Lawnboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

avoided William. I stopped picking up the phone and answering the door. I even shirked my gardening duties. I didn’t even pass William’s house, and imagined his lawn grown mangy and foul without me. On my way somewhere, I’d take the long route, around the park, through the college gates, just so I wouldn’t bump into him. I lived in great fear of bumping into him, at the drugstore, at the motor vehicle registry, of seeing the worn-out expression on his face: Why have you done this?
    I helped with the garbage, manicured the hedges. I even scrubbed the mold from the side of the house, something that should have been done years ago. I made it quite clear, without saying it, that I no longer had anything to do with William, or with people, for that matter. My parents started treating me with kindness. They actually talked with me, asked my opinions, discussed current events. They’d finally gotten a good son, whoever that was, and he was gradually becoming an exemplary young man. I had only one more year of school, then I’d get out, hungry and loosed upon the world. I watched my soul shrink then shimmer to a tiny point.
    I began studying all night long. I began achieving perfect grades, throwing off the curve for the entire class. My teachers were amazed by me. Princeton, Stanford, Swarthmore, Michigan—all of them wanted me by the end of the year. I kept on going. I was giving myself up to the powers. I swam, I ran, I beat off constantly, sometimes so much that it stung to pee. I was burning, a saint, purifying myself in these blaring fires. A dream would often come to me, and I’d force the dream, force myself to watch it, though it made me sick. I’d be standing over my young self, the sweet, boyish, optimistic self, punching his face until his mouth fell open.
    We were eating dinner one Saturday night. My mother stepped out, then back in the kitchen, holding a cake rimmed with candles. My father handed a wrapped present to me. Then I realized it must be my birthday. I’d completely forgotten all about my birthday.
    “We’re so proud of you, Evan,” my mother said blankly. “You’re doing everything right.”
    My father added: “I’m so glad you’ve changed.”
    I nodded, smiled. I unwrapped my present and stared at the watch in the box. It meant nothing to me. I should have broken it right in front of their needy eyes.
    “Thank you,” I said, and kissed them. Their foreheads were dry. I might have been kissing the brows of the dead.
    Months passed. Jane and I were walking along the bay front. A new high-rise was being thrown up in record time, and we watched the construction workers in their orange hard hats stepping across the open girders. I’d just been offered a full scholarship to Princeton and I suppose we were celebrating that fact. I hadn’t even talked to Jane in seven, eight weeks. Somehow I’d learned to live without her in my life.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” she said out of nowhere.
    “Well, that’s a non sequitur.”
    “I’m serious. Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Of course I’m okay. I’ve never been better in my life.”
    A green-eyed man with black hair jogged by us. He looked me up and down, grinned, then trotted ahead.
    “Did you see that?” Jane said warmly. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”
    “Faggot,” I muttered, and walked ahead of her.
    “Hey!” Something wet bounced and spread across my back. “That doesn’t sound like you. He was exactly your type. What’s with you?”
    She annoyed me terribly. First her judgment, then her rancor. I watched the people walking by us. I watched their simpering, self-satisfied faces and threw a mental message to each one: Fuck you.
    “You’re changing,” she said quietly.
    She sat down on a slatted bench. “You used to be so much fun. You used to have such an amazing sense of humor.”
    “I was never funny.”
    “Yes you were. And we always talked when things got bad. We buoyed each other.” She