That afternoon, I was fired up to go and play, but Bones didn’t want to. He didn’t think the ice was safe. I told him that it had been really cold for two straight days and other kids had skated on the lake the day before, so it’d be fine, but Bones just shook his head no, refusing.

Finally, I convinced him to at least ride down to the lake with me, and I teased him the whole way there for being a wimp, especially since I was usually the one who was the worrywart between the two of us. I knew Bones was serious about not playing because he hadn’t even brought his lucky, black-striped bat.

He had wound electrical tape around the bat so that it looked a black-and-yellow candy cane. I told him at least five times on the ride to the lake that I wasn’t going to let him use my bat just because he was acting like a complete moron. 

When we got to the lake, about ten kids were already out riding their bikes on the ice and it looked to me like Bones was pretty unhappy about not bringing his bat. (Later, though, Bones told me that what I had thought was his bummed-out face was actually his super-worried face.) 

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