“Talking to us.”
“I talk to people. I’m not a robot.” Leveling the purplish eyes at his mother.
She said, “Of course, honey.”
Another condescending smile aimed her way.
We turned to leave.
Crispin said, “They pretend to be adults but they’re not.”
“Who?”
“He and she, the party people. They pretended the party was all theirs but they were lying, it wasn’t.”
I said, “How do you know?”
“After they barred my entry I planned to conduct a commemoration of the confrontations. I walked over there and saw parents so I knew I didn’t have to bother.”
Haley Moman said, “You went over there? Ohmigod.”
Crispin said, “Don’t waste anxiety on events that didn’t occur.”
Milo said, “What were you planning to do?”
The boy’s lopsided smile reappeared and grew, filling the entire span of his lips. Gradually, as if joy were a gas that could inflate tissue.
Haley said, “Do I want to know this?”
“No, but they do,” said Crispin. “The plan was to deposit a large bowel movement on the property. At the entrance where stepping in it was most likely.”
His mother gasped.
Crispin flashed a V-sign. “I brought toilet paper and was going to also leave the used portions. Then I saw the parents and realized the plan should be aborted because they were liars and barring me had been a false gesture of dominance. So why bother donating my body chemistry to insignificant ants?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Haley hung her head.
I said, “How many parents did you see?”
“A mother and a father.”
“You knew they were parents because…”
“They weren’t adolescents. Their shape was adult, they walked with adult confidence and drove off.”
“Did you see their car?”
“It was dark,” said Crispin. “I heard it so it was there. Then it wasn’t because they left.”
“Did you hear these people say anything?”
“No.”
“Which way did they go?”
“North.”
“When did this happen, Crispin?”
