Page 48 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

It took about a half hour for Walt to begin tapping his fingers against the sides of the book. An hour for him to start singing along quietly, like he’d forgotten Hollis was even there.

Hollis didn’t sing. Hearing his own voice wielded with skill was . . .

There wasn’t a name for this emotion. He didn’t have words for the way the notes buzzed in his throat, slipped like honey through his teeth. The way his ears rang with it, pleasure unformed and indistinct.

Sitting in the dark of himself, both a witness and a hostage, violently aware that his heart picking up speed had nothing to do with how Walt was feeling.

And Walt himself wasn’t sad anymore, he was comfortable. The way they’d felt in that warm hollow, without that layer of despair over it.

Warm and pleased, and Hollis shook with it.

He watched and listened and shook.

Playlist

“Ventura Highway”—America

“Old Man”—Neil Young

“Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)”—Looking Glass

“Summer Breeze”—Seals & Crofts

“Kid Charlemagne”—Steely Dan

“Doctor My Eyes”—Jackson Browne

“Long Train Runnin’”—The Doobie Brothers

“25 or 6 to 4”—Chicago

“Use Me”—Bill Withers

“Take It Easy”—The Eagles

“Sara Smile”—Daryl Hall & John Oates

“Your Song”—Elton John

“Year of the Cat”—Al Stewart

“Wild Night”—Van Morrison

“Free Ride”—The Edgar Winter Group

“Let It Ride”—Bachman–Turner Overdrive

“Peg”—Steely Dan

Three

As the weeks passed, more people kept talking to him, and Walt was nice to them. He wasn’t charming like he’d bragged about in the earlier days.

He was just nice in a way Hollis wasn’t.

Walt shared their homework with a shrug. He answered when people asked him for the time. He held doors open for people, said excuse me when he passed them.

There was always this look of shock and defense on people’s faces, but it was starting to melt away. People were starting to expect this of him, and it had been only two and a half weeks.