"You’re being silly," Tommy said, with a laugh. "None of that matters. Color doesn’ t matter in Jesus." "I suspect we’ll have a talk about this later on," Balliol told him before Mason could say anything, and Tommy parked his truck on the far side of the parking lot. Mason came out on Tommy’s side and rounded to join Balliol who said, looking ahead to a group of waving teenagers. "You’re gonna owe me, Darrow." Mason looked at him and said, "I know." They walked on toward the large churc...
YESTERDAY HAD BEEN, DECIDEDLY, A bad day. The truth was that Lincoln Balliol was not a blamer. He was too stubborn and had too much of a will to power to blame other people for the problems in his life. When you began to blame people, you might as well just give up and say you have no control anymore. And, at sixteen, while Balliol knew he didn’t have ultimate control, he was still sure he had a great deal of it. That meant that to some extent things were his fault, to be fixed by him, even...
“If you were a real friend, you wouldn’t just sit there and laugh every time Addison said something mean.” Tommy wheeled away and was headed down the lawn, strapping his book bag on. At the edge of the lawn he looked back and shouted, unnecessarily, “Goodbye!” And then he was walking down Owens Street, past all the other ranch houses. Mark Powers didn’t go straight home. They were out of milk and so driving to the Quik Mart was absolutely essential. He parked in the little lot of the...
She microwaved the Swanson instant breakfast waffles, sausage and syrup along with the frozen eggs from the Quik Starts box; stopping in the bathroom to fill the the glass of powdered Tang to the brim, she reached the bedroom where her husband was waiting and told him, "And you said I'd never learn to cook."
They were sitting around filling the bedroom with grey cigarette smoke, and Addison finally said, “Mase, what the fuck are we watching?” “Duh,” Mason threw his hands up from his work and pointed to the cartoon people singing in Italian. “It’s Operavox. Animation meets opera. The best of Welsh television. I thought we agreed this would be an awesome idea.” “Actually, you agreed with yourself when we were at the library, and I just said all right check it out. This shit is weird.” “...
“THIS IS PERSEPHONE AND DEMETER,” Mason announced taping the lithograph over his nightstand. “I like it,” Tommy Dwyer decided. “I don’t get it. But I like it.” “They were the grain goddesses in ancient Greece, and they had this whole sort of cult and people would come to it and worship them.” Mason set out the incense. “Mason,” Tommy said. “Is this like an altar or something?” He cocked his head, squinting at the goddesses for an answer. “It’s more like a meditation space,” he deci...
Chris shrugged and then Sully said, “Well, do I get to ask you the same question. Not that I’m sure I want to know the answer.” Chris looked at Sully. “I see Sully Reardon,” he said. “And?” “And that’s it,” Chris said. “I don’t know about you. I just know you write and I know your name. And from what I know you’re one of the good guys. I mean it’s lot of assholes at SV’s. But I don’t know you yet.” And then Chris added, “And you don’t know me. Remember that, Sully.” Chris’s look was...
“You think Chris is odd?” “I refuse to discuss anyone else’s children... in front of their parents.” “But you think something is odd.” “Actually, Dr. Powers,” Sidney said. “The only one who said anything about odd was you.” Mark was attractive. But he was thin and his head was large and Irish. When he was solving a problem he stood with it pushed forward and his shoulders hunched, looking so serious that Sidney expected him to say, “We got a really big show tonight. A really big show....
Chris’s eyebrows flew up. “That’s rough.” Mason shrugged. Chris looked around the room. “Well, not J.D. He’s a good guy—” “Hate,” Mason repeated, “all of these people.” Addison Cromptley, slouched in his seat beside Seth McKenna, stirred when Jack Butterfield passed him the note. Seth looked to Addison and Addison, looking up to see that Mr. Breeder—what the hell kind of name was that—wasn’t looking at him. He uncrumpled it, looked up at the window. Mason’s head popped up. ...
But it wasn’t right to say things like that Joel reminded himself, crossed himself. Seth was just waking up and the first signs of daylight were in the sky. Every night Seth filled the coffee pot with water and coffee so that in the morning all Joel had to do was hit the red button and the coffee was on. His son, his cranky, crabby son who looked like a pothead with all his hair and his flannel and his depression, laid out his shoes and his clothes and even his underwear while Joel was sle...
One of the boys looked at him earnestly. He looked at Becky. Then he looked at one of his friends. They looked at each other and, just like that, the boy took out a gun aimed it at Addison and said: “Yeah, you can give me all your FUCKING money.” There was no insult. There was no smile, just a deadly earnest that told Addison he’d better bend down and open the drawer. “All right,” he said, trying to suck the bile and bring his voice above the heart that was beating double time, that was...
“Yeah,” said Sullivan. “Yeah.” “Unless you go blind,” Balliol murmured, and then said, “Up! Here comes the bus.” “Bye,” said Chris again. “Later,” Balliol said as the large bus sighed to a halt. “Bye,” said Sullivan, and climbed on the bus behind Balliol. Balliol was putting his fare in the machine, and the bus was lurching off down Page Street so violently that Sullivan crashed down in the seat beside his best friend. “Chris Powers knows my name.” “And you know his.” “But he’...
“You don’t,” Addison said. “But I’d still sort of like to know... I mean, we know how Tommy feels.” “Well, I sort of feel the same way,” Mason said. “All right, I do feel the same way.” Tommy smiled, heartened by this. “Besides, it just weirds me out, Add. You having sex. I’ve never known someone who’s not a virgin.” “Mase?” “Hum?” “I’m pretty sure your dad’s not a virgin.” WHEN RICK HOWARD CAME DOWN the stairs to the locker room clapping his hands hard three times, it meant...
“THE BEST THING ABOUT THIS YEAR,” Mason Darrow reported receiving a cigarette from the hands of his best friend, “is that I was the best looking person in our year,” Mason took a drag. “Except for you. Be a pal and open that window, Addison.” “Except for me, you don’t say,” Addison smirked, a Maverick smoking from between his lips while he turned the fan toward the window and pushed the window wide open. “The whole class has gone down hill,” Mason continued, putting his cigarette in th...