Ralph drives me home as fast as possible, but as we're getting there, we spot police cars from a distance parked in front of my house; the first I've seen of them since I arrived in Maple Heights. This immediately gives me room to breathe a little, knowing that at least the threat shouldn't, in theory at least, be around. Funny thought, though, because the police in Maple Heights isn't the most reliable thing to begin with.

"Do you think they caught them?" Newt asks with a small spark of hope.

"Don't count on it," Ralph says. Eugene's blue truck comes to a stop a block before the house. I look up at Ralph, wondering if he won't go all the way there, but he just frowns. "We don't get along with the cops, as you can imagine," he explains. "But I'll let Gene know they're here. He kind of knows people there."

That makes sense, I guess. I get off the van, giving the group one last glance. "Take good care of Newt."

"Good luck, kid," Ajax replies, and then the van makes a u-turn before driving off in the general direction of the farm.

I turn on my heels and head home. The huge spray paint that reads "THE FIST" across the façade can be read from quite some distance. Fucking wannabes. Then there's all the smashed glass from every single window. I walk past one of the cars on the front of the house, and when I'm opening the gate, a hand stops me.

"Wait, kid. Who are you?"

I turn to the man who stopped me, a slim cop with a handy strapped to his chest.

"I live here."

The guy gives me a once-over and nods. "We're currently working here. I'm going to ask you to stay out here for a little while, okay?"

I look back at him for a second, lift an eyebrow, and jump over the fence before he can do anything about it. He calls out after me, saying I can't go in and whatnot, but I'm already at the door by the time he opens the gate. Then yet another cop, this one the size of Eugene, covers the entire doorframe, signaling the other cop to stand back.

"What are you doing here, son?"

"This is my house, my mother and grandmother are in there, so let me see them."

"Didn't the officer over there tell you to wait outside?"

"He did, and this is me not caring. This is my house, my family is in there, and I don't think I need your permission to enter," I tell the man, but not only he's not budging, he's also blocking my view so I can't see anything inside, so I call out, "Mom! Are you in there?"

"John? Is that you?"

"Mom! Are you okay?"

"That's one of them, officer!" Grandma roars from the back. "Put him in jail!"

"Mom, please. You're not helping," my mom replies after her.

The huge officer stands aside, finally letting me in. A hint of an amused smile covers his face. "Please try not to touch anything."

"I know. I've watched enough movies," I reply, making my way to the kitchen, avoiding the broken glass peppering the floor. Other than that, the house looks pretty much the same, though, so I bet they didn't actually break in. In the kitchen, Mom is sitting at the table with Grandma and bandaging her head. The first thing I notice is how calm she looks while doing this, because of how fucking weird it is. So weird, that my first words to her are dumb as bricks. "Mom, what happened?"

Dumb, because I know exactly what happened and who's responsible for it.

"I wish I knew," she says, addressing me with a weary smile. "I was getting things ready for lunch when Grandma started screaming, and then a group of kids were throwing stones at the house. They hit Grandma in the head."

"What about you?" I ask.

"I'm fine. Scared, obviously, but fine," she says, and her eyes linger on mine way longer than I'd like. I know what she's thinking even before the words come out of her mouth. "Do you know those kids, John?"

I try to stay calm, but words sort of betray me and I get defensive. "Does it change anything whether I know them or not?"

"So you do."

I look away. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Then maybe, or maybe not, we should think about switching you to some other school in Preston," Mom says, more serious now.

"Yeah, not gonna happen."

"I don't believe that's up for you to choose anymore, John."

"Anymore? I mean, was it ever?" I reply, acidly. "I never get to choose a damn thing. Like that time back in Sunset Central when you asked me how did I like Celadon Bay? It wasn't a choice. And that other time you talked to me on Aloha's basement to tell me we would relocate here? Also not a choice."

"Stop it. This is different," Mom says, raising her voice above mine. "You're in trouble with dangerous people, John. I rather pull you out of that while I still can."

"And I can already tell you that it won't work the way you're expecting it to," I reply, even louder.

"You don't know that!"

"Actually, I do! That's what Newt did, and it didn't stop a damn thing!" I counter. "But you wouldn't know, because you don't even know who Newt is."

"Maybe I would know if you told me anything about yourself!"

"Maybe because I was always expected to fend for myself! I am exactly who you raised me to be, and you're pretending that changing me to another school is going to fix that! It won't!"

"That's not true, John!"

"Come on, Mom. You babysat Grandma more since we arrived here than you ever tried to be my mother. How do you even expect me to trust you with anything at all?"

"That's enough!" Mom finally snaps, bringing my speech to a stop. I watch her swallow, and her eyes go bright with tears.

I bring my voice to a whisper, looking away from her. "I thought you wanted to know more about me."

"Are the two of you done bickering yet?" Grandma says, grumpy as usual. I wonder if this is her way to say she's still in the room. "You, young man, have lost your way. I may be old and perhaps crazy, but I remember when you were a little kid, and your mother said 'A' you'd repeat 'A' right after with a proud smile. And now you're this disrespectful, disgusting and stubborn young boy who plays at being a man, gets into fights, and does nothing but contradict every single thing your mother says to you." She then turns around to Mom, lifting an accusatory index finger. "And you don't get to complain, Elizabeth. God knows that your own genes run strong there. Or did you forget how and why you left the house with that man twenty years ago? How you told me to my face that you couldn't bear living with me anymore? How I was too strict and controlling? How you hoped you would never grow up to be a mother like me?"

Did hell freeze over, or is Grandma actually defending me? That rock pegged her harder than I thought.

"Thank goodness I'm nowhere like that," Mom replies dismissively.

"You are exactly like me, and this is the result," Grandma says. "Your boy grew up, and got fed up with you, just like you and your brother did with me."

"Whatever, Mom," my mother replies, rolling her eyes, and I can't help but chuckle. I almost forgot Mom's late teenage rebellion.

Since Grandma mentioned him, I wonder, "Does Dad know what happened here?"

"I called your father before calling the police," Mom replies. "He said he'd be here right away. It's weird he's not here yet, come to think of it."

The police made it here before Dad? That is some weird dung right there. And then, my phone goes off again. I check it out, only to realize it's them again, calling me from Newt's phone. I return Mom's questioning look with a worried one. My feet start moving even before the pieces fall into place. "They are at Sad Aloha."