“Fraternity,” Mason said. “It’s worse—it means we collude, party hearty, and cheat on the exams.”
Craig wheeled the car around in the driveway and started down the mountain. Marci sat in the front seat. “The best thing you can do with a beautiful new house like this is leave it,” Craig said. “It makes you a king.”
“Who is talking like this?” Marci said.
Mason sat in back with Kathleen and Larry. Frank and Sonny, who had been waiting in his idling Explorer, followed. The guitars and gear were stowed along with everyone’s bags and two coolers full of drinks and lunch and candy.
“You in, Larry? Dr. Marchant’s guesthouse. I’m doubling what you make at the store.”
“He’s got school,” Marci said. “He doesn’t want to be on a roof in the snow.”
“The great drama of American football is over, Mom. High school is closing down a chapter at a time. I’ll have hours.”
“‘Ralston and Son Construction. Guesthouses, add-ons, decks, garages. The best work in Wyoming.’”
Larry said, “What about ‘Two Guys with Hammers’?”
“Or,” Mason said, “‘Son and Ralston.’ I’ve never seen that, some kid carrying his father. You guys could make it work.” They wended through the frigid town to the highway and turned north past the hill and the cemetery and the ruined weed lots and wasteland and the turnoff of the reservoir, driving north under low clouds that all afternoon worked at a layer of pale yellow light between the dark sky and the dark earth, a car or two hurrying back toward Oakpine in the empty world.
“Seriously,” Larry said to Mason. “You’ve just landed on this planet, and we’ve picked you up as you look confused standing beside the highway. Now, look at it, sir. Those lines are the railroad, the rest is about to be snowed on. We have snow here. We have winter here. If you can see a bush big enough to hide behind, you can imagine an antelope hiding behind it. We have antelope on this planet. I’d like your answer now: do you want to stay?”
Mason smiled. “It’s a cold night coming on. But I’ll need to know one thing: what’s an antelope?”
Kathleen laughed, and Larry said, “See. You get out of town twenty minutes, and it’s a planet with real short days and long wind. It’s getting dark already.”
“They’ll have that big bar all warmed up,” Mason said. “Ask me then.”
Craig was slowly shaking his head.
“What?” Marci said.
“Oh my dear,” he said. “Battle of the bands. What are we doing?”
“When was the last time anybody did one extra thing, something weird? Something not pragmatic?” The dash lights glowed, and the heater warmed the vehicle as it was swallowed by the closing weather and the heavy winter twilight.
“I went—” Craig started.
“Not a fishing trip,” Kathleen said. “Something like this, a bona fide extra. Or are you planning on winning this thing and restarting your musical career?”
“Now she knows,” Craig said. “Hardware was fun for a while, but get real. That trophy is going to look good in the front window of the store.”
“I wish Jimmy could have come,” Marci said. The car was quiet, and after half a minute Larry said, “I’m going to give him the report, which means you better all behave.”
Jimmy’s name had come over the car, and in the dark day they drove quietly through the plains. Larry had visited the little garage the day before and, with the Fender guitar, had shown Jimmy his four new chords, playing the muted strings in the gray light. Unplugged like that, it sounded like a ukulele. When he looked up, Jimmy was out, his neck arched back as if in pain. Larry checked his breathing and was relieved when Kathleen arrived. She checked Jimmy’s vital signs while Larry watched. She adjusted Jimmy on the pillow and arranged the covers and left without speaking. Larry quickly followed her into the winter afternoon. “What?” he had said.