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George Sr. sighed. “Son, the cows won’t milk themselves, and your mother needs help with the laundry.”
Across the field, Billy Sparks was riding his bike. He had his iPod Shuffle clipped to his shirt, the earbuds in, bobbing his head to a low-quality version of “Hey Ya.”
He sat in the driver’s seat, pressed play, and cranked the volume.
Sheldon had winced. “That sounds like the song is being played inside a soda can.”
