Greetings all, I am indeed still here. This is my entry for the BTR Writers' Support and Plot Adoption Forum's Summer Challenge! I've had a migraine for almost three days, and this is the product of my ramblings. Please forgive any typos. Proceed with caution.

Please go check out the other entries for the challenge!

July Fourth was one of James Diamond's favorite days of the year.

Well, all holidays were considered his favorite, but July Fourth got a special pass.

Thanksgiving was fun, but by November, Minnesota was positively frigid. It was cold but without much snow, and there was no point in freezing to death if he and his friends couldn't massacre each other with snowballs. The turkey sort of made up for it, he supposed. Christmas was even better since there was usually snow on the ground (and presents, duh). His birthday was, of course, close to the top of the list since who wouldn't love a holiday all about themselves? Plus he was almost twelve now, and by this point, nobody knew what to get him so he really only got gift cards (which were honestly so much better than anything his family could possibly buy him).

But the Fourth of July?

No fancy clothes, no formalities, just good 'ole junk food and roughhousing and celebrating the U.S.A. It was the only day his parents let him stay up into the wee hours of the morning barring New Years', and the only time of year that he and his friends were permitted to light sparklers and fire confetti poppers into the air.

Seriously, it was a pyromaniac's dream.

Of course, not all dreams are dreams. Some turn out to be nightmares. And that was exactly what this Fourth of July was shaping up to be.

James hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.

"What is wrong with you?!"

His father's harsh yell roused James from a fairly pleasant stupor and made him groan. He rolled over, glaring blearily at his alarm clock. 8:42. Yeah, he should probably get up. To keep his mother off his case if for no other reason.

"What's wrong with you?!" his mother replied, seemingly less angry but more confused. She was already using her, "You're overreacting and I'm being a mature adult" voice and it wasn't even noon yet.

James sighed, throwing the sheet aside (he had forgone his comforter weeks ago. . . the heat this time of year was unbearable, and he didn't relish waking up already smelling like a sweat sock, thank you very much) and rising. Carlos, who'd spent the night, was nowhere to be seen, and his sleeping bag was chucked haphazardly in the corner. James quickly grabbed the clothes he'd laid out the night before and changed, combing his hair into something presentable before heading into the hallway and descending the stairs.

"Honestly, Andrew, keep track of your own things!"

"How can I do that when you move them?!"

James winced, pausing on the stairs and hesitating to enter the kitchen. The enticing smell of pancakes might not be enough to lure him into his parents' own version of No Man's Land in the morning. Oh, who was he kidding? James was a sucker for pancakes. But honestly, who wasn't?

He entered the room tentatively. His mother was at the stove, putting together a positively massive communal plate of pancakes. Carlos was across the room by the sink, leaning on the counter as he practically inhaled a similarly sized plate of his own food. Andrew Diamond was a few yards away in the living room, feverishly ripping apart the furniture as he searched for something.

"How could you just toss it aside?!" he shouted, his voice muffled as he practically crawled under the sofa.

"It looked like a dishrag! Get a hold of yourself, Andy."

"It's a 157-year-old artifact!"

Brooke Diamond scoffed. "Like that suit?"

At the counter, Carlo''s jaw dropped in his classic I'm-loving-this-drama face. "Ouch," he mouthed to James, chuckling silently.

Huffing, Andrew stood and leaned heavily on the couch. "Like your face?"

Carlos choked and inhaled a piece of syrup-soaked dough as Brooke began to rant, "Wow, what a mature thing to say in front of the children!"

"No, see maturity would be asking about something that isn't yours before throwing it away!"

Carlos smacked the kitchen counter, gagging as he tried to free the pancake from his throat.

Brooke laughed. "Oh, I can ask." She pressed the button on the bottom of the container that opened the trash can before rooting around inside. She removed a wadded-up chunk of paper. "Here, Andrew, do you want me to throw away this straw wrapper?" She grabbed an empty sauce can. "How about this can? Is this important? Why don't I just leave it laying around so you can go put it in a glass box and call it important!"

"Uh," James started, motioning to Carlos who was wildly punching his stomach. "I think Carlos is choking over there. Hello?"

"That's not what I mean!" Andrew continued, oblivious.

"Then what did you mean?! I'm not going to let every little thing in this house sit around! You bring home too many things as it is! How can I tell the difference between our trash and your trash?!"

"It's decorative!"

"It makes us look like the 'Addams Family!'"

Carlos heaved himself against the sink, successfully dislodging the pancake chunk. He sagged to his knees, gasping for air. "Thanks, everybody," he sputtered hoarsely. "Didn't need the Heimlich or anything."

Andrew and Brooke continued, unaware.

James stepped forward, rolling his eyes. "Mom, can I have a pancake?" Brooke said nothing, holding the plate unknowingly out of reach as she continued to argue with her husband. "Mom?" He sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'm just gonna eat my shoe for breakfast," he declared loudly, again receiving no reaction. "Wow, they're really into it this time."

Carlos dragged himself off the floor, grabbing a pancake right from the skillet without missing a beat and shoving it into his mouth. He ignored the blistering pain. "Yeah, I've been invisible for at least five minutes," he chuckled, grabbing the plate from Brooke (who still didn't notice) and taking it to the already set table. "My dad cut the cable because it was too expensive, but that's fine because I can just come over here."

"Ha ha," James deadpanned. His brow furrowed as the younger boy grabbed yet another pancake. "Where do you put it all?"

"Oh, I find a place."

Brooke approached, the final pancake on her spatula, and deposited it on the communal plate. "Well, honestly kids, don't fill up! We have the BBQ today."

James looked at her a bit incredulously. "I grabbed one!"

Brooke shrugged. "Still. Everyone's coming over in a few hours. Carlos' parents should be here any minute, if they're bringing those snack trays."

"If you didn't want us to eat them all, why did you make so many?"

"Because I'm a stress-cooker and your father distracted me."

In the living room, Andrew glowered. "Oh, so now I'm a distraction?"

"In the worst possible way."

"Huh, thanks."

Brooke grabbed the pan, dumping it in the sink. "Did you get the hotdogs?" she asked. No answer came. "Andy?"

Andrew seemed to give up the artifact for lost, placing his hands on his hips and nodding. "Yep," he answered, looking everywhere but at his wife. "They are. . . in a secure location."

". . . So you forgot?"

"Yep."

Brooke sighed, grabbing his keys from the counter and tossing them across the room. "Go ahead."

Andrew caught the keys, straightening his suit and checking to see if he had his wallet before turning to the kids. "You wanna tag along, champ?" he asked James. "Since I can never seem to come back with the right ones? Not that I ever do anything right anyway, though, so I guess I should be used to it."

"Andrew!" Brooke yelled, grabbing the frying pan again and holding it rather threateningly. "So help me, if you don't leave right now I will crack your head like a cheap, poorly dressed watermelon!"

James bit his lip as his father glared indignantly. "A watermelon?"

"Well, your head's certainly big enough."

Carlos snickered at the table, and Andrew rolled his eyes. He motioned James toward the door before sending his wife an irritated look. "Let's go, buddy. Before I get my head chopped off."

"Why would anyone make 97% reduced fat? It's like 2% milk. Either take all the fat out or keep it in. Leaving 2% in is pointless."

James rolled his eyes, blowing his bangs out of his face with a huff as he leaned heavily on the shopping cart handle. His mother was absolutely meticulous with her grocery meat; anything less than stellar regularly earned the buyer a verbal thrashing, and, as such, Andrew Diamond was known to panic a bit over the task of shopping for their house. Although, James mused, if he got yelled at ten times a day for the way he inhaled, he might be a bit tense over shopping too.

"Dad," he began as his father started anxiously turning over various packs of hot dogs to inspect them. "I'm sure whatever you get is fine." Andrew gave him a pointed look, causing both to chuckle. "Okay, maybe not fine. But there's only so many you can get." He nodded to a section of the shelf that was particularly full. "Why don't you get the bun length?"

Andrew grabbed a pack and turned it over, then turned it around again to scrutinize the packaging. He huffed. "Doesn't bun length imply that all the others aren't bun length? Why is there such false advertising in the grocery business?!"

"Oh my gooooooosshhhhhhhh," James groaned, propping his feet on the bottom rack of the cart and hanging off the rail. "Dad. . . just pick something."

"How about you pick them? Your mother won't take your head off."

James chuckled, standing and coming around the cart to eye the packages. "Are you sure?"

"Well. . . she'll take less of your head off."

James sighed, picking through a few choices on one side of the refrigerated shelf while his father browsed the other. "Any luck?" Andrew asked after a while.

James shook his head. "They all taste the same, don't they?"

Andrew smiled, nodding. "For us, yeah. Not for your mother. She can detect a hotdog abnormality from a mile away."

James hesitated, glancing at the cart. His father did the same, and they eyed each other. "All of it?" they asked in unison. Grinning, they began grabbing every pack of hotdogs in sight, loading them into the cart at top speed. They left a few lone packs for any other procrastinating fathers who would happen to come along before hurrying towards the condiment aisle.

"Is that Carlos?"

Andrew's question pulled James' gaze from his cellphone to the house. They could see Carlos clearly through their front window. He had his face pressed up against the glass, mouthing something unintelligible.

James climbed out of the car as soon as his father pulled into the driveway, waving as he shut the door. Carlos didn't look at all cheerful, instead continuing to mouth. . . whatever he was trying to say.

"I think he's saying, 'help me,'" Andrew provided helpfully, grabbing several plastic bags full of groceries from the backseat.

James' brow furrowed as Carlos began pounding on the glass. "Why does he look so panicked?"

"Maybe because he's in there with your mother."

James sighed, repressing a chuckle as he turned to open the back door on the passenger side. "Daaaaaaad." He groaned. "Can you please try to get along with Mom today?"

"Jamie, we can't even get along on our anniversary. I'm not sure July 4th warrants anything more."

"But. . ." James hooked a few bags on his arms, eyeing the floor. His father stopped, clearly giving him his attention. "The other guys are coming over."

"Yeah."

". . .Kendall's coming."

". . .Yeah. . ."

"And last year wasn't. . . Kendall couldn't enjoy anything last year. And. . . I want today to be fun."

Andrew sighed heavily, nodding slowly as he seemed to think for a moment. "Well, that," he began, "is a very good reason."

Kendall's father had been killed the previous year. It was close to summer; far enough along that he was unable to take an appropriate break with school, what with finals and all. And close enough to the three-month vacation that it more or less gave him nothing else to focus on but the tragedy. Their July 4th, typically spent celebrating with a large gathering of all four families, had passed without the party as the Knights mourned and struggled to get by.

But this year? Kendall was going to actually have a good time this year.

James would make sure of it.

He looked hopefully to his father as the man stood, grasping several plastic grocery bags in his hands and closing the door. "I'll do my best," he promised sincerely.

James smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dad," he answered, shutting his own door.

"But," his father continued as they headed for the front door. "Don't be surprised if you find my mangled body stuffed behind the barbecue at the end of the day." The comment made James chuckle.

They slipped through the front door, being met with a, "What took you so long?!" from Brooke, who sounded like she was outside.

Inside, Carlos climbed off the bench in front of the window and looked at James imploringly. "Dude, what took you so long?!" he repeated in a whisper. "You left me alone with your mom and mine!"

"My dad takes ages to shop," James replied. "Why are we whispering?"

Brooke's agitated voice reached them through the screen door. "I thought you said you got this grill working!"

"I did!" Carlos' father replied, equally as agitated.

"Well obviously not correctly! I threw four matches in there and nothing's working!"

Andrew balked, tossing his bags into James' arms and hurrying towards the kitchen and back door. "You guys better not ruin my grill!" he shouted as James began to chuckle.

Carlos' father spoke next. "The only one ruining it is your wife, who's apparently trying to commit actual arson!"

"I didn't know!"

"It's a propane grill! Are you trying to kill us all?!"

"Dude," James muttered. "I hope the rest of the day doesn't go like this."

"It won't," Carlos said encouragingly. "This is just a. . .small setback." He glanced at the bags. "Ooh, what'd you guys get?"

"Just a bunch of hot dogs. I think we got more dogs than rolls, actually." They headed into the kitchen.

"Ow!" Andrew screeched from the yard. "Why would you put it like that?!"

Brooke poked her head in through the sliding glass door, eyeing her son. "James, bring those over here would you? We need to get moving. We're behind enough as it is."

Andrew scoffed. "Well, maybe if you hadn't destroyed my grill…"

The doorbell rang, and Carlos sprinted for the foyer with a cry of glee. James sighed tiredly, moving the bags to the island counter and attempting to organize them.

"Itttttttttttttttttt's Kendall!" Carlos shouted, charging into the kitchen with the blonde boy in tow. He was almost cartoonishly energetic, which was normal when he was around Kendall nowadays. He wanted to do his best to cheer his friend up.

"Ayyyyyy!" James cheered, leaving the groceries to go and wrap his friend in a tight hug. "Welcome to the party, man!"

Kendall chuckled awkwardly, wishing for the umpteenth time his friends wouldn't tread on eggshells around him. "Thanks, guys," he smiled. He held out a tray wrapped in plastic wrap. "Here, my mom made the kabobs."

"KABOBS!" Carlos screamed, grabbing the tray and charging into the backyard, where several large, foldable tables were set up.

"Carlos!" Jennifer Knight called, hurrying into the room with Katie in tow. "Don't you drop those kabobs again!"

"That was one time!" Carlos set the tray down on the table, picking eagerly at the wrapping just as Jennifer stepped forward and lightly smacked his hand.

"Those are for later, Carlos."

The boy pouted as Mrs. Knight moved out onto the patio, greeting the other adults as Andrew swore loudly.

"You put firewood in my propane grill!"

Brooke scoffed. "If it's not a versatile product, what good is it?"

"So help me, I'm going to kill myself before the end of the day."

"Oh, I'll be happy to help!"

Mrs. Knight promptly shut the door, cutting off Andrew's reply and leaving the boys standing stock still in the kitchen.

Kendall shook his head, turning to James with a serious look. "You know, man, I hope I have that great of a relationship when I'm an adult."

"Shut up,"James said, bumping his shoulder with no real heat. Kendall chuckled.

"Do we know anything about Logan?" the blond boy asked, moving to perch on one of the counter bar stools.

Carlos shook his head. "He's bringing the corn, so he better hurry."

"I thought his parents were on vacation," James asked, confused. "How is he getting the corn?"

"His bike, I guess. That's a long ride, too."

The back door slid open, and Brooke entered the room in a huff. "Do you have those hot dogs?" she asked, agitated.

James immediately held the bags out to her, and she took them with an angry sigh before marching back outside. "Always a pleasure," he muttered under his breath as she closed the door.

There was a sudden clamor in the hallway, just before Logan rounded the corner with two large bags in his arms, clearly having let himself in. "Interesting historical fact: did you know the Mayans had a corn god?" He came forward, depositing the bags awkwardly on the island and panting a little, presumably from the ride. "They performed a human sacrifice every year for a good harvest, and I gotta say. This corn from that discount grocer on 2nd St.? Not worth a human sacrifice. It is ugly."

The other three boys fell completely silent, staring at him until Carlos scrunched his face in a look of disgust. "Dude, don't poison me with learning on summer break. What's wrong with you?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to broaden your horizons a little bit. Learn something new now and then."

"Yeah, because everyone loves a good human sacrifice talk before lunch," James said dryly.

"Is that the corn?" Carlos' father asked, sticking his head through the now open door.

Kendall nodded. "Yeah. Did you guys get the grill working?"

The officer shrugged. "Well, after we removed the small forest fire a certain someone put in there. I'd say we probably won't level the block now." He entered the kitchen, grabbing the bags off the counter and sending the boys a knowing look. "You guys can come out and help if you want, I don't think anyone's murdered anybody else yet."

Surprisingly, the morning did not end in a murder. It did take the adults a while to organize the grilling situation, but once James' father had managed to fend off the masses and get the grill going, everything mostly went well. Carlos' mother had handmade several snack trays, some with fruit and others with crackers and deli meats, and they were mostly gone by the time Brooke had the boys set up the small picnic tables in the backyard.

By mid-afternoon, they'd mostly finished eating and had cleared the majority of the paper dishes, and the boys broke out several lawn games that were stored in the garage. Carlos' father was the only adult willing to play, until he nearly threw his back out when Kendall attempted to teach him hacky sack. It was late, roughly near six o'clock, when Carlos sent James a knowing look. The taller boy nodded, heading for the table where his mother sat with Jen and Sylvia. "Mom?" he asked once there was a lull in their conversation. "Can we go on a walk?"

Brooke shrugged, sharing a look with the other women. "I don't see why not, as long as you're all back before dark."

"We will be," James assured her, taking off towards the boys. Carlos had already rounded up Kendall and Logan, waiting quietly by the back door. James waved them on as he entered.

"What're we doing?" Kendall asked as they headed up the stairs.

James smirked. "Something we've always wanted to do." They reached his room, huddling by the bed as he shut the door behind them. "Carlos, get the contraband."

Logan's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "The what now?"

Carlos laughed gleefully, dashing over to the closet and pulling out a large cardboard box. He peeled open the tape and lifted the flaps.

"No," Logan said firmly. "No, absolutely not. No."

The box was filled nearly to the brim with fireworks, mostly roman candles and bottle rockets, along with several packs of firecrackers. Carlos produced a few packs of matches from his pockets.

"Where did you guys get this?!" Kendall exclaimed, looking shocked but no less excited than the other two.

"I know a guy," Carlos said conspiratorially. He dragged the box fully into the room and hefted it into his arms, grinning.

Logan looked genuinely upset, turning to James with a frown. "I thought you were joking!"

"I said I had a grand finale, and I said it was fireworks," James argued. "What did you not understand?"

"I didn't think you were serious!" He turned to Carlos. "And where did you even get those?! You're not old enough to buy fireworks, Carlos!"

Carlos chuckled. "It's amazing what people will buy you if you volunteer to do their college papers."

". . .You did some poor soul's college essay for this?"

"Hey, he said I had to do it. He never said it had to be good."

Logan shook his head, practically speechless. "We're gonna die. If these don't kill us, that guy definitely will. He's going to hunt you down."

Carlos shrugged indifferently. "It was worth it."

"Okay, come on," James instructed, opening the door and hurrying into the hallway. The four crept down the stairs and out the front door, doing their best to keep silent. They headed towards the end of the street, where the houses tapered off into a barren, hilled area that was really only used for sledding in the winter.

"Alrighty," Carlos muttered to himself, pulling a firecracker from a pack. "Who wants to do the honors? These are pretty quiet, so we should be good as far as our folks hearing goes."

Logan eyed the hill worriedly. "Should we be setting these off in the grass? It's a bit dry."

"We'll keep it on the road," Kendall assured him, taking the firecracker and the offered match from Carlos. "It'll be fine, man. You gotta relax." He set it on the ground, striking the match and lighting the fuse before hurriedly backing away. The firecracker went off almost instantly, emitting several sharp bangs and filling the air with smoke.

"That's nothing," James argued, grabbing his own from the box. "You have to make it look like the nice ones." He lit the fuse, hurling the firecracker in the air so it exploded just a few feet above their heads. The sound was deafening, and a neighbor a few houses down poked their head out of the front door.

"That did absolutely nothing," Logan scoffed. "There aren't any lights coming off it, James. There's no reason to throw it."

Carlos had just pulled one of the roman candles from the box, eagerly hurrying out into the middle of the street. "And that's why I bought these!" he said with a grin.

"I don't think you're supposed to hold that, 'Litos," Kendall replied tentatively as Carlos fumbled with the match to light the candle. "They're pretty strong."

"Well, where am I supposed to put it?" Carlos asked, the fuse now burning as he pointed the firework skyward.

Logan scoffed. "Probably anywhere but in your hand."

Carlos shrugged. "Too late now." He eyed the candle with a furrowed brow. "Did I do this right?" he asked after a moment, when the candle didn't ignite. "I thought the directions said-" He turned it over, allowing it to lay horizontally in his hands while keeping clear of the fuse.

"Carlos, no!" Logan shouted, while Kendall and James shouted similar warnings just as the firework exploded. Carlos screamed as the hot light shot out straight ahead, and, not knowing how to dispose of the lit candle, he began waving it around wildly.

"Carlos, put it down!" Kendall shouted over the noise, ducking as a small explosion sailed right over their heads.

"WHERE?!" Carlos cried, screaming as a gust of fire hit a tree just off the house of the last neighbor on their street. The tree went up in flames almost immediately.

Logan gaped. "What did you do?!" he yelled.

"You singed my hair!" James screamed, hands to his head as though he was engulfed in flames.

"Is that really the biggest issue here?!" Logan argued.

Kendall had begun frantically throwing handfuls of dirt at the tree, attempting to smother the flames. "Guys, we need to go," he called. "This is Ms. Mavis' place, she's going to kill us."

"Uh, we need to own up to it," Logan countered. "This is arson!"

Kendall came forward, narrowly dodging a rogue flame that was spat from the still burning roman candle. "I'll take the morality lesson another day when we aren't actively burning things down!"

"Let's go!" Carlos cried, darting behind the houses and back in the direction they came. The others followed suit, abandoning the box, and hurried past the intersection They reached the outside of the Diamonds' fence quickly, panting as they leaned against the gate.

"Hey," Logan said suddenly, eyeing Carlos suspiciously. "What'd you do with that roman candle?"

"I put it back in the box."

"You put it back-"

BOOM

The boys froze, wide-eyed at the ridiculously loud explosion. There were several cries of alarm from inside the fence, followed by Carlos' father angrily shouting, "What was that?!"

Carlos winced.

Yeah, they were dead.

1. I watched someone once surround a propane tank with firewood in the base of a grill because they were under the impression that's how it worked. I'm serious.

2. One of my classmates once held a roman candle in his hand and nearly set half his block on fire. Hilarious, if I'm being honest LOL. Everyone was fine.

God bless