After just a few minutes, it was apparent that Stevie wasn’t smart. Not in a typical sense, anyway. If you had told my Aunt Agatha that, she would have said that it was merely a trick.

“Stevie? You can’t stay here. But, I know where you can go.” I took his hand, and led him between bushes, trees, and creeks. Finally, we reached my grade-A, top-secret hideout; an abandoned bus.

“There’s a blanket there. A few crackers under the backseat.” I turned to him. “Nobody’s gonna find you.” Stevie crawled into the frontseat. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a picture. “I’ll protect you.” He whispered to the picture. He cupped his hands around it, and put it to his ear. Stevie’s voice changed; it became deep and gruff, and a long string of curses came out of it. Suddenly, with eyes filled with tears. “Don’t say stuff like that, Jeffie. I will protect you.”
“Stevie? I’m leaving.” My words had pulled him out of his trance. What have you gotten yourself into, Louie?