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me?”
    â€œA better question is ‘Why you?’ What makes you think that you’re better than everybody else? What makes you think you can make it when nobody else can? You think you’re better than everybody else?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œThen maybe you
are
a loser,” Timmy said.
    â€œScrew you!”
    â€œNo thanks, you’re not my type.”
    â€œScrew off!” I yelled, and then I turned and started walking away.
    â€œReal clever!” Timmy screamed. “That’s the type of language I think of when I think of an engineer!”
    I kept walking, not looking back, but I held up one hand with the middle finger raised.
    â€œHey!” Timmy yelled. “I got just one question!”
    I stopped and turned around. “Yeah? What is it?”
    â€œBobby’s older brother got him a two-four of brew. Me and him talked about splitting it. We’re gonna meet up behind the power plant around seven. You coming?”
    I wanted to tell him to screw off again. I wanted to go back and knock that knife out of his hand and smack him across the face. I wanted to do a lot of things.
    â€œI’ll see you at seven,” I said, and then I turned and walked away.
    â€œAnd don’t be too late or there’ll just be empty bottles for you to sniff!”
    I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.
    â€œHey, Jay!” Timmy screamed, and I looked back over my shoulder. “Thanks for the breakfast, man!”

 
Chapter Three
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    W HEN I OPENED THE DOOR I could hear music and smell oatmeal cooking. Both were sure signs that my mother was awake and up.
    â€œHello!” I yelled out.
    â€œGood morning, Jay!” she answered. “Come and join me for breakfast!”
    â€œI’ve already eaten!” I said and continued up the stairs.
    â€œHang on!” she yelled.
    I stopped on the top step and she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing a ratty old housecoat and her hair was in curlers.
    â€œI want to talk. Come and sit with me while I eat.”
    I never liked those
I want to talk
conversations. That never signalled anything good. I paused for a second, and then thumped back down the stairs.
    â€œTake it easy!” my mother said. “I want you to come
down
the stairs, not
through
the stairs!”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œThere’s enough to fix up around here without you breaking the stairs.”
    â€œIf I broke ’em, I’d fix ’em,” I said as I continued down at a more gentle pace.
    She met me at the bottom with a hug. I figured I was getting too big to be hugged all the time, but it still felt good. Besides, a hug meant that whatever she wanted to talk about wasn’t something I’d done wrong.
    â€œI know you’d fix them. I don’t know what we’d do if you weren’t here to do all the work that needs to be done.”
    She let me go and I followed her down the hall to the kitchen. There was oatmeal bubbling away on the stove and a lit cigarette perched in an ashtray on the table.
    â€œI thought you were quitting,” I said as I walked over and turned down the radio. Country music gave me a headache
and
indigestion.
    â€œI did quit.” She gave a sad little smile. “I quit between each cigarette.”
    â€œThat wasn’t even funny the first time I heard it.”
    â€œIt’s not easy.” She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. “That was my last one, promise.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned her.
    â€œThis time is different. I’m trying something new.”
    â€œI thought you’d already tried everything . . . gum, nicotine patches, acupuncture.”
    â€œHypnosis . . . I’m going to be hypnotized.”
    â€œYou’re joking, right?”
    â€œNo. There’s a hypnotist performing in the lounge this week. He’s really very nice,