Fled and Rita walked toward Rick's porch holding hands.

"Rick," she yelled, from the edge of Rick's lawn. He was at his door, about to go inside, when he heard, "don't shut that." Rita broke from Fled and sprinted to the door.

"Hey, what's up?" Rick smiled.

"We need you to come to the meeting tonight," Rita said. "The one I told you about." Fled caught up, winded, and stood behind her.

"Meeting?"

"Town Council. They're voting on the school bond. We need your support."

Rick said, "I told you, Rita. I don't follow the issues. And I have to say, without knowing the details . . . "

"Rick, you don't know shit . . . "

" . . . spending 80 million dollars for a small extension on the middle school, and a brick inlayed parking lot, seems high."

"The kids need to learn, Rick. Don't you think the kids should learn?"

"I don't have kids, Rita. Remember? But yes, generally speaking, I would say . . ."

"And do you think they should be stuffed into tiny overcrowded classrooms like vermin, like rats in a shoe box . . ."

"From what I hear, there are 18, 20 kids in a class. When I was a kid, we had 32 . . . "

"Nobody gives a shit when you were in school . . ."

Fled put his hand gently on Rita's shoulder. She shot around, a rocket, and his hand dropped off instantly. Rita turned back to Rick with a wide smile.

"So, honey, we'll see you at eight. Right?"

"Yea," Rick said. "Eight."

"Give my best to Jenna," Rita said, as she and Fled turned around. "We're looking forward to getting together again. A barbecue. When she gets back from her business trip."

Rick nodded, and watched Rita and Fled's two kids on bicycles, one with training wheels, crash into the curb simultaneously and, simultaneously, start screaming at each other. ...read more Rick and Fled