Page 125 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

He slapped Hollis on the shoulder. “Thanks for the chalk. Merry Christmas.”

Tim grinned and gave Hollis a one-armed hug. “See you round.”

Yulia and Annie held hands for the rest of the winter fair. Hollis and Walt politely pretended not to notice.

They went back to Mr. and Mrs. Brown’s booth and negotiated where their baskets would be dropped off. Hollis felt the side of his coat to make sure his ma’s hair stick and his pa’s cream hadn’t fallen out during the dance.

“Annie and I want to go back to mine. Do you want to come?” Yulia asked. She was flush and beaming. He could tell she wanted them to say no so badly.

“It’s all right,” Walt said, pulling Annie in for a quick hug. “We have our own plans.”

Yulia kissed him on the cheek.

Fiddler’s Green

Any other night it would have been too cold to go on a long walk. But they didn’t wear twice as much clothing every night.

Hollis and Walt took a ride back home from the abandoned houses with Hollis’s parents, so it cut the time in half, but it was still a bit of a hike.

He wished he’d thought to ask Yulia if her pa was finished with her car.

I thought you’d be more nervous.

Walt shrugged their shoulders.

I did too. It doesn’t seem as scary now that I’m not alone.

It was a bright night, not a cloud in the sky. The moon wasn’t full, but without buildings or dense foliage, there was nothing to block the light.

What kind of buildings were here?

I’m not sure. I don’t know where the demo started. But at the edge of town, there should be a grocery store. Maybe a church.

Hollis had never seen a church in Rose Town.

When the buildings pierced the horizon, Hollis crossed the road and trudged through the field. They were near the gravel lot, where everyone had parked their cars so many months ago.

They walked as close as they could manage before Walt’s hands started shaking.

Hollis sat them down on the cold ground.

Is it as bad as you thought?

It’s too dark; I’ve never seen it with the lights put out. No candles in the windows, no streetlamps, no fires. It’s a grave.

Walt rubbed their mittened hands together; heated the wool with their breath.

People were always in the streets, day and night. It was loud all the time. The sidewalks were loud, the bars were loud, the clanging and forge at the factory were loud. People were always yelling and crying and laughing. Trying to sell stuff in the street, having a good time with their friends. It was loud even when we tried to sleep.

My pa used to snore like a bear. Kept the whole house up for years until we started shoving sponge in our ears.

What were they like?

Walt brought their knees up high so he could rest their head on them.

My ma was big. We barely had enough to eat, but she was big and stout. She worked as a seamstress, and she was very quiet. Very kind. My pa should have been a violin maker like his pa. But that paid less than factory work, so he ruined his hands so we could keep the lights on.

One of my sisters was nine when we left, the other was nineteen. Unmarried, so she stayed with us. They were both mean the way Yulia’s mean. Viper-tongued and sweet, despite it.