Page 74 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

He said it like it meant nothing, like it didn’t grip Hollis by the throat. Make it hard to swallow.

This whole place used to be Rose Town, you know. You live in the newer part of it. They tore down some buildings between. It doesn’t take long for grass to cover what’s been left behind.

It’s fucked-up that you never told me that. You know that, right? It’s fucked-up that I didn’t know that this whole time.

Walt closed their eyes.

You asked that first week, but I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t bring myself to . . . It was personal. We didn’t know each other then.

That’s really not an excuse, you fucking asshole.

Walt huffed, irritated.

Do you know how many of my rides knew my name?

Most of them?

Thirty. Only about fifteen got a good conversation out of me. Seven got to know what I liked and didn’t like. Three got to know I had a sister. I’ve been in about two hundred people, give or take, and you know how many of them stopped cooking with celery without me asking?

Five? They can tell you didn’t like it. I could tell you—

Just you, Hollis, Walt interrupted him, impatient.

Even Dina prioritized her needs and wants above mine, and it was fine of her to do that. Wouldn’t have asked her for more than she gave, and every second with her was sweet, but you gotta understand why you frighten me sometimes.

Oh.

This is more than I ever asked for. More than I hoped and more than I deserve. It doesn’t help that you’re a fella. I know myself and my proclivities, and times have changed, but even the angels couldn’t have seen that coming.

Hollis understood, by God he did, but he could still feel Walt twisting inside. He took their hand and held his own face, tenderly. Mitten to skin.

Walt.

What?

What do you look like?

Lick

He was shorter than average, five foot six to Hollis’s six foot one. He didn’t have blond hair like Sam’s; he was a brunet. Darker than Hollis’s, he said. Curlier than Hollis’s mom’s but not as curly as Yulia’s.

He was stronger than Hollis, and very sure he could pick him up.

He had dimples.

He didn’t get old enough to grow a beard or mustache, though he’d tried once apparently.

One of his fingers had been broken in an accident and was crooked. He had a scar across his eyebrow from a bottle thrown his way in a bar fight. Another across his knuckles from delinquent behavior, as he put it.

Walt traced the hills and valleys of Hollis’s face as he talked. Got stuck drawing a finger down the hump on Hollis’s nose over and over.

When I first saw you, I thought you were pretty.

I was disgusting, covered in tears and dirt.

All the same.

Did you pick me because you wanted to look like me?