A note of warning crept into Mr. Pierce’s voice. “Mikey! I said—”
Behind me, the door flew open. I tumbled back out of Mr. Pierce’s line of sight and fell against Mikey’s legs. I was still snickering as I looked up into my friend’s face, and the glare he gave me got me laughing all over again. “Dickhead,” he muttered, kicking me in the side. “You can go home, you know.”
“You’d miss me,” I joked, and rolled away before he could kick me again.
Ignoring us, Mr. Pierce told his son, “Don’t you pull this s**t tonight. The guys are coming over for poker so I want you boys to stay up here out of sight. Got that, Mikey?”
Despite his size, Mikey still cowed to his father. With a whine in his voice, he started, “Da-ad, you said we could have pizza—”
“I’ll order you a pie.” Mr. Pierce always cal
