The tent was not a tepee. It was long, and each end was a triangle with flaps that hung down, and the flaps had four ties. There was a floor in the tent, and Billy said that you could take it into the woods when it was cold or rainy and zip up the flaps and have a lantern inside and sleep all night, even if a bear showed up. They were not taking it into the woods; they were setting it up in Billy’s backyard.
What you did was, you spread the tent out on the grass, and made sure that the floor was smooth and that the edges were straight. Then Billy, who was inside the tent, gave Richie four stakes and Michael four stakes. A stake was a pointed piece of iron with an L-shaped bend at the top. Richie did what he was told, which was to go along the long edge of the tent on one side and pull out the loops, then set a stake beside each loop. Michael did the same thing on the other side.
Billy had one hammer. The three of them took turns. Billy pounded a stake on Richie’s side and a stake on Michael’s side; then he gave the hammer to Richie, and Richie started to pound the stake. It was easier than a nail, because the L-shape wasn’t as small as the head of a nail. Richie hit the L-shape twice, and it went in a little. Michael said, “I want to do it.” Richie didn’t pay any attention to him, and pounded twice more. It got in a little ways farther, but still not halfway. Richie stopped and took a deep breath. Michael stuck out his tongue. Richie hit the stake twice more.
When the stake was finally in, with two hits from Billy, they took the hammer around the tent, and Michael did his first one. He got it in on four hits. Pretty deep, too. This made Richie mad. It always made him mad that he was older but Michael was bigger and stronger. Michael never let him forget it. His dad said that that should make Richie fight harder and smarter, but that didn’t work every time. Billy brought the hammer around, and the other two boys watched Richie do his second stake. Because he’d had some practice in aiming this time, he got it in on four hits, so he felt not as mad. It went like that. After all the stakes were in, they walked around the tent and crawled into it and sat and lay down, then crawled out of it. It smelled bad, but Richie thought it was neat — a little dark, like you could hear a ghost story in there. Billy must have felt the same way, so he went into the house to get a blanket and some comic books. He was still talking more to Michael than to him, and Michael kept giving Richie that look. The thing about Michael was that he didn’t have to say a word to get Richie — his every look and movement rippled through Richie, no matter whether he wanted them to or not.
Once they had the blanket and the comics, Billy decided they needed 7-Ups because they had worked hard, so he headed back to the house. Michael took the blanket into the tent to spread it out. He said, “Leave the comics alone. I get first dibs.” Richie didn’t say anything. He most of the time didn’t say anything.
Squatting there by the side of the tent, Richie saw that one of the stakes might be coming out, so he picked up the hammer where they’d dropped it in the grass and hit the stake. It went in a little, so he hit it again. It was after the second hit that he saw the bump moving along the roof of the tent. Of course he knew it was Michael’s head — he wasn’t an idiot. The bump pushed out, then slipped to the right, then pushed out, then slipped to the right, and he lifted the hammer and hit it. There was a loud groan. The bump went away, and there was a sound of rustling. He went around and looked between the flaps. Michael was lying on his side.
Just then, Billy showed up with the 7-Ups and said, “What happened?” And Richie said, “I hit him with the hammer.”
Billy ran for the house.
That was when it got scary, because Mrs. Weston came screaming out the door and the girls were behind her, and all the girls gave him mean looks. Billy looked worried, too. Michael was still lying there; “out cold” was an expression they said on TV. This must be it, Richie thought.
Mrs. Weston dragged Michael out of the tent and laid him on the grass, and the oldest girl, Randy, ran into the house to call Nedra; as quick as could be, Nedra came running down the street and through the gate, shouting, “Oh my Lord, oh my Lord! What a pair of boys, it’s always something.” She smacked Richie on the head and said, “This time maybe you killed him and got your wish, you naughty child. I will deal with you later.”
Nedra had a stick of butter in her hand, and as she started to open the paper wrapping, Michael groaned and moved. Nedra held him down and said, “Now, don’t move, Michael; that a boy.” Mrs. Weston patted Michael on the arm. Nedra felt around on Michael’s head and said, “Well, here’s the goose egg — heavens to Betsy — big as my fist,” and she put the butter on it and made him lie there. The girls went back inside. Then Nedra said, “What in the world did you do this for? Two days ago, they were pushing each other on the stairs. They said it was just a game, but it looks like all-out war to me.”
Richie said, “It was just a game.”
Mrs. Weston started shaking her head. “Well, boys don’t know the difference half the time. And girls! Well, I don’t know which is worse. He’s coming around.” Michael sat up. Richie wondered if Nedra was going to tell on him. Nedra said, “Maybe I should take him to the doctor. Mr. Langdon is in Venezuela again, and the missus is over the river.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Mrs. Weston. “He’s fine. Let’s have a cup of coffee. Look at him. Michael, you okay?”
Michael nodded.
“Do you feel like you need to go to the doctor?”
Michael said, “I don’t want to go to the doctor.” He felt his bump, then sniffed, but he didn’t cry. He didn’t have a single tear. “Can we go in the tent and read some comics?”
“Sure,” said Mrs. Weston. “But if you feel like you are going to pass out, you send Billy to get me, okay?”
Michael nodded.
Nedra said, “I need a smoke.”
Mrs. Weston said, “Me, too.”
The two women stood up, and after a moment, Michael crawled into the tent, then Billy. Richie crawled in after them. They settled themselves, and Billy handed each one a comic book and a 7-Up. That was that, thought Richie. For now. But he was going to have to watch out, and not for Nedra. He looked around Billy at Michael, who was reading and touching the bump in the back of his head with his finger. No, Richie thought, he wasn’t sorry. It was a good thing he hadn’t been made to say he was.
—
THE NEW HOUSE HAD a long driveway, but Andy had already foreseen the blizzard and left the car at the end of it — all she had to do was wait for the plow and shovel it out. As soon as she got up, she pulled on her warm clothes and went out to check. The snow, still quietly balanced just where it had fallen, undisturbed as yet by wind or movement, was a work of art. She stood beside the car, staring around. Though she had never been one to make use of snow, like her brother, Sven, and the other Norwegian relatives, she had always appreciated it as a type of raiment, hiding, smoothing, brightening.
Inside, the call had come — no school. She prevented herself from mentioning snowstorms in Decorah — that time they were walking home, which normally took fifteen minutes, and so much snow fell just in that struggling half-hour that she and Sven had to take refuge in the house at the foot of their block, and be taken home an hour later by that neighbor boy — what was his name? — who pulled them on a sled. She said, “What are you going to do today, then?”