Greg Tom had weaseled his way out of church for three months. His family wouldn't admit it, but it was now a de facto truth that he didn't go.
The promise of heaven, he thought, was far less material than the promise of college. It was the night of his senior prom.
Also convenient was that you don't need to die to get into college. He was on the roof, skipping the slow dancing, talking to his date.
To finish the metaphor, high school must be the earth. Kimberly had all of Tom's attention at that moment.
They spoke of the future as if they knew a single thing about it. Unbroken gray clouds shaded the early summer day.
A familiar car pulled up on the street below. Before placing it, Tom was distracted by a stairwell exit door opening behind him.
"Well look, some fuckers are already up here." Three boys stepped onto the roof. Tom idly looked past them for their dates.
They were not there. "Yeah, us fuckers are here," Tom started, knowing these boys, knowing he had to push back if he wanted to avoid trouble
The talkiest of the three intruders was named Justin Orvis. His too-large rented tux concealed his rugby physique, but Tom remembered it.
"Well get your asses out." Justin responded. "We got a tradition to uphold."
