Free Beauty and the Bully by Andy Behrens

was located in a recently annexed section of Maple Grove, near a cluster of industrial buildings. They sat anxiously in the late-morning light, sipping.
    â€œSo we’ll just observe Sloth,” Duncan said. “In his natural habitat. If we don’t think he can help, we move on.”
    â€œTo what?” asked Stew.
    â€œThere’s always a plan B.”
    â€œI’m guessing plan B involves Carly tied up in the back of a rented van,” said Jessie.
    Duncan laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’m not old enough to rent a van.” He slid down low in the front seat and stuck his feet outside the window.
    â€œAll feet must be inside the car, please,” said Jessie.
    â€œWhy, do you have sexual fantasies that involve the passenger-side front window?”
    She flicked Duncan’s ear with her finger. “No, I do not. But I’ve seen lots of films where cops go on stakeouts, and I’ve never once seen a fictional detective sit with his feet out the window. It’s not done.”
    â€œUm . . . we’re not cops.” Duncan removed the plastic lid of his coffee and swirled it with his index finger. “I was just trying to be casual in case anyone noticed us.”
    â€œLike who?” asked Stew. “The Mallard Brooke security force? Not likely.”
    Duncan looked up to the apartment in which he believed Sloth resided. Sunlight glinted off the tiny windows and the brown metal balcony. A gray stairwell was strewn with discarded beer cans and fast-food bags. The shrubs were overgrown. The grass was beige.
    â€œThe Gleeman family doesn’t seem to be doing well,” he said.
    â€œThis place has perks,” said Jess. “See, there’s a pool.”
    She pointed toward a small rectangular pit that was covered by a layer of dead leaves. A lifeguard’s chair was on its side. The pool was surrounded by a padlocked fence.
    â€œIf I ever do have that sex on my hood, get pregnant, drop out of school, and get kicked out of my house, I’m totally moving in here.”
    They sat in the Mallard Brooke lot until nearly noon, surveying the infrastructure. No one bothered them. In fact, very few residents or visitors appeared.
    â€œWe should leave,” Duncan eventually said. “This is insane.”
    â€œOh, c’mon,” said Jessie. “I thought you were in love .” She made exaggerated smooching sounds in Duncan’s direction.
    â€œI’m getting uneasy,” he said. “I’m also getting hungry. But mostly uneasy.”
    â€œAbout what? About this incredibly twisted, desperate plot to deceive the girl of your dreams through an unnecessarily complicated act of trickery? One that can’t possibly end with her happy and you guiltless, by the way.”
    â€œNo, no. I’m cool with that.”
    â€œOh, good. I thought you were getting all weenie on me.”
    â€œNo, I’m uneasy about Sloth.” Duncan crumpled his empty cup.
    â€œLet’s suppose we eventually do see a large, young, furry dude. What then?” He shifted in his seat. “I’m just uneasy.”
    â€œI’ve got your back,” said Jess.
    â€œNo offense, since you’ve recently kicked my ass, but I’d feel better if I had more backup than a tiny punk rock girl and a nonviolent bassist.” Duncan turned to face Stew, who was sprawled across the backseat. “Bassists are supposed to be notorious brawlers, by the way.”
    â€œI took tae kwon do for six months,” he answered.
    â€œWe were seven,” said Duncan.
    â€œI broke a board with my elbow.” Stew made a slow chopping motion in Duncan’s direction.
    â€œCan we please just get some lunch?” Duncan pleaded. “We can come ba—”
    A gray-green Chevy screeched into a parking spot on the opposite side of the lot. A name appeared across the rear window in Old English script:

    Stew bolted