When Justin Bock rolled out of bed on the first day of the three day Labor Day weekend, he felt queasy. Trying not to think about it, he dodged around the white fluffy mound of Tom, the Great Pyrenees dog sleeping in the hallway, and barely made it to the bathroom in time.

“Blort,” he said into the toilet bowl, throwing up a mouthful of vile tasting liquid.

After rinsing his mouth out twice, once with water and once with mouthwash Justin felt immediately better. He didn't think any more about it, though he wasn't particularly hungry at breakfast.

"Just toast and peanut butter?" his dad asked.

"And juice and a banana," Justin pointed out.

His father shrugged. Ever since his wife and daughter had died in the accident and left him with the raising of a teenage son, Harold Bock had felt inadequate much of the time. Perhaps his confinement to a wheelchair added to his feelings; it certainly didn't help.

Justin couldn't stand it when his dad looked at him with those worried eyes so he hurried off to meet his friends who had planned an early morning trip to the mall to see the newest crop of movies. "No," he told Tom, the dog, as the big animal attempted to follow him out the back door. "See you tonight, Dad."

"See you," Harold said. He put down his coffee and stopped himself from telling his son to be good or to be careful or some other parental inanity. Justin disappeared and Harold watched the doorknob rattle as the boy tested to be sure it had locked.

Tom made one of his trademark moans and lay down across the opening to the laundry room, looking very much like a hundred and five pounds of dirty white linen.

"He'll be back in time for dinner," Harold told the dog. He rolled himself over to where he could scratch the yellowish ears that stuck up like pale furry tulips. The club-like white tail thumped twice to show that Tom understood and felt reassured.

Justin walked down the alley behind the green stucco ranch-style he shared with his dad in an older part of Riverside, California. The big outdoor mall where the day's activities were planned was almost two miles away, farther than he wanted to walk on a late summer day, especially since he would be coming back in mid-afternoon.

At fifteen, Justin did not yet have a driver's license nor did most of his friends. Pete Marquez, a year older than everyone else, did have a license and an old Dodge van and everyone would be meeting at Pete's or would be picked up on the way. So, Justin headed through the alleys toward the apartment building near the college where Pete lived.

The sun already felt hot at a few minutes before nine in the morning, it would be a scorcher later. At least the humidity remained low and a blue sky as clear and featureless as a freshly-painted ceiling held no hint of smog.

Justin's anticipation grew with every step. This mall outing would be the first time since the July Fourth weekend that the gang would all be together. In particular, Zoe Clark would be there and Justin could hardly wait. He had a hard time only walking the last block and in fact, did break into a trot when he saw the back gate of the parking lot at Pete's apartment building.

Not quite running, he crossed the lot, took the steps two at once and rapped on the door marked 1D. Pete opened immediately and as soon as Justin saw his face he knew that some sort of bad news had been waiting for him.

Pete didn't make him wait to find out. "How come you don't have a cell phone, Juice? I tried to call."

"I do have a cell phone," said Justin. "I just don't have it on most of the time 'cause it's a pay-as-you-go."

"You shoulda had it on. I can't drive the car for us. I got a ticket and I'm grounded."

"What?" said Justin, not quite believing it.

"Six weeks with no car," said Pete. "I can't drive till we get our first mid-terms out of the way."

"Oh, man!" said Justin.

"Dude," said the third boy in the room, Vincent Richmond.

"Hey, Vince," said Justin.

"Dude," Vince repeated with a different emphasis.

"Yeah, huh?" said Justin.

"I couldn't help it. That cop was waiting for me to turn right. Every other corner in California, it's legal to turn right on red. But not that one," said Pete.

"Didn't see the sign," said Vince.

"Or the cop, apparently," said Justin.

"Dude," said Pete.

The three boys collapsed on the furniture the way only teenagers can.

"How we going to get to the mall?" Justin asked.

Pete shrugged. "I can't go, I told you, I'm grounded."

Vince said a curse word.

"Dude," said Pete. "Don't get your ass kicked out of here. At least you guys can still come over."

Vince shrugged.

Justin felt distressed. "We were gonna meet, uh, meet the girls there. Pick them up on the way, I mean."

"Can't," said Pete. "I already called them, they've made other plans. Carmina and Jenn gonna see some chick flick. They didn't wanna wait so Jenn's father is dropping them off and picking them up."

"What about Zoe?" asked Justin. His throat seemed to tighten up on him and he struggled to talk without squeaking.

"She already bailed. She's too old for you, Juice," said Vince, using the nickname Justin had been unable to escape since second grade.

"She's not," said Justin. "We had a date back in July."

"She's seventeen," Pete said. "She went out with you because her boyfriend was out of town. You know, Ramiro Leon? He's going to RCC." Meaning the local junior college which was almost across the street from Pete's apartment.

"Romeo Leon," said Vince. "They say Zoe likes the size of his dick."

"Dude," said Pete. "My mom is out in the garden, she hears you talking like that, you are outta here."

Vince smirked.

Justin stood suddenly and almost ran toward the bathroom.

"You gonna throw up?" asked Pete, surprised by the look on Justin's face.

Justin made it to the bathroom and got the toilet lid up before he tossed a vile yellow liquid into the bowl. Nothing solid came up but his stomach ached, his eyes burned and tears leaked down his face. He closed the bathroom door, not wanting the guys to see him cry.

He could hear them talking. "Whatsa matter with The Juicebox?" asked Vince.

"I dunno. I think he was really hung up on Zoe."

"Ah, she's a slut," said Vince. "A ballbreaker. When her boyfriend isn't around she flirts with younger guys just to fuck with their heads."

"Dude," said Pete, sounding angry. "I told you to watch your goddam language."

Justin flushed the toilet so he wouldn't hear any more. "But we..." he whispered as the water swirled away.