Before Pete can register what is happening to him, he is being yanked into the harsh glare.
"What are you doing—that hurts!"
"Aww, everything hurts you. We’ve got what’s called a situation here."
"A situation?"
Russell drapes both wrists over his friend’s shoulders. "Do you still have your bow and arrow set? What I mean is, is it here—at your house?"
Pete backs up. Russell’s arms fall. "Yeah. What about it? Why are you acting all weird?"
Russell forces a deep breath, expels it. "I guess I am a little worked up. Kid, I just saw something you’ve got to see."
"What?" Pete asks.
"You have to wait till we get there."
"But I’m studying."
"Take a break," Russell says, tossing an imaginary book over his shoulder.
"I can’t. I need to study."
"I’m only asking for thirty minutes of your time," Russell appeases. "I need a second opinion on something."
"On what?" Then, answering his own question: "Let me guess: it has something to do with what you want to show me?"
"Correctomundo."
"Why did you ask about my bow? You’re not taking me to see a rabid dog, are you? Because if you are, I’m not shooting it."
"No, no—" Russell says. "That’s just in case we come across anything dangerous."
"Like a rabid dog," Pete responds.
"Or a bear, or a wolf, or Sasquatch—jeez, Pete, it’s just a precaution."
Pete smirks. "Are you bringing your hoe?"
Russell piques, thinking Pete is referring to Michelle, then relaxes.
"No. I threw that away."
"Good for you, because if Hector finds out what you did—"
"Don’t worry about Hector," Russell says, cutting him off. "He’s not our friend anymore. So are you in or out?"
Pete relents. "Sure, I guess. I was getting tired of being cooped up anyway. But," he tacks on, "if I go with you, you have to promise to watch the meteor shower with me tomorrow night."
"Fine," Russell says. "I’ll be there. You still a pretty good shot?"
"The best I know," Pete says with a smile. Then, his face growing serious: "But if you’re taking me to see a rabid dog, I swear to God, Rusty, I’ll be pissed at you the rest of the summer."