The screen door slammed behind him as Oliver raced out of the house.
"Get back here!" Duane screamed from inside, "You can not talk to your mother like that!"
Oliver picked up his bike and pedaled off, ignoring the threats tumbling out of the door. The brisk November air blew his windbreaker up as he pedaled, it puffing up like some kind of sail behind him.
They just didn't understand. No matter what he did, it always turned out wrong. He wasn't trying to start a fight with stupid Duane, or his mom either. It always just seemed to happen.
Ever since Duane showed up with his stupid moustache everything had gone horribly wrong.
He turned the corner, whizzing past culdesacs and parked minivans. Oliver came to a wrenching halt outside a two-story brick house, letting his bike fall onto the grass. He knocked on the door.
"Hello? Oh hi, Oliver, come on in," a tall lady said answering the door. She wiped her hands on her floral apron. "Damon's just upstairs. I'm making cupcakes if you w