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“He wasn’t lying,” said the woman who sat next to Clyde. “I couldn’t even be in the same room with his socks.”
The other people at the party laughed.
The woman continued. “I’m not joking. It was so bad—”
“You’ve made your point,” said Clyde, covering her mouth with his hand. He looked back at Stanley. “Will you do me a favor, Stanley?”
Stanley raised and lowered his left shoulder.
“I’m going to get more caviar,” said Clyde. “Keep your hand over my wife’s mouth.” He patted Stanley on the shoulder as he rose from the couch.
Stanley looked uncertainly at his hand, then at Clyde Livingston’s wife.
She winked at him.
He felt himself blush, and turned away toward Hector, who was sitting on the floor in front of an overstuffed chair.
A woman sitting in the chair behind Hector was absent-mindedly fluffing his hair with her fingers. She wasn’t very old, but her skin had a weathered look to it, almost like leather. Her eyes seemed weary, as if she’d seen too many things in her life that she didn’t want to see. And when she smiled, her mouth seemed too big for her face.
Very softly, she half sang, half hummed a song that her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a little girl.
If only, if only, the moon speaks no reply;
Reflecting the sun and all that’s gone by.
Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly.
Fly high, my baby bird,
My angel, my only
SMALL STEPS
THE REMARKABLE FOLLOW-UP TO
HOLES …
Two years after being released from Camp Green Lake, Armpit is home in Austin, Texas, trying to turn his life around. But it’s hard when you have a record and everyone expects the worst from you. The only person who believes in Armpit is Ginny, his ten-year-old disabled neighbor. Together they’re learning to take small steps.
Armpit seems to be on the right path until X-Ray, a buddy from Camp Green Lake, comes up with a get-rich-quick scheme. X-Ray’s moneymaking plan leads Armpit to a chance encounter with teen pop sensation Kaira DeLeon, and suddenly Armpit’s life spins out of control. Only one thing is certain: he’ll never be the same again.
AVAILABLE EVERYWHERE JANUARY 2006
HERE’S A PREVIEW …
Excerpt copyright © 2006 by Louis Sachar
A rusted Honda Civic drove noisily down the street and parked across from the mayor’s house. Armpit had finished digging his trench and was attaching PVC pipe. The mayor had gone back inside.
The driver-side door had been bashed in, and it would have cost more to fix than the car was worth. The driver had to work his way over the stick shift and then exit on the passenger side.
The personalized license plate read: X RAY.
“Armpit!” X-Ray shouted as he crossed the street. “Armpit!”
The guys at work didn’t know him by that name, but if he didn’t say something X-Ray would just keep on shouting. Better to answer and shut him up.
“Hey,” he called back.
