When I had finished relieving myself, I considered hammering on Mikey’s door until he had no other choice but to open up. Then I figured Mr. Pierce would hear the commotion and come upstairs to yell at us, and if Mikey opened the door with his dad standing in the hallway, Mr. Pierce was sure to see the empty cans and bottles we’d left strewn across the floor. If I were going to get caught with beer, I’d rather it be in the act instead of after the fact. So I settled for hitting Mikey’s closed door with my fist, which set him snickering inside the bedroom—I know, I heard him when I pressed my ear to the wood. “You’re dead,” I growled, my mouth against the door jamb. “See if I bring you a beer.”
“You better!” Mikey hollered. The closeness of his voice startled me—he was right on the other s
