Timmy leaned his bike against the neighbor’s oak, and strained to hear the conversation. His mom talking with a uniformed cop on the front porch couldn’t be good.

“Timmy, we need to talk to you,” his mom waved him over when she spotted him.

“Damn bitch sold me out,” Timmy mumbled as his wet feet shuffled toward the house.

The officer stepped off the porch, put his hand on Timmy’s shoulder and knelt down. "Son, I got some bad news. We found your friend Jenny Brockowitz down by the creek. "

“Is she ok?” Timmy fought back tears.

“I’m afraid she drowned, son. But don’t worry, we got the guy. It was the wino who lived under Baxter Street bridge. We have him in custody now.”

Big crocodile tears rolled down Timmy’s face as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you go inside and wash up,” his mom said. “I’ll start dinner soon.”

Timmy wiped away the tears with the back of his hand as he went inside. “Stupid Jenny,” Timmy smirked, “I told her she couldn’t hold her breath for 5 minutes.”