The Kings of Summer Page #3

Come on, come on, come on,

come on, come on.

Hey, Joe, do you know we've been

walking for half a mile?

I can tell

by how much we've bonded.

Well, we're lost, and, um...

you haven't said a word

this entire time, so...

How much longer?

I have no idea, Biaggio.

Let's just keep our wits,

and we'll get out of here.

Where are we?

Someplace they won't find you.

What?

Let's go, man.

We got a long walk home.

Hello? Hi.

Hi.

I just wanted to make sure

that you didn't

get shot last night.

No. No, no, no.

I survived.

I, uh, wound up getting stuck

with that kid Biaggio, though.

Oh, yeah, I spoke to him once.

He told me that his uncle died

on the Challenger.

That's the price

of space travel, right?

Uh... yeah, sure.

Um, so get ready for this.

Paul skedaddled on me

last night.

Uh, wow, that's...

that's a dick move.

Tools... out of the driveway now.

- I'm on the phone.

- Oh.

I don't give a sh*t.

Right now.

Is everything okay there?

- No!

- Who is this? Patrick?

- Kelly.

- Kelly. A girl.

- Jesus, that's

a pleasant surprise. -Dad...

Listen, Kelly, Joe can't talk

right now because he's grounded.

He will call

you back sometime

before his hot new bedtime

of 7:
30.

You have a good night.

Okay.

Tools. Now.

And if they're ruined,

you're going to work

the whole set off

this summer. I mean it.

A paper route.

Big Chief Indian Corn.

Goddamn Ohio Soccer Jazz.

I don't care.

You have your pick.

This bullshit ends today.

Yes, it does.

I can't walk

all day like this, Joe.

Okay.

We're almost there.

Just 50 yards.

Almost where?

What the hell

could you be showing me

in the woods right now?

What is this, Joe?

You want your room

facing sunrise or sunset?

My what?!

This is the site

of our new house, man.

What, like a tree house?

No, like a real house.

I'm moving out.

We're moving out.

What the hell are

you talking about?

My mom won't let me walk

around the house

without socks on.

She's definitely

not going to let us

live out here in the woods.

No one will

find us out here, Patrick.

This house,

this land, it's ours!

We make the rules, you know?

Like men!

So we're just going

to move out here

and, uh, build a house

from scratch?

How hard can it be?

Hold on... what is this kid

doing here?

I don't know.

I'm afraid to tell him to leave.

I don't know

what he's capable of.

Forget him.

Break ground with me, man.

Look, I'm sorry, Joe,

but I can't do this.

Call me when you get home.

Patrick?

So you wore

the blue shirt today?

Not the one

with the pocket?

- He's got the blue one on.

- Yeah.

Whoa, rope in

the attitude, mister.

This is your mother

you're speaking to.

- Come on, buddy. Come on.

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