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control of himself. Then he stands and picks up Cody, who wraps his spidery arms around his big brother’s neck. Brewster carries his brother inside without even looking at me once.
    I stand there for a while, more than ready to leave yet feeling like there’s something left undone. Finally I pick up my lacrosse stick and try to wipe off the mud—at least I hope it’s mud. I turn to go, deciding that this was all just one big mistake, when I hear the screen door creak open behind me. I turn to see the Bruiser coming outside again.
    â€œMind telling me what you’re doing here?” he asks.
    I’m beyond making up excuses now, beyond caring what comes out of my mouth. And when you don’t care what you say, the truth comes with amazing ease. “I was spying on you to find out what’s wrong with you and your family.”
    I expect him to spew something nasty at me, but instead he just sits on the porch steps and says, “Find out all that you wanted to know?”
    â€œEnough,” I answer him. “Were you just gonna let your uncle beat on your brother?”
    He looks me dead in the eyes. “What makes you so sure he would do it?”
    â€œYou don’t pull out your belt like that unless you plan to use it.”
    The Bruiser just shrugs. “How do you know? Do you think you know my uncle better than I do? Maybe he just likes to hear himself yell—did you ever think of that?”
    I can’t quite figure all of this out, but he’s put enough doubt in my mind now so that I can’t answer him, which I’m sure is what he wants. But then I remember something.
    â€œI saw your back,” I remind him. “I think I can put two and two together.”
    Now his gaze looks a little angry again. A little scared. “Two and two doesn’t always equal four.” There’s something about his tone of voice—something that says that maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not what I think. But there is also something in his voice that says it’s worse.
    â€œAnyway,” he says, “it was gutsy of you to stand up to Uncle Hoyt like that.”
    â€œYeah, well…”
    â€œYou wanna come in?” he asks. This I was not expecting.
    â€œWhy would I want to do that?”
    He shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe to see that we don’t live with rats. To see that I’m not building pipe bombs in my basement.”
    â€œI never said you were.”
    â€œBut I bet you thought it.”
    I look away from him at that. The truth is, from the moment I found out he was dating Brontë, I thought every possible bad thing my imagination could muster up about him. Pipe bombs in the basement were on the milder end of the spectrum.
    â€œC’mon,” he said, “I’ll get you something to drink.”
    Maybe it did take guts to stand up to his crazy, belt-wielding uncle, but I think it took more guts for the Bruiser to invite me inside.

11) DÉTENTE
    I follow the Bruiser in. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed at what I find. It’s just a house. Sure, it’s kind of run-down and sparsely decorated, but it’s still just a house. The one thing about it, though, is that all the colors are off, just like on the outside. The wallpaper is faded, the sofa has stains on the cushions, the blue carpet is mottled purple and brown in spots. A bruise , I think, the entire house is like one big bruise.
    I can hear a TV playing somewhere deeper in the house. Beyond the kitchen is an arched doorway, dark except for the flickering light of the TV. There must be a family room back there, but somehow I suspect family has little to do with it. I’m sure it’s Uncle Hoyt’s lair, complete with a deteriorating recliner, a TV with color issues, and empty beer cans multiplying like dust bunnies.
    The Bruiser pours me some lemonade. “I promise it’s not poisoned,” he says.
    I don’t want to touch