Jack groaned. An annoying pressure pounded in his temples. His hand clamped onto a clump of grass. Pine needles and twigs were stuck into his back. Devon waved a peace sign at him while the tops of tall pine trees swayed behind his head. Clouds drifted by in the distance.

“Hey, how many fingers?” Devon asked. He was kneeling on the ground above Jack, trying to assess the damage Kyle had done.

“Two or three usually does it in my experience,” Chris mumbled. He’d moved to sit on top of the table to watch the hill. The caretakers didn’t seem to have noticed the commotion, even after Kyle’s frantic retreat. Devon rolled his eyes at the slut-sage advice.

“Two,” Jack said groggily, sitting up. The back of his left eye stung with a migraine. He ran his hand under his nose, assuming he’s gotten the snot knocked out of him. Red glazed the back of his hand. He groaned again and covered his face, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“Is it broken?” Chris asked, glancing back.

“It didn’t look broken,” Devon said, reaching to pry Jack’s wrists away to get a better look. Jack raised the arm quickly to avoid being touched. Devon retracted as his eyebrows knit together.

“It just hurts,” Jack said, turning away from them.

“He hit you pretty good,” Devon said, sitting back on the grass. He made a fist and tapped the side of his face to demonstrate where Kyle had struck. “Damn near cracked your head open on the way down.”

“Good thing he’s not rooming with us anymore,” Chris yawned, still watching the hill. 

That's too good to be true, Jack thought. “He’s-“ Jack was interrupted by the steady stream of iron filling his mouth. He leaned forward to let it fall out onto the grass.

“Pinch the bridge of your nose,” Devon said, demonstrating with one hand while using the other to get out another cigarette. Jack followed his instructions.

“He’s not?” he asked, his voice pinched in his nose.

“He turns eighteen in two days, so he’s on the couch with his stuff packed,” Devon said. He fumbled with the lighter before getting his cigarette lit. 

That would be Jack in April. The thought twisted his gut. He had to find a job.

“We got a pet rock to replace him,” Chris said, turning back towards the other two, satisfied that neither of the caretakers was going to make an appearance. Jack’s eyebrows squeezed together. A pet rock?

“We got a new roommate,” Devon elaborated, smoke highlighting the first few words.