A brown haze hung across the South Bay like pond scum two thousand feet deep, eating away at Mt. Hamilton and its eroded companion peaks. Merciless sunshine ricocheted off the freeway. Weeds and shrubs were dissolving into desiccated stubble, fuel for another Great Silicon Valley Fire. The trees planted on the hills to the west after that event were struggling to keep their foothold, belying the name evergreens. The region needed a good rain to rinse the skies and recharge the earth. No use holding breath waiting, thought Charles.

He'd forgotten how much he hated it out here. His tongue pressed the insides of his lips, ready to utter the command that would cause the automobile to return to its berth. He didn't have to do this. He could remain in his sanctuary, in the company of his beautiful wife and children.

But he'd said he would come. The vow was forty-nine years old, a naïve first grade promise, but some covenants were not meant to be broken. Charles rubbed his forehead, memories peeling up layer by layer.

In his mind's eye Mrs. Harris her support pantyhose no longer able to restrain her middle-aged girth stalked the classroom, assigning seats. Charles did not realize it until years later, but Mrs. Harris was a missionary for social change. Her class contained large numbers of children of Vietnamese, Mexican, and African heritage, and she zealously mixed the races and genders. Probably the only reason two white boys like Charles and Bennie had ended up beside each other was because, with a surname like Goldman, Mrs. Harris was convinced Bennie was Jewish. All Charles and Bennie cared about was that they liked each other. Within a month, they declared themselves blood brothers for life.