Jaycen Hill may have only been eight, but he was old enough to know when he had been lied to. The baseball game his father Tim had dragged him to that Sunday afternoon was not going to be "Fun," or "Over Soon." No, he knew full well what was was in store for him over the next three hours, and what it was going to be was "A Fuck."
Jaycen Hill had just learned that word from Bryce, that red-headed kid in Mrs. Kimball's class whose parents let him pierce his ears and watch R-rated movies, and as a result, Jaycen had quickly found every excuse to insert it into his ever-growing vernacular like a new shirt worn every day for a week despite the growing pit stains.