Conner decided to go on an adventure. He had become friends with a boy named David Fink at Lemay Street School. David was blonde with a crew cut, the popular close-cropped military style with a small cowlick slicked straight up in front. Conner liked the way David wore crisp blue jeans with neat two-inch cuffs and a white T-shirt. They sat close together in class and were both good dodge ball players. One day as they were waiting for the playground equipment to be collected, they talked about their home addresses and discovered that they lived close to one another, Conner at 17451 Hamlin, David at 17614 Gilmore. Conner told David he would come visit someday. David said, “Okay.”
        That Sunday afternoon, Conner’s mother was in the dining room sewing a dress for Celia, Celia scribbling into a coloring book spread out on the floor. He slipped as quietly as possible out the front door and out to the sidewalk. When he was sure he was safe, he walked to the corner where Encino Avenue crossed Hamlin, then one block over to the mysterious domain called Gilmore Street.
        As he moved past the strange houses and unfamiliar people, he felt like he was on an alien planet. Carefully he noted the addresses of each house, remembering his recent discovery that house numbers change in ascending or descending order depending on which direction you were going. He was reassured that these numbers were descending as he moved down the block.
        But he didn’t know that odd numbers were always on one side of the street and even numbers on the other and became concerned when David Fink’s house didn’t appear where it should. But then he saw David across the street chasing another boy, then catching him and wrestling him to the ground.
        “Hey David!”
        By the time he crossed the street, the two boys were standing and waiting for him. Conner told David he was here to visit like he said he would. David looked bewildered, then shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay. Skip and me are going to his house to get his sling shot. Do you want to come?”
        “Where?”
        “There,” they both said, pointing to a gray house two doors down.
        As the three walked to Skip’s house, Conner noticed a familiar blue Ford sedan in the driveway.
        He said to Skip, “Why is my father’s car here?”
        “That’s not your father’s car,” Skip said. “It’s Andy’s car.”
        Conner walked around the side and saw the familiar scratch on the driver’s door, then the torn red Yosemite sticker on the back bumper.