Page 51 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

Yeah yeah yeah, I was a good student too before all this. It’s an original quality.

“—th to Hollis. Earth to Hollis,” Annie was shouting. “See, this is what I’m talking about.”

Walt shook Hollis’s head. “Annie, I’m not on drugs, I’m just trying harder. I don’t understand why you’d think that’s a bad thing.”

Annie narrowed her eyes at him, then crossed her arms tight over her honeycomb-yellow sweater.

“I’m going to practice, but when I see you next, we’re having words.” She flounced away.

Hollis watched her go; he missed her. Walt only let them hang out with her when he had to.

What kind of practice? Walt asked with a frown.

Band, she plays snare drum.

Walt brightened a bit. They got violins in there?

Kind of? They’re not the expensive kind; they’re plastic. Most people buy their own after a year. Why? Do you play?

When I can. Fiddle, some songs for temple, Walt explained. He pushed through the school doors and started walking them home.

You’re Jewish? I thought you were Catholic or something.

I’m half. The rest is Irish Catholic on my mom’s side. So I didn’t worship, just played and went home. It paid a little here and there. Always a good thing to be on the good side of a house of God.

Do you even believe in God?

Walt looked up at the sky. It was gray, getting ready to snow again.

I don’t know. Would you? If you were me?

That was . . . depressing. Hollis tried something, pushed a softer feeling Walt’s way. Concern.

Walt stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk and said a quiet Oh and pressed a hand against Hollis’s chest. Where that feeling ended and began.

I . . . Walt blinked their eyes hard and fast. Thank you, Hollis, I’ll be all right. We ought to focus on this party you have coming. We should focus on that.

Corinthian

Hollis felt . . .

Never mind, it didn’t matter.

Walt made his family eat chipped beef on toast, something so archaic his ma stared at it for a minute, then stared at Hollis too, before mumbling something about eating this once when she was a little girl.

Hollis’s ma was from Georgia, and he hadn’t met his grandma. Walt quickly lied about finding the recipe in that old dusty cookbook from the corner of the kitchen counter. But Mrs. Brown’s eyes were a little wet. She ate and went straight up to her room instead of watching TV.

Walt took them to bed early after a quiet shower, quick as usual in the dark.

Hollis lay awake for long hours until Walt fell asleep, then waited longer than that.

Walt had placed his phone on the desk, closer than ever before. Hollis flipped his hand over and scraped it across the sheets. Slow and careful. Even though Walt’s eyes were closed, Hollis could feel the cool wood and the edge of the bed in his ocean of darkness.

By the time he was able to get there, it was long past midnight.

Hollis took a moment to catch his breath and rest, then he stretched his fingers out until they touched the edge of the desk.

Their heart picked up speed.