The neighborhood branched out from the main street, weaving homes between old oaks and pines. Deep drainage ditches were dug on either side of the dirt road. Tall reeds crowded them; their roots buried in dry mud.

Most of the houses needed a new coat of paint. Politically affiliated signs had been stuck into clusters of lawns. Bikes were left leaning on chain link fences.

Devon sat in the passenger seat holding a cigarette out of the window. Some of the smoke drifted back in, mixing with the smell of pine and incoming rain. There was little wind despite the heavy black clouds rolling in overhead.

Chris and Jack sat in the backseat. They were all half-awake listening to the radio. The only stations coming in played reruns of lukewarm morning talk shows. Pulling into the gravel driveway covered the monotonous information dump about the latest financial crisis.

The house itself was a modest single-story. An old wooden fence blocked in the backyard. A white minivan was parked in the front yard; a bald patch in the grass stretched from it to the road. The first space in the driveway was taken by a black SUV. Evan came to a stop behind it.

The arguing could be heard from inside the car. A man and woman shouted incoherently at one another, muffled by the walls of the house. Evan shifted the car into park before sinking back into his seat.

“Wanna drive around for a bit until she leaves?” Devon asked. Evan leaned his head back to look at the ceiling.

“She’s not supposed to be here.” He rubbed at the side of his face.

“The backyard?” Chris suggested, his face paler than usual. The bumpy road hadn’t settled well with him.

“It’s gonna rain soon,” Evan said. The arguing died down, followed by an interior door slamming. 

A tall, slender woman with orange hair emerged from the front door. She slammed it along with the exterior screen door. Her face was red and blotchy behind a pair of glasses. 

When she spotted Evan’s car her shoulders dropped. Her hand shook too much as she wiped at dry tears. Evan turned the car off and got out as she took steps towards them.

“Why aren’t you at school?” She asked softly, stopping as he shut the driver-side door with a thud.

“Teacher in-service,” he lied, walking past her.

“Oh, ok.” She looked back at the car. “You’re not planning on having boys in your room, right?” Concern weighted on her thin brows. Jack bounced his knee, resisting the urge to run.

“They’re just friends, Mom,” Evan said flatly, waving the others along as he held the front door open. Devon was the first to follow. The other two quickly joined.

“I’ll be at Grandma’s, call me if you need anything,” she said, watching the group disappear into the house.

They filed through the front room. A square dining table was pushed up against a wall. On it was a hunting rifle set up to be cleaned. Two of the chairs were pushed into the table while the other two were used to hold coats. They walked down the hallway and turned into the second door on the right. 

Evan’s room was small, but there was enough space for the four of them. His unmade bed was pressed into the corner; the blue comforter haphazardly folded over half of it. The nightstand next to it held a desk lamp bent to aim up the wall. Two bean bags were on the floor facing away from the bed at the flat screen on the dresser.

Devon pressed the buttons on the game console under the T.V. and found a few controllers in the dresser drawer under it. The screen lit up with the console’s logo. Chris fell back into one of the bean bags. Devon sat on the other one next to him and handed him a controller. The game loaded up with dramatic fight music.

“So those are my parents,” Evan introduced sarcastically. His front pocket vibrated with a text.