is everything okay?"

George looked down the stairs. There was a slice of light coming from the living room. The light was like life in the darkness; it led to Mom and Dad, wherever they were. He wanted to fall into the light very much. "I'm okay," he said.