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He laughs, but I can tell he doesn’t think what I said was funny.
“We don’t have hairdressers in our town. It’s a really small town.”
He puts his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.
“Well, Fredericksburg is kinda close to here. Tante and I drove there this morning to get some stuff she needed, and it didn’t take us that long.”
“We don’t go to Fredericksburg,” he says quietly but I can tell he’s annoyed and my stomach drops a little.
“Oh, okay.” I look down at my lap and try to think of something to say that might make him smile.
“It must be nice living in a small town,” I say and watch him hopefully. “Sometimes, I wish I had been born in one instead of Las Vegas where it’s so crowded and loud.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and I wish I’d just kept my big mouth shut.
“Sunshine, the only reason I’m out here right now is ‘cause my stepdad is at a meeting. I’m supposed to be in my room praying.”
“Huh? Why would you be praying now?” I ask confused.
“Because that’s the only thing I’m still allowed to do on my own. I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“Why can’t you be here?” I’m confused by what he’s saying.
“Our town, Cain’s Weeping … my stepdad is the head of it. There’s a lot of rules. The main one being that no one is allowed to leave. Except for him and some of his men. And sometimes my mama. But that’s it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he replies. He shrugs and presses his lips together like he’s thinking hard.
“I wasn’t born there. We moved there when I was four and Mama married him.”
“Where’d you live before?”
“A city called Austin. It’s where Mama’s from … I don’t have a ton of memories. But, I remember my house. It was bright, and we had a yard. My bed was blue … but, that’s all I remember.”
He points at the book in my hands. “That book? It’s my only book. Mama brought it with her when we came here. She had a bunch, but he threw them all out after we got here. This one was the only one she was able to hide. She only gave it to me when I was ten. Before that, I didn’t read anything but the Bible.”
I want to cry. Not just because he looks so sad, but because I can’t imagine life without my books.
“We used to read it together at night after he went to sleep,” he says quietly, still looking at the book.
“Now, Mama thinks Ellie—that’s my sister’s name—died as punishment for her giving it to me. She won’t read with me. She barely even talks to me.” He’s still staring at the book, and from his voice, I can’t tell if he’s sad or mad or both.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t be happy living out here. I wish I was just visiting. I wish I could go visit somewhere else,” he says and finally looks at me.
His eyes are sad, and he’s breathing hard. I reach out and grab one of his hands and put it between mine. I rub the top of it slowly, the way Papa used to rub my back when I was scared or sad. No one does that for me anymore, but it feels nice to do it for someone else.
“When you grow up, you can do whatever you want. That’s what I’m waiting on,” I tell him.
“I don’t even think about growing up, Apollo. Sometimes, I feel like I’ll be stuck like this forever.” My heart squeezes.
He looks away and his fingers fiddle with a thread that’s hanging loose on the edge of the hammock.
“Ellie was only four, but I’d been planning on teaching her how to read … and then, she died. I never got the chance.”
A new pain blooms in my chest because I know exactly how he feels.
“You know what I do when I miss my sister?” I ask him.
