It was never meant to be a real party. “Just cake and ice cream,” Palmer’s mother had said, “that’s all.” She did not want “those little hoodlums,” as she called them, in her house any longer than necessary.
The boys dragged out the cake and ice cream as long as they could. Beans and Mutto kept leaving their chairs and wandering around and flopping on furniture. Palmer’s mother kept shooing them back to the table.
“I guess you’re done now,” she said, anxious to shoo them out the door.
“More ice cream,” they said.
And then Beans started having to go to the bathroom, or so he said. He made three trips upstairs, probably spying on Palmer’s room. As he headed up the stairs for his fourth trip, Palmer’s mother grabbed his arm and announced, “Okay, boys, party’s over. Time to go out and enjoy the summer sunshine.”
As the guys left, Henry surprised Palmer’s mother by saying thank you for the party. “Yeah,” Palmer called back, “thanks, Mom.”
Palmer brought out his new black-and-white soccer ball. Beans snatched it from him and booted it into the back of Mutto’s head. Mutto squawked, and the two of them rumbled onto the sidewalk. Beans and Mutto rumbled several times every day. Each rumble lasted about twenty seconds, with both claiming victory.
The ball bounced down the street and into a neighbor’s front yard. The front yards along Palmer’s street were very small, about the size of a blanket. The grass was neatly trimmed, and almost every yard had a border of flowers. Most of the houses were gray.
Henry chased down the ball and kicked it back up the street. Henry always looked funny running, all arms and legs. He was by far the tallest of the group.
Beans said, “Which one is Fishface’s house?”
Palmer did not want to say, but Beans was looking straight at him. “I’m not sure,” he answered.
“Not sure?” Beans gave a smirk. “Guess I gotta start yelling then.” He cupped his hands and yelled at the top of his lungs: “Fishface! Fishface! Fishface!”
Palmer pointed to the house directly across the street from his. “That one.”
Beans stepped up to the house and shouted: “Fishface! Fishface!”
Palmer cringed.
No one came to the door, no window curtain stirred.
“Okay, Fishface, you asked for it!” Beans turned to Mutto and Henry. “Let’s leave her a little present.”
They searched the gutter.
“Sewer grate!” piped Mutto. The three of them raced to the nearest grate.
Fishface was Beans’s name for Dorothy Gruzik. Beans and the guys hated Dorothy and harassed her whenever they got the chance. Palmer had never understood why, though now that he was one of them, maybe he would find out. Maybe now he could finally find a fish in her face.
Palmer’s mother had been trying to push Dorothy and him together as friends for years. Palmer had never been much interested. For one thing, Dorothy was a girl. Plus she was in a lower grade and a whole year younger than he.
The guys returned from the sewer grate with something in a plastic bag.
“Just mud and sticks,” said Beans glumly. He went to Dorothy Gruzik’s house and dumped it on the top step. His face brightened. “Maybe they’ll think it’s poop.”
He rang the bell, banged on the door, and everyone took off. It was the first time Palmer had ever run with the gang. He felt shivers of excitement. He screamed and beat them all to the corner.