LITMIR.BIZ

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      I told her the whole story, grateful that she totally backed me up about confronting Benson.

      “I would’ve punched him in the nose.” Her indignation on my behalf made me feel momentarily better.

      “You aren’t far off.” I filled her in on Quincy’s one-sided fight and Yollie’s visit.

      She was quiet for a minute. “Oh man, that’s tough,” she said. “I guess you have to suck it up and apologize. I bet he’ll come around if you throw around words like ‘creative genius’ and not understanding his ‘creative process.’”

      “Shoot,” I said. “You’re right.”

      “I’ll be over soon to pick up a few costumes,” she said. “You can practice falling on your sword.”

      “Have you met the goats yet?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

      “No!” she said. “But I’m willing to put these costumes aside for a visit.”

      “Let’s go see them when you get here,” I said.

      Ten minutes later, Lani arrived on her bright pink Schwinn cruiser with a flowered basket on the front. She bounced the bicycle up the porch steps and leaned it against the wooden rail.

      “How are you going to take costumes home on that?” I asked.

      She slid off her pink backpack that she’d decorated with painted flowers, and held it up in a “Ta-Da!” fashion. “They’ll squish in.” Then she took a deep dramatic sniff. “I smell coffee.”

      I reached for a Meowio travel mug with paw prints running across it from behind the rocking chair and handed it to her. “Bless you, my child,” she said and took a sip. Lani suffered from chronic indigestion and her wife Piper was a pediatrician who didn’t allow coffee in their house because it sometimes caused a flare-up. As a fellow caffeine addict, I understood that the risks sometimes outweighed the costs, especially where coffee was concerned.

      We were on our way to the farm when we saw Joss and Kai walking toward us with the goats on leashes. The goats didn’t know what to make of that, pulling this way and that, and getting the leashes tangled around their legs. Their bleating sounded like complaining today.

      “That looks fun,” I said when we were close enough to talk. “I never knew goats could be leash trained.”

      “They can,” Kai said. “But it’s going to take a lot of work.” She looked up at her dad, as if assigning the job to him. “Did I tell you that Percy and Pegasus are Nigerian Dwarf goats? My mom thought they were Nubian goats, but they’re Nigerian goats. When they get bigger, we’re going to milk them and make cheese. Isn’t that cool?”

      It was so cute how earnest ten-year-old girls could be. “That is definitely cool. I love goat cheese.”

      “And they’re really smart too,” she said. “I’m going to teach them tricks!”

      Lani dropped down to sit on the ground and both goats climbed on her. “Oof,” she said, as Pegasus jumped off and caught her in the side. Then he gently butted his head against her as if to apologize. “It’s okay. You’re just a baby, aren’t you? Trying to figure out how all of those legs work.”

      Percy seemed to take to the leash better. He crawled right into Lani’s lap, curled up and put his head on her knee as if going to sleep.

      “I think Percy needs a nap,” I said, and reached down to pet him behind his floppy ears.

      “He likes cozy things,” Kai said. She bent over to gently scold him. “Percy, it’s time to go. You need your exercise.”

      Kai was as cute as the goats.

      * * * *

      Yollie texted me right at eleven and I came outside to join her in her car, trying not to feel like a teenager who was being forced to apologize for something that was not my fault.

      Tension seemed to radiate from Yollie’s body, as if she still wasn’t sure this was the right move. I didn’t bother with small talk, worried that anything I said would make her blow up.

      She parked in Benson’s ten-minute parking zone, the car jerking to a stop as her nerves got the best of her. “Sorry,” she said, and took a deep breath.

      Her agitation was contagious, and I had to force my shoulders to relax as we walked up to Benson’s house. Clouds had moved in, getting darker gray as the day wore on. While everyone was hoping for the first major rainfall of the season, I couldn’t help but think of them as an omen.

      Yollie took the lead and knocked on the door.

      No answer. She knocked again and I felt a wave of relief when no one answered.

      “Well, that’s anticlimactic,” I said.

      She frowned.

      Okay, I got it. No joking allowed. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m nervous.”

      She didn’t respond.

      “Should we try the garage?” I asked.

      She tipped her head, listening for music, but the garage was silent. “I guess. It doesn’t seem like he’s practicing.”

      We walked down the driveway, the scuffling of the leaves now just sounding sad. The sky blue door seemed to beckon us, like a candy house in a fairy tale.

      I smelled a whiff of rotten eggs and ignored it at first. Then the scent grew too strong not to say something. “Is that gas?” I asked.

      Yollie nodded. “Natural gas, right?”

      We stuck our noses in the air like bloodhounds, trying to track down where it was coming from. The scent grew even stronger as we moved closer to the garage.

      “Is it going to blow up?” I asked.

      She looked uneasy. “The concentration has to be crazy high to do that,” she said. “I called the gas company once when we had a small leak and they told me that.”

      We stopped and eyed each other nervously, the smell of gas a clear warning. “This seems pretty concentrated,” I said, wanting to hold my nose and run away.

      “What if he’s in there?” she asked. “That can’t be healthy.”

      I reached for the doorknob.

      “Stop!” she said quickly. “What if the door makes a spark?”

      My heart raced. “I don’t think that’s the way it works.” I might have been trying to convince myself. “Okay.” I pointed down the driveway. “You go down there and call 911. According to one online video I’ve seen, a cell phone can start a fire.” I straightened my shoulders. “I’ll go peek in there and see if he’s okay.” The idea of Schrödinger’s cat popped into my head. Right now that blue door was Schrödinger’s door. We didn’t know if anyone was even inside the garage, let alone affected by the gas.

      Yollie ran halfway down the driveway and pulled out her phone. After listening to the message, she clicked a button, which sounded cartoonishly loud. “Hi, I’d like to report a gas leak.”

      I ever so slowly turned the door knob, the creak it made sending me into a tizzy. An intense smell of gas swooshed over me as I pulled open the door.

      Two feet in black biker boots that I recognized were splayed on the floor. They were connected to two legs, and the rest of Benson.

      “He’s in here!” I said. “Hold the door for me!”

      She took a few steps toward me, and then stopped to throw her phone to the ground before running back to me. She held the door open with one foot, straining to see inside. “Hurry! That gas smells awful!”

      He was face down but it was definitely Benson. I grabbed him by the ankles, pulling him as fast as I could outside, his head bumping on the one step to the

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