start a fight, to only defend yourself, and to only punch someone in the face if you really wanted to hurt him. I really wanted to hurt Paxton for his deceit.

“Hey, Karl… we…” I lagged behind the other guys and whispered, “We don’t have any weapons. We can’t go into Hell without any weapons.”

“Don’t be a sock, Vic. Hell isn’t in the woods behind Glenwood.”

“Oh yeah? Where is it then?”

“My dad says Hell is in Penn Station.”

“Where’s that?”

“In the City.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, if we ever go there, we’ll bring weapons.”

I felt more confident going into the woods with Karl there. He was barefoot and shirtless and grunted when he had to leap over a log or thicket of branches—sort of like an orc. I didn’t tell the other guys about my newly acquired knowledge regarding Hell. I wanted them to find out for themselves that this entire trek was stupid—pathetic, even. It made me feel good to know something Pierce Stone didn’t.

Karl and I remained a few steps behind Paxton, Andrius, Lenny, and Pierce Stone. There was a constant buzzing that serenaded us as we trekked along, and the sunlight that crept through the treetops speckled the forest in golden yellow. Lenny picked up rocks and threw them at trees. He called out each one like he was shooting skeet. The rocks would tear off the old bark, exposing the soft, light brown stuff underneath.

He launched another rock that whirled past the target and escaped into the growing darkness. Lenny was a troublemaker—not malicious or anything, more like the kind of kid who would touch wet paint. He lived in the apartment complex behind the woods with his mom and brother. She was from New Zealand and had an accent (I liked how exotic it sounded). But Lenny didn’t have an accent; he sounded like us. Unfortunately for him, Lenny’s last name was Hooker. He tried to explain that in rugby the “hooker” was an important position, but it didn’t matter—Pierce Stone told the entire class what “hooker” meant, and the rest of the guys ran with it.

“Hey Lenny, has your mom been busy at work?”

“Lenny, does your mom work late at night?”

Even Arjun, an Indian kid who was still getting a grasp on English, whispered to Lenny in class if his mom “charges good rate?” I watched Pierce Stone and Bradley Knight snickering in their seats.

Lenny never got mad about it, though. At least, he never said anything back. This one time I did see him stick his pinky in his ear and dip it into Chase Barriston’s Snack Pack pudding—then he swizzled the gloppy brown around with a plastic spoon. That’s why I never made fun of Lenny’s last name. I didn’t have a taste for earwax or boogers, never had. I also didn’t know what a “hooker” was, so I asked Karl.

Pierce Stone trudged through the woods as if he were in a rush to reach Hell. Paxton had remained attached to his heels, while Lenny and Andrius had become preoccupied with throwing rocks at trees. Even from the back of the pack, I could overhear the conversation between Pierce Stone and Paxton.

“Yeah, my father is already a millionaire,” Pierce Stone said, looking over his shoulder. “I bet none of your fathers are millionaires.”

“I think mine is,” said Paxton, “but I don’t know if I ever want to be a millionaire. If you spend one dollar, you aren’t a millionaire anymore!”

“You idiot. That isn’t how it works.”

The buzz and banter from the shops and train station just down the street dissipated the further we ventured into the woods. Karl had fashioned himself a walking stick from a broken branch and punched it down into the soil every few steps. My sneakers suctioned into the soft, damp earth. The mud would pop! when I yanked my knees up to free my feet.

“Hey! If Lenny lives in those apartments behind the woods, then how come he has never seen Hell?” Karl shouted while hopping from stone to stone like a hobbit.

“Yes, that is good question,” added Andrius.

“Because… only a few people know about Hell,” said Pierce Stone.

“Then how do you know about it?” I asked.

“Dammit, Ferraro! Because my older brother told me all about it. He said that when he was in Glenwood he would come back here and smoke cigarettes.”

“Your brother smoked cigarettes in fifth grade?” Karl questioned.

“Yeah! And… and fourth, too.”

“That is such bullshit.”

“It is not! Dammit, Paxton! Why did you invite this kid?”

“Okay, okay, Pierce. Where the heck are we going now, anyway?”

“Just shut up already and follow me.”

I hid my smirk at the back of the group. I liked that we had entrusted our adventure to Pierce Stone and he was failing us. Perhaps, if the timing is right, I’ll stage a mutiny. We’ll go on our way, leaving him behind. Maybe he’ll never find his way out.

“Pssst, Karl. Should we mutiny?”

“What?”

“Mutiny.”

“There are too many damn bugs,” said Karl, swinging his staff at the mosquitoes like Donatello.

“Put your shirt back on,” I said. He laughed at the idea and kept swinging. “Hey Karl, you think we’ll find a body back here?”

“Eh, I doubt it, but that’d be cool.”

We came upon a wide, meandering brook that separated us from a rock wall. Pierce Stone pointed at an opening in the wall and said, “There. That’s where Hell is, in there.”

“Hell is there?” Andrius questioned, as if he had been expecting demons to be flying around on chimeras shooting fire.

“Yes, it’s in there. Ya know, my brother says that during the Revolution, George Washington and his men hid in there from the British, and then… and then they did a sneak attack at night and WON THE WAR.”

“Wow,” said Paxton, staring wide-eyed into the cave.

“You’re telling me that George Washington hid behind Glenwood during the Revolution?” Karl questioned, again.

“No! That’s not what I’m saying, because Glenwood wasn’t even here yet. Duh! This kid is too young to even know history.”

“Okay, so how do we get over there?” Paxton asked

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