Dark River Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

other, just that they didn’t really have a lot to talk about. Chantry had no Atari games, didn’t listen to music that often, and spent a lot of his free time earning extra money by helping Dempsey Rivers keep the town park mowed, mulched, and landscaped.
    “Hey, fag.”
    Chantry looked up. His eyes narrowed when he saw Chris Quinton and two of his buddies grinning at him. He didn’t answer, just stared at them. There was no point in getting into any kind of insult trade with Chris. It wouldn’t matter what he said, and he didn’t want to get into a fight with him here on the church steps.
    Chris took a step closer. He wore a white shirt, blue sports coat, sharp creases pressed into his khaki Dockers, and smelled of some kind of aftershave. His blond hair was neat and feathered over his ears, not ragged like Chantry’s. Mama cut Chantry’s hair, but Chris Quinton got his styled . He’d heard him say that once and thought it was funny that a guy talked about getting his hair styled instead of cut. Maybe Chris always wore new clothes and whatever haircut was in style, but his two friends wore cheap imitations and their mullets were shaggy instead of well-cut.
    “Ain’t you got anything to say, Callahan? Looka here, dudes, he’s so gay he can’t even talk to us.”
    Mikey looked up, frowning a little, and Chantry kept a hand on his shoulder and his eyes on Chris. It was hard not saying anything back, hard not to pop Chris in the mouth and have the pleasure of seeing his lip split, but he kept still. His chest felt tight and his hand had curled into a knot despite knowing he couldn’t do anything. Not here.
    Chris was right up on him now, so close Chantry could see his own reflection in the light gray eyes looking at him with something like scorn.
    “I saw you talking to Cinda. Don’t be talking to my cousin, Callahan. You’re just Sugarditch trash. Hear me? Stay away from her, or—”
    “Or what?” Chantry couldn’t keep from asking, feeling the anger build up inside until it made his words come out all thick and raspy.
    Something flickered in Chris’s eyes. Satisfaction that he’d finally goaded him into talking, maybe. “Or maybe you won’t like what happens if you don’t,” he said.
    “Is there some kind of problem, gentlemen?” Chantry heard his mama ask, and Chris took a step back.
    “No, ma’am. Me and Chantry was just discussing some  . . . after school activities, Mrs. Lassiter.”
    “Really. I hope those activities include grammar lessons. School begins in six weeks, so I trust you’re enjoying your vacation, Chris.”
    “Yes, ma’am. We went to California to visit my mama’s family and I learned to surf.”
    Chris was always polite to adults, acting the part of the perfect student and teenager until they got out of earshot. Then he reverted to the kid Chantry was most familiar with encountering.
    Mama smiled at him, but there was something cool in her eyes and tone that let both Chris and Chantry know she wasn’t fooled. It always gave him fierce pleasure when she did that. Mama wasn’t stupid.
    “It’s always nice to be able to travel, and I’m certain your class would love to hear about your vacation,” Mama said. Chris didn’t attend public school in Cane Creek. He went to a private school that his grandfather had founded. An all-white school. That didn’t stop him from attending any school activities at Cane Creek he chose to, though, and no one ever said anything when he showed up for the school dances or festivals. Maybe because Cinda went to the public school. And his granddad basically owned it.
    Chris was being really polite. “Yes, ma’am. My teachers at the academy usually give us an assignment about our vacations the first week back at school.”
    “Do they? I’m very pleased to hear it, Chris.”
    “It’d be nice if you taught at the academy, Mrs. Lassiter. My father says you’re the best teacher in Cane Creek.”
    There was an old black and white TV