“Say Petey,” Lars drawled. “My girl Susie would like to play a round with you.” To Robin he said, “You don’t mind do you? She’s doesn’t play too well but she thinks she can beat little Petey there.”

Robin’s eyebrows rose. “You’re joking.”

“He’s not,” Peter said. All his senses had gone on high alert when Lars had followed them to the second table. “And suddenly I feel like maybe I should be….”

“Going somewhere?” another man came up from behind him.

“Don’t do this,” Robin commanded but no one paid attention to him.

They were all focused on Peter, who felt small and young again, briefly, until he heard Robin tell him, “Do what you gotta do, soldier man. I’m here if you need me.”

“Aw, shit,” Peter said when Lars threw the first punch. He sidestepped it neatly and shoved a couple of others back, brandishing his pool cue like a weapon. At that point Peter didn’t think most of the crowd wanted it any more than he did. He grabbed Robin by the arm and they headed for the door, throwing the cue and an apologetic look at Tim who stood behind the bar. Peter saw Tim frown and pick up the phone when Lars started to follow them out the door.

They made a dash for his mom’s car but a beer bottle smashed against the driver’s side fender and broke into a million pieces. Both Peter and Robin froze in shock as it showered his mother’s pride and joy with foamy jets of beer.

Robin was the first to whirl around, his face a mask of rage. “Oh no! You did not just defile my Shelley’s car, asshole!”

Peter threw a hand out to keep Robin from advancing. “I’ve got this babe.”

Robin seethed. “Did you see what that bastard did? It’s like he came on it. It looks like—”

“I’ve got it, Robin,” Peter told him, feeling better than he had since he’d come home. He was probably smiling and he could tell that Lars was confused.

Lars stood under the security light by Buzzy’s front door with his arms folded, grinning back. “What’re you going to do about it Hsu?”

“I’m going to kick your fucking ass,” Peter advanced until he was chest to chest with him. He waited for Lars to throw another punch. Why was it taking such a long damned time? “Then I’m going to run you over with my mom’s car a couple of times before I wash it so I don’t have to wash it twice. And if there’s even one fucking scratch on it? You’ll wish you and she could trade places as much as I do right now.”

“You wish, you fucking pussy!” Lars jeered.

“The mouth on that girl,” Robin muttered.

“You have the coolest accent,” Peter gushed. He heard sirens in the distance “You!” He pointed at Lars, “Are damned lucky Tim called the police.”

“Like you’re any kind of threat to me, you half-chink faggot.”

Robin sighed. “He went there.”

“He did.” Peter shrugged.

The police were pulling into the parking lot when Lars shouted, “Your mom married a chink and you’re a fucking faggot, it’s a good thing she died so she didn’t have to see what’s become of her baby, the boy named—”

In that split second Robin jumped back out of the way and Peter pulled his fist back.

“How do you DO!” he shouted, and clocked Lars with such force it knocked both him and his girlfriend back off their feet.

The skin split on Peter’s knuckles when it made its satisfying contact with Lars’s teeth, some of which seemed to push in toward his throat, and blood spattered everywhere except, Peter was gratified to note, onto his mother’s car.

As his father’s best friend, Chuck Strachlan handed him into the back of the patrol car Peter called out, “Don’t let the beer dry on Mom’s car.”

Robin waved. “I’ll clean it up.”

Lars remained unconscious while Robin grudgingly performed minor first aid on him. Peter was forced to sit cuffed until the police sorted the whole mess out. Susie wept silently, subdued by the way Chuck barked at her to remain seated where she’d fallen on the ground.

Few, if any, people blamed Peter for his outburst. Most were fully prepared to state that Lars was begging for it. In an unprecedented act of charity Chuck came over and uncuffed him, hauling his ass back out of the patrol car. He shoved Peter up against the rear fender and stood back, folding his arms as though he were preparing to deliver a lecture.

“I’m surprised at you, son.”

Peter looked at the ground. “What for?”

“You honestly have to ask?”

Peter frowned up at him. “I’m sure you’ve seen a homosexual before, Chuck.”

Chuck’s eyes twinkled. “It so happens that is not what I want to talk to you about.”

Peter began to breathe again. “What?”

“Did I or did I not teach you to wait until the other guy throws the first punch?” Chuck glared at him.

Peter broke into a small smile. “Prick was all talk.”

“Your aunt Lyndee’s on her way with the truck.” When Peter would have argued, he held up his hands. “You are not driving anywhere tonight. I’ll see to your mom’s car. I’ll be happy to clean her up, if only so I can drive her.”

Peter swallowed hard, realizing that the car now belonged to him. “My mom…she—”

“I know son.” Chuck pulled him into a rough hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Peter allowed himself to accept the comfort of Chuck’s embrace.

“You go home, and don’t let me catch you fighting again.”

“No sir,” Peter said dutifully.

Robin came up to stand on his left. Having rendered as much aid as he could to the obnoxious Lars, he’d gladly handed him over when the ambulance arrived.

“Lyndee’s coming to get us,” Peter told him.

“I thought they were going to throw the book at you for a minute.”

“Love the way you talk.” That accent continued to weave its spell. “I tot they were going to trow de book…”

A wide smile cracked Robin’s face. “You’re the one with the accent, soldier boy.”

Lyndee pulled up a few minutes later, saying nothing but opening the passenger door with a glance that told them everything they needed to know. “Got that little Lars fuck, did you? ’Bout time.”

“Do you think,” Peter began, at the same time Robin spoke.

“There’s something I need at—”

Peter took control of the situation. “You need to drop us off at Mom’s place, Lyndee, that way we’ll be within walking distance to go get the car in the morning.” He was pleased he’d thought of such a great excuse.

“That’s odd, I was just going to suggest the very same thing.” Lyndee turned left at the stop sign that would bring her to her sister’s home. “I’m sure you’ll want to go over paperwork for the next few days as you sort things out.”

“That’s a very good idea, Aunt Lyndee, I’m glad you thought of it.” Peter tried to keep from smiling. The alcohol, and now the fade from his adrenaline rush were conspiring against him behaving normally.

Lyndee pursed her lips and her eyes said she wasn’t fooled one single bit.

“Have a nice time,” she said tartly as they got out. “With the paperwork.”

Instead of running to the back door of his mother’s house as he had the last time he’d been there, Peter stood in the yard after Lyndee’s tail lights winked away into the darkness down the street. He felt Robin’s eyes on him first, then his hands, as he stared at the front door. The porch light was unlit and it looked cold and empty. Exactly as his mother had when the light had finally gone out of her eyes.

”I have a key,” Robin offered.

“So do I.” Peter didn’t move.

Robin remained silent.

“It’s harder than I thought.” Peter shook off Robin’s hands and dug in his pocket. Without saying anything further he walked up the porch steps and opened the door.

“It’s never going to be the same.” Robin followed him and they both hesitated. “But it’s all right, you know. She’d say it was all right.”

“I know.” He sagged back against Robin. “I just miss her. It’s not like I saw her much, but we talked all the time, and—”

“I miss her too.”