Years later, on Billy's 18th, he insisted we go down to that house at the end of the Path, and with all the courage a crate of Bud could muster, we did. I still remember standing outside at the ricket fence, remarking how little the place had changed since our youth. I remember the nostalgic taste of fear and how I almost hurled my half-drunk bottle of Sailor's Envy at the front door and ran away screaming all girl-like... just like Lil' Marvin did when he stood on that ant-hill back in the summer of '78. But I didn't. I gulped the other half of my bottle instead and cursed Billy under my beer-breath as we followed him in.