It was a perfect summer evening. The sun was just beginning to go down coloring the sky with pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows. The air was that perfect temperature with almost no humidity. There was a little breeze coming through the hills, but it was never cold, but more like a breath of fresher air. It was a perfect evening to be outside.

The four boys strolling down the middle of the street together were taking full advantage of their summer. They were dusty and sweaty from a long afternoon: first playing baseball when the sun was at its highest and then from lying about it in nearby woods catching a cold dip in the rocky streams.

The neighborhood they were in was obviously economy class but comfortable. There were still younger kids playing in the street before dark and people sitting on their porches enjoying the evening.

"Hey boys," called an older man from his porch. "Enjoying your summer?"

"Yessir," Paul called back. "Never been better."

"Well good, you boys deserved it after that helluva season," the old man replied.

"Thank you, sir," the each replied in unison. They waved and went on down the street.

Baseball was a huge sport in the area, and the boys were renowned for their championship ending season with only one loss early on.

"Man I'm starved," said Jimmy. "I could eat a farm. Where are we going anyway?"

"I dunno," murmured Peter lazily. "We're just walking."

"Well, my house I just around the corner," said Andrew. "Let's go eat there."

"You sure," asked Paul. "We don't want to eat you out."

"Aw it's no problem," replied Andrew. "Mom would be happy to have you over."

It was only Andrew and his mom at his house. He had been an only child and had never known his father who had left the family. But they were well off enough by themselves and Andrew—since he didn't know his father—really had no care of it. And his mom liked to have visitors to just fill their little house some.

They made it to the house just in time to see Andrew's mother arrive home from work. She worked as a bookkeeper for a business in downtown Ithaca. She smiled when she saw the boys.

"Mom, is it alright if they eat over," asked Andrew.

"Of course," she exclaimed. "But I'm not cooking. I was actually going to order pizza."

Well, there was nothing wrong with that to the boys. An hour later, they were lounged around in the den, inhaling pizza while watching baseball highlights. After the pizza was finished, Jimmy and Peter got into a wrestling match. Though Andrew's mother liked the boys, she didn't put up with rough-housing and told them to go outside if they were going to do that.

So they did, because Jimmy had challenged Peter and there was no way Peter was going to let it go. They ditched the pizza boxes and highlights to go to the front yard where the floodlights provided them with a scene.

Paul acted the commentator as Andrew acted the referee.

"And here's my kid brother Petey taking on the infamous Jem-Boy," called out Paul.

"All right you two," said Andrew, deepening his voice for affect. "I want a clean fight. Shake hands—" they did "—now get down—" they crouched some, ready to wrestle "—go!"

Peter and Jimmy went for each other just as the two older boys lunged at them as well. Paul and Andrew took advantage of their surprise attack and had the two younger boys startled enough to get them on the ground. But they were still strong and soon enough it was every man for himself.

Paul had Peter on his back but somehow his younger brother wriggled out from underneath him and it became a strength test, which was nearly dead even. Meanwhile, the lanky Andrew was having some difficulty—not that he would ever admit it—with the stockier Jimmy. But Andrew still had some size and it was also a pretty even match.

They were interrupted a few minutes later when Andrew's mother came out side.

"Paul, Peter, your mother called."

It was a stinger and they all stopped.

Paul and Peter got up. "Yes ma'am?"

"She says that she needs you to go down to the theater and pick up your sister."

"We're on our way," said Paul.

"Hey we'll go with you," said Jimmy. "Leastways I will. We left our bikes at the lot and I need to go pick mine up."

"Yeah I'll go too," said Andrew. "See ya Mom."

Paul, Peter, and Jimmy grabbed their gloves and started back down the sidewalk. It was only a few blocks to the lot which they made short work of because they kept racing each other down the sidewalk. They could make anything a competition. Once on their bikes, it was a bike race through the streets to the theater which was in the middle of Cayuga Heights.

But after a few blocks, the boys took to just lazily riding their bikes and talking. Peter and Jimmy were up ahead, talking about what movies they wanted to see while Paul and Andrew were behind, talking about some girls. Then, Jimmy saw a possum crossing the road on the other side of an intersection and he darted forward, about to chase it.

Peter laughed as Jimmy called out to it in a sing-song voice. He wasn't even embarrassed as two people walking across the street looked at them oddly. Peter sped up to catch up with Jimmy. Then, everything changed.

There was a sudden screeching of tires and a car, without headlights, slammed into Peter's back wheel. He was thrown off his bike and hit the pavement hard head first. Adrenaline pumping, he shook the shock away and quickly crawled out of the road and stopped on the sidewalk. Still confused, though, he turned around in time to see the car stop in front of the two pedestrians. Three shots were fired and they fell silently. Jimmy was frozen in horror in front of the car, where it had stopped just before hitting him.

Peter could see into the car. He saw the driver and looked into his eyes as he tucked away a gun. He then stared at the passenger who was looking straight at him. Peter felt the urge to run as quickly as possible, but it was as if his body was paralyzed. When the passenger spotted him, he raised a gun.

"Peter!"

Paul and Andrew were hauling ass on his bike to catch up to them. People were coming out of their houses and there were sirens in the distance. Peter barely heard the passenger in the car say: "Let's get outta here."

The driver stepped on it, hitting Jimmy off his bike and then backing up to keep from actually rolling over Jimmy. It then sped off into the night, leaving the intersection and its occupants to pick up the aftermath.

It was then that Peter's legs decided to work. He got up quickly and ran over to Jimmy, despite feeling like he was about to throw up. He stopped momentarily when he saw the two still bodies on the other side of the intersection. Then, he ran to Jimmy.

Jimmy was underneath his bike, fighting the urge to cry out.

"Just hold still," said Peter. "I'll get the bike up."

Peter carefully, as to get all the weight off evenly, picked up the bike and rolled it to the side. He knelt down beside Jimmy just as Paul and Andrew arrived. Paul grabbed Peter and turned him around.

"Shit," he said. "You've got a helluva cut there."

Peter frowned and then felt it. His forehead started to sting and he put his hand up to feel blood dripping over his eyebrow.

"Damn," he muttered. "I didn't even notice it."

Meanwhile, Andrew was taking assessment of Jimmy.

"My leg is killing me, man," said Jimmy.

"Where at," asked Andrew.

"My knee."

"I can't see anything because of your jeans," said Andrew. "Just lie still."

People were beginning to come up to the scene and they could hear sirens in the distance. A man hurried over.

"My wife called 9-1-1 as soon as we heard the shots," he said. "You boys get shot?"

"No sir, the car hit my brother and his friend," said Paul, a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Just those two people over there got shot."

He pointed to the still bodies.

"Just saw 'em," said the man. "They're as dead as doornails."

Paul swallowed while Peter lost his stomach behind him. The man patted Peter on the back. "It's all right son. You just sit down and take it easy."

Paul lowered his brother to the ground, while the man took to keeping Jimmy quiet.

"We need to call Mom and let her know that we can't pick up Anne," said Peter.

"We will," assured Paul.

Two patrol cars and an ambulance arrived on the scene. Peter found himself drifting off. He didn't notice the police clearing everyone away for the scene or the paramedics rush over to Jimmy. Paul slapped him a few times on the cheek so that he would come to when a paramedic knelt in front of him. After some shuffling around, they got Jimmy into the ambulance because they suspected that his leg was broken. Peter was loosely bandaged up and put it a patrol car with Paul and Andrew. The policeman followed the ambulance to the hospital.

At the hospital, Peter got two staples and seven stitches along his hairline. Then, they went to find Jimmy who had a cracked tibia right below his knee. They were only wrapping his leg so there would be no cast, but he was on crutches for a couple of weeks and on a lot of pain killers.

Jimmy eventually fell asleep because of all the pain medication. So, they went out into the hall to wait for their parents. They were sitting right outside Jimmy's exam room. Peter's head felt like it was going to explode so he laid down on one of the long benches with his eyes covered by his baseball cap. Paul and Andrew sat on a bench across from him.

"Did you guys see 'em," asked Peter, suddenly.

"We didn't see anything," said Paul. "We were too far away. Did you?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "I could see 'em clear as day. The street lamp was right on their faces. One guy raised his gun at me."

"What," exclaimed Paul. He jumped up and stood over Peter who still had his baseball cap over his eyes.

"I think they were gonna shoot me," added Peter softly. "I think they were gonna shoot me cause I saw 'em."

"Shit," said Andrew. "What if they come back? Shit."

"But if I can identify 'em, the police will get 'em," said Peter. "Right?"

"Not if they disappear," said Paul. "Why didn't you say something before?"

Peter sat up and glared. "Sorry if I was a little out of it. I got a headache the size of Manhattan here!"

"Boys," said a nurse passing by. "Please, keep your voices down."

Peter shot a peevish look to Paul, and then dropped back down on the bench. The sudden movement had made him feel like he would lose his stomach again. His brother just crossed his arms and sat back down. A tense silence fell over them.

Then there were rushed footsteps. "Hey Mom."

Peter pushed his cap up to see his mother briskly walking over to Paul who had stood up. Peter put his legs down and sat up. His mother came over to him and knelt in front of him.

"Oh, Peter, are you okay," she asked. "When the police called and said you had been hurt in a drive-by shooting I didn't know what to think."

"I'm fine, Mom," replied Peter softly with a smile. "Just a cut."

His mother—Marie—took off his baseball cap so that she could inspect the 'cut' herself. She shook her head. "When did the doctor say the stitches could come out?"

"In about a week," replied Peter. "It's really not that bad."

Then, Andrew's mother came in and there was a similar reunion of assuring her that her boy was quite okay. She said that Jimmy's parents were on their way as well.

"We should go home, boys," Marie said. "It's getting late."

"I don't want to leave Jimmy by himself," said Peter.

"He's out of it," said Andrew. "Go on home, kid. I'll wait around some."

"Come on," said Paul, putting an arm around Peter's shoulders. "You look like you're about to fall asleep right here anyway."

He led his younger brother down the hallway while Marie told Andrew's mother good-bye. Then, they got in the car and drove off.

The Burke's actually lived just outside Cayuga Heights. They lived in a typical two story down a road that wasn't quite as populated. The house had belonged to Peter's great-uncle and had been left to his father. That was the main reason they were living in it: it was paid off. In all reality, they probably wouldn't have been able to actually afford a house like this one had they bought it. But it was a perfect size for the family. Upstairs, Peter and Paul shared a room and Anne, their younger sister, had her own room. Then all three shared a bathroom. Downstairs, there was the master bedroom, a guest bedroom, a good size den, and kitchen. A porch ran along the front and back of the house. In the back, the porch was screened in, and that was where their two German Shepherds, Rose and Freddie, slept. Their plot of land was pretty spacious and sloped away into the hilly woods that consumed the area. In their front yard, Marie had planted a few apple trees that were very successful.

When they got home, they found that Anne had been picked up by their father—John. She ran to them, already in her pajamas, when they came in the door.

Peter and Paul feared being attacked with questions about what they had seen. But instead, all Anne had to say was: "Can I see it?"

Peter smiled, removed his baseball cap and flipped back his bangs to show her the cut. She grimaced and upturned her nose. "Ugh, it's ugly. Does it hurt?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "I've got quite the headache."

John stepped into the kitchen and Paul and Peter looked up. "Come on out here, boys. We need to have a talk." He turned and walked out to the back porch, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

Paul and Peter followed. Rose and Freddie trotted over to greet them. John was sitting in one of the rocking chairs. He pointed to the porch swing. "Sit down."

They silently obeyed, but as Peter walked by him, John grabbed his arm. He took the baseball cap off his son's head and flipped back the bangs. He grunted and let Peter go. "A shooting in Cayuga Heights. That's something I'd never thought I'd see. And my own two sons caught up in the middle of it. Boy would your grandfather have a fit." He smiled and the boys smiled. Then he sat down and said. "Now, sit down."

They sat on the porch swing, keeping it as still as possible.

"Paul, you're seventeen years old and your eighteenth birthday is…"

"In sixteen days," replied Paul stoically.

"Right and Peter you're fifteen years old," continued John. "But for some time, I've considered you both men. You're both responsible, diligent, and smart. Shit, you're smarter than I ever was. And I'm proud of both of you. As you know, going to college is something of an anomaly in this family. But I know both of you will lead the way. To say that I don't have high expectations of you boys would be lying. But I don't mean the expectations of becoming successful businessmen or baseball players and making a ton of money. I mean that I have high expectations on how you carry yourselves through life. I expect you to be like you both have been as far back as I can remember: fair, responsible, respectful, honest, and honorable. The difference between now and only a few hours ago was that now all of that will be tested. The test in life is to be morally diligent when the times get rough. Sure, we've had some rough times around here, but nothing where one of you was singled out. In the next few days, you are both—as will Andrew and Jimmy—have moments where it will just be you who has to stand alone, even if just for a little while. But that will be when you're being tested."

"Dad?" Peter swallowed.

"Yes?"

"Why are you telling us this?"

"I'm warning you about reality. There's a lot in this world that you haven't seen in Cayuga Heights."

They both nodded. "Yessir."

The three sat in silence for a few moments; the only sounds the creaking of John's rocking chair, the bugs chirping outside, and the dogs' breath.

"Now," said John. "Get up into bed and get some rest."

"Yessir."

They stood up, said good night, and went up to bed.

()()()()()()

"So when was this picture taken," asked Neal, flipping back to the first page of the album.

"That day, before we went out to play," answered Peter. "Jimmy's mother took it."

Neal studied it. "Funny. Life can be perfectly normal at the beginning of the day and nearly upside down by the end of the day."

"Yep," said Peter.

"That was quite a speech your dad gave you," said Neal. "Kind of sounds like a coming of age speech."

"I'm pretty sure it was," said Peter. He opened another beer while Neal took some last sips out of his. "I think he had an idea what was coming."

"Which was…?"

Peter flipped to the next newspaper clipping: Heights Boy Identifies Shooters.