It's dark by the time Ian gets out of work. Bugs are flying everywhere and as often as he tries to swat them away, they still stick to his sweaty skin.
He passes by Mickey's house on his way to Karen's, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. There is an odd, orange light glowing from within, and as much as Ian tells himself to go home, his feet take him inside.
There is a fire in one of the rooms, Ian can see it from an angle, can see Mickey and his brothers smoking around it. He feels a heavy disappointment thudding inside of him, presses his back against the wall of the opposite room and slides down until he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, where he can hear their conversation perfectly.
"I'll be violating my fucking probation."
"We're not gonna get caught, Mickey."
"Fine. But I'm taking an extra gun, just in case."
"We don't need another gun, what we need is another person."
"What for?"
"So they can be on the lookout."
"Who the hell is gonna wanna do that?"
"How about your friend?"
There is a pause, and Ian's heart skips a beat.
"What friend?"
"The one that came by the construction site the other day."
"Nah."
"Why not?"
"He don't go for that kind of shit."
"He's not down for making a few extra bucks?"
"No."
"Why don't you ask him?"
"I said no, Colin. Give it a rest, OK?"
Ian hears noises at night. He wants to kick himself for being such a pussy, but he knows they're in a dangerous neighborhood and his mind can't help but wander. Tonight, they're louder than ever, and he hides under the covers in spite of the heat, trying to pretend someone's not about to break into his room.
"That was easy."
Ian sits up so quickly the covers slide right off him, and he's left staring at Mickey, shell-shocked. Mickey looks like he wants to laugh at him, but doesn't.
"I thought... I thought you were a burglar."
"Did you?" he asks nonchalantly.
"What are you doing here?"
Mickey shrugs, shifting the raggedy backpack he's carrying from one shoulder to the other.
"What was easy?"
"Huh?"
"You said something was easy."
"Sneaking in here. I thought it'd be harder."
"You mean you never tried it before?"
"Nah. I can see Karen whenever."
"You can see me whenever, too."
No, not usually, but now he can, at least while the summer lasts, but neither of them say it. Mickey shakes his head, trying to stop thoughts before they form there.
"Why are you here?" Ian asks again.
"I couldn't sleep. Let's go."
"Where?"
"Get into some trouble."
They're running and jumping fences, and Ian can keep up with Mickey, but just barely. It's so dark it's hard to tell where they're going, but Mickey seems to know without needing to see, or maybe he really can see in the dark, like a cat.
There are dogs barking in the distance, and when they finally land on solid ground, Ian feels them snapping at his feet, but one word from Mickey and they're silent. They know him.
They are on abandoned grounds, some place that Ian at first guesses is a graveyard, and maybe it kind of is, only it's full of beat-up trucks and broken machinery.
"Mickey, where are we?"
Mickey glares at him and places a finger to his lips. Ian follows him to the back of the lot and under a shed. Inside, there are a couple of old cars. Mickey gives them the once over, then turns to Ian.
"You pick."
"What?"
"Which one do you want?"
"Mickey-"
"Fucking pick, Ian, we don't got all night."
Ian points to a rust-covered car that looks like it might have white at one point. Mickey smirks. "A five-o, huh?"
"What?"
"A five-o. It's a cop car. Or was."
"Oh." Ian pauses. "Is that bad?"
"No. Shows you have balls."
"What?"
"Stealing a cop car."
"Stealing? What do you mean-?"
But before he can even say anything, Mickey has already picked the lock on the door and thrown his backpack in the trunk. "Get in."
For someone who's driving a stolen car, Mickey seems to enjoy speeding. Ian still can't get over the fact that they did what they did, his heart is still hammering in his chest, in fear and excitement at doing the first bad thing he thinks he might have done in his life.
"You wanna drive?"
"Huh?"
"The car. You wanna drive it?"
"Uh, no. Thanks."
Mickey fixes his eyes on him, stern. "Don't tell me you're fucking scared."
"No. I just... I haven't had too much practice, you know? Clayton doesn't have time, and I... I'm not sure I want him to."
Mickey nods.
"When did you learn?"
"Bout five years ago. Terry taught me."
"Five years ago you were, like, twelve."
"He needed someone to drive him to the doctor. We had a stick shift. Took me forever to learn."
"You still have it?"
"What?"
"The car."
"Nah. Sold it."
"Oh."
"To pay for the casket. Don't get any ideas in your head."
"I wasn't... Mickey, I thought you had money."
"I do."
"I mean, enough."
"To live like you? No, there's never enough for that."
The radio in the car doesn't work, and Ian's kind of glad for it. Mickey tried it three times already, the last rather desperately, but Ian likes the silence between them.
"You can practice with this car if you want... while we have it."
"OK."
Mickey pulls up on the side of the road and Ian's eyes go wide. "Now?"
Mickey shrugs. "Road's empty."
"But, Mickey, I don't even know where we're going."
"I'll tell you where."
The air feels hot and stuffy and Mickey's feet are up on the dashboard like he's not afraid Ian could crash at any moment while he lazily gives out directions, whether because he trusts him or because he's fearless, who knows.
They've gone on a straight line the whole way, with the exception of a few turns, and Ian understands why Mickey let him drive here. He's going fast, faster than he thought he'd have the courage to, and the windows are open, and the air coming in tastes like salt, and this is fun, funner than he thought it was gonna be. A small smile forms on his lips, and Mickey looks like he wants to grin, too.
"What?"
"You're smiling."
"I was just thinking that-"
"That it's the first time this summer you're actually having fun."
"Yup."