"If one advances confidently in the direction of their dreams and endeavors to lead a life which they have imagined, they will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."

—Henry David Thoreau

"Wild sex, Josh. That's what it's all about." Fred spun the lug nuts with his socket wrench.

"Sure. That's a good line. Tomorrow at school, you go stand in the hall and say, `Wild sex,' and I'll bet some babe will crawl right into your arms. Knock you down on the spot." Josh was balancing the left front tire and laughing at the same time. "In fact, if you're right about how hot these girls are, then you may not even have to say anything. Just let those biceps peek out from under your shirtsleeves and you'll get jumped, ready or not."

"No. No, just listen." He was interrupted by the double ring of the bell. Josh laughed and headed out the door to pump gas.

"Hi, Mr. Lawrence. Fill `er up? Hey, this car's new. Looks nice, Mr. Lawrence. You gonna bring it in, let us work on it?"

"It's still under warranty, Josh. Maybe an oil and a lube later this spring."

"Yeah, you call this spring? I know the calendar says spring started last Friday, but how come March is so cold? Whoops, you're full. Twelve dollars, on your account, Mr. Lawrence?" Josh jammed the nozzle back into the pump.

"Thanks, Josh. Take care." The grey Taurus paused and then pulled out into the empty street. Josh watched it disappear in the dusk and was suddenly caught by surprise.

A flaming path of red cut through the bare trees and spread itself across the frozen streets. It seemed a golden road of light that beckoned to him. Just one step, he thought, just one step along that glowing brick road, and I'd never come back.

Instead, he retraced his steps to the warmth of the gas station and Fred's endless prattle. The inspection they were working on for a '96 Accord was almost finished. The rest of the night promised to be easy, even if Fred was wound up tight, ranting and raving about his favorite subject. Josh guessed, correctly, that Fred wouldn't miss a beat, would continue as if Josh had never been gone.

"I'm not saying that I'm a babe magnet, that they're going to chase me round and round the school. But look at this. Look at it." Fred held out a crumbled news clipping. "Seventy-three percent of all high school seniors claim to have had sex at some point during the previous month. Seventy-three percent. That leaves us in the bottom quarter of our class. In grades and in sex!" He gave the hub cap a whack with a rubber mallet but it crashed to the concrete.

"There's a metaphor for your life, Fred. You're just a hub cap rockin' and rollin' on the floor." Josh had finished the front tire and gave it a decisive spin to emphasize his point.

"Goddam poet. Let's talk facts. Here are the facts as I see them. One. There are eight girls and thirteen boys in our biology class. Biology, for Pete's sake. Why would anyone take biology except to study sex? And seventy-three percent of eight is six. Six of those girls. Think about it. And seventy-three percent of thirteen is. . . . Nine. Or ten. Or eight. Anyway, it's right up there. And if we're not gettin' it, then think about who is. I mean, if it's not us, then it must be Barry and Carl. And if you believe that, then no wonder no one wants us." Fred flung his socket driver down and spit.

"Well, the way I see it, it's simple. Go into school tomorrow and join that seventy-three percent." Josh gave Fred an easy smile.

"Right. That's what I'm sayin'. We need to start making some moves."

"Nope. Easier than that." The smile was broadening. Josh struggled to keep from laughing.

"What? You got a plan? You holdin' out on me?" Fred was starting to salivate.

"Sure. It's easy." If Josh could just hold onto the laughter.

"Tell me. Tell me what I gotta do." Fred should have learned not to beg, should know that it just set Josh up.

"Okay. Okay, now listen. Here's the plan. We get to school tomorrow, you wear one of your tight tee shirts, and we hang out by our lockers, just posturing a lot. And then you know those girls that get together every morning outside the girls' bathroom? The really hot ones?" Josh had Fred now, could work him like a fish.

"Them? We're gonna put moves on them?" Fred's mouth was hanging open.

"Well, sort of." Josh smiled.

"Sort of? What d'ya mean, sort of?"

"Well, we sort of amble by them, looking our studly selves. And then we saunter into the classroom, cool, real cool. And then we settle down in the back of the room and we have inscrutable smiles." Josh's grin was ready to explode.

"And then? And then what?"

"And then we wait until the other guys gather round. And then we claim to have had sex." Josh held his breath.

"What are you talkin'? What d'ya mean? Wait a minute. . . ." A slow wave of understanding washed over Fred.

"Your article says that seventy-three percent claimed to have had sex. All we have to do is make the same claim and we're in. We may even raise the percentage." Josh watched Fred carefully.

"Why. . . . Wait a minute. . . . You. . . . You are one crazy son of a bitch. I'm going to. . . ." Josh was already at the door. Fred spun around the lift and charged after him but Josh collapsed in a fit of laughter. He grabbed himself and rolled back and forth. He choked and then laughed again. Fred circled menacingly.

"The way I see it, Fred. . . . The way I see it. . . ." The laughter was interfering with Josh's speech. "The way I see it, is that some people do it. And some people talk about it. And if seventy-three percent are talking about it, that leaves seventeen percent who are doing it." He sprawled out onto the floor.

"So what are you saying?" Fred tried to keep a threatening stance.

"You're the one talkin'. . . ."

"Oh, I get it. I get it. I'm talkin' and gettin' nothin'. And you're not talkin', so you're gettin' wild sex all night long, every night? Is that what you're sayin'?" The humor was gone. The fight was gone. The question hung in the air.

Josh let his body go limp, still stretched out on the floor. "No, that's not it." His voice was quiet. "That's not it at all. Me? I'm in the ten percent that no one even bothers to ask."