soon.”
        “So early?” Skip protested. “The sun’s still out.”
        “We eat early on Sunday,” he explained.
        Skip looked at Conner. “Do you want to go?”
        Conner didn’t really want to go either and knew his mother would forbid it, but knew he would already be in trouble if she knew he’d wandered this far, so he said, “Okay.” And he wanted to get away from Skip’s house before he saw his father again, or before his father saw him.
        David went home and Skip and Conner walked to the end of the block and around the corner to Victory Blvd. Victory was a much busier road with cars zipping back and forth. Conner knew he was treading into strictly forbidden territory now, but when Skip said, “C’mon!” and dashed across the street, he instinctively followed. He was a few yards behind Skip and a car had to brake sharply to avoid him, its tires screeching, but he made it safely.
        Just past the the road there was a trench forty feet deep and forty feet across where a sewer line was being installed. Because it was Sunday, the site was abandoned and Skip and Conner could sneak past all the barriers and get as close as they wanted.
        They stepped to the edge of the chasm and gazed down at the pool of brown water. Skip said, “Watch this!” and heaved a big dusty rock, watching it sail downward, then kerplunk noisily into the water, making them both laugh.
        Conner retrieved a rock and threw it, then they both collected an armful of rocks and dirt clods and threw them one after another, watching them splash and disappear beneath the surface. At that moment, Conner thought this was the most glorious activity ever.
        But he wanted a closer vantage point, so he followed a narrow ledge that angled down the side of the trench to a small shelf about five feet from the top. Almost immediately, he stepped into a puddle. He thought it was shallow, but the bottom was soft and without warning he slid in up to his waist, his feet quickly tangled in thick ooze. When he tried to pull himself up, he was stuck fast, mud to his chest.
        From above, Skip yelled, “C’mon!”
        “I can’t get out!” Conner shouted, becoming panicky. The more he pulled, the more snugly he was trapped. He was sure he could extricate himself, but no matter how hard he pulled, he could not get out. He screamed for Skip to help, but he had left. Bleakly he wondered if he would be here all night.
        After a while, he saw two other kids on the cliff above. In a rage he tried to pull himself out