Free Five Moons of Pluto by Andre Jeter

dirty with traces of rust on it. Most gun buffs would throw it back into the lake, but not these two country boys. They found a gun and they’re going to keep it.
                           Russell reacts first, grabbing the gun with his filthy hand.
                           “Hey!” Billy-Joel shouts at him. “Gimme back!”
                           Russell smiles. “You’re too slow, Billy-Joel.” With the gun in his hand, he stretches his long arm into the air. Billy-Joel jumps up and down trying to reach it, but it gets him nowhere. Then Russell’s teasing smile widens, and Billy-Joel kicks him in the groin. The gun slips from Russell’s hand as he folds together and falls to the floor.
                           He rubs his privates for a few moments, waiting for his voice to come back. Then he looks up and says, “Jesus Christ, Billy-Joel! Whatcha gon’ do that for?”
                           “Don’t ya take the Lord’s name in vain.” Billy-Joel picks up the gun and begins rapidly wiping off the dirt on his already dirty shirt. He looks down at Russell. “You started this,” he tells him. “I found it, not you, ya hear?”
                           “I was gonna give it back,” Russell says evenly. The worst of the pain subsides, and he stands to his feet. He stomps his foot on the ground. “You didn’t hafta kick me in my balls. I know da good book says sometin’ ‘bout that.”
                           Billy-Joel touches the small stainless steel cross that hangs from around his neck. It was a gift from his nana, Mildred, a week before she died in her favorite wicker chair, watching Wheel-of-Fortune. Billy-Joel was taught the most important virtues for being a follower of the Lord from her: love, patience, kindness, forgiveness, and faith. Forgiveness was the one thing he didn’t want to remember, and he hated being tested on it.                    
                           “You right,” he says. “I’m sorry for kickin’ ya in da balls.” He holds out the gun to Russell. “Here, you can have it.”
                           Russell relents, shaking his head. “Nah, you can have it. You found it first.” He smiles, and Billy-Joel smiles too. “Just don’t go killin’ anybody wit’ that thing,” he adds.
                           Billy-Joel looks at him like he must be crazy for saying such a thing. “I ain’t gonna kill nobody. Besides, only non-believers are afraid of death.”
                           “You talkin’ a fool, Billy-Joel. Every man is afraid of death!”
                           Billy-Joel shrugs. “Not me,” he tells him. “When you understand the power of Christ, you can overcome death.” Russell starts to laugh at him, and Billy-Joel twists his face. “You makin’ fun of my Lord?”
                           Russell’s laughter stops. “When people die, they don’t come back from the dead like in those zombie movies.” His expression grows even more serious. “Hell, how come yo’ nana didn’t come back?”
                           Billy-Joel scratches his head and looks up to the sky. His nana had the greatest faith he had ever heard of—second only to Jesus Christ himself. Why didn’t she come back?
                           “Her faith was even smaller than a mustard seed,” he tells Russell.
                           Russell’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Mustards come in jars, not seeds.”
                           Billy-Joel shakes his head. “Her faith was too small, like—” he looks around, then points— “dat small, tiny rock over there.”
                           “Wow,”