Page 4 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

“What flavor are you doing?”

Hollis opened the pantry and scanned their jars and packages.

“We have a lot of sweet potatoes this year. Do you mind if I use cinnamon?”

“Do two loaves. One for her and one for us, then you can use as much cinnamon as you need.”

Hollis could hear the grin in his mother’s voice.

“Who was it this time? Someone strong, looks like. You gotta stop pissing off football players. Their love for me can only go so far to protect you, june bug.”

Mrs. Brown was a PE teacher, and kids who played sports did tend to go a bit soft on Hollis because of it. Embarrassing as that was.

“It wasn’t—Ugh. It was James Miller.”

“Holly, leave that kid alone. Don’t you think he’s dealing with enough? His pa’s been using the computer lab like an internet café, so his job search can’t be going well. And Hannah can only pick up so many hours at the diner before she’s working a twenty-four-hour shift.”

Hollis pressed his forehead against the refrigerator.

“Okay.” He couldn’t apologize. He didn’t feel like he had the right to cry.

Instead, he reheated his dinner and settled down next to his ma to eat it. She brushed a hand through his hair and rubbed his back.

Brush

Hollis woke up painless, so he got ready and left.

The trains ran mostly on time, and he knew he wasn’t late. He’d have heard the whistle from his house on the way over. The wind blew hard, cutting through his down overcoat to chill his bones. Under his mittens he knew his hands were turning blue, but he stayed rooted to the spot.

Nothing else seemed to work.

Hollis’s uncle used to do this too, so maybe it was a family thing. A gambling-with-death thing. Waiting for the train like this.

The dry leaves whispered against each other; Hollis curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes.

Freight trains were faster than commuter trains when they needed to be. You can’t jump on them; they’ll break your legs. If you stumble, the wheels are like surgical knives. They could fill graveyards with the people who have tried.

Whistle and the light. Steel against steel, the warmth of sparks and gravity: relentless as the tide. Hollis leaned forward to taste that speed at the front of his teeth.

The gust tossed his thin brown hair into tangles as the cars rushed past, scented his clothes oily with smoke, and beckoned him forward lover-soft. Even as he stepped back, heart aching.

Annie asked him once why he didn’t just jump, when she was mad at him for doing something so dangerous.

He didn’t answer her.

Grow

The walk back took longer than he hoped. The cold made Hollis’s bones creak, and the air was heavy and wet in the morning dew.

Annie was waiting for him. Her wide face was pinched in disapproval. She always waited, no matter how long it took him to get back or if he got up early and didn’t go at all.

“Don’t even bother denying it, I can smell it on your clothes,” she snapped.

Hollis shrugged; he closed the gate behind Annie. “You’re not my ma; you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna get torn to pieces, you masochist.”

Hollis laughed. Annie pushed him hard from behind.