The Last Exit to Normal Read Online Free PDF

house when his mother died, and hadn’t stepped a foot outside the state of
Montana his entire life. He waved and said hello in a distant, dutiful way to Edward every time he saw him, but he
ignored my dad and me like we didn’t exist. Edward told me it was because we were outsiders. I avoided Mr.
Hinks because I didn’t want him to boil the brains out of my skull and tack me up on the garage wall.
    Billy was another story, though. I’d watched Mr. Hinks drape a towel around Billy’s
neck in the backyard and shave his blond bristles down to the nubbins. When Billy flinched at getting his ear nipped with
the clippers, Mr. Hinks cuffed him on the side of the head and told him to sit still. Billy sat still from then on.
    After having the get-to-know-you meeting with the sheriff, I got home and Billy was raking grass
clippings. At four o’clock, it was still over a hundred degrees. He wore Levi’s and a long-sleeved shirt,
and it struck me that cowboys and loggers and all country-type men in general didn’t wear shorts. It could be
two hundred degrees out, and unless you were actively swimming, you wore pants.
    Billy stopped raking when I skated up to the house. Edward and Dad, as usual for two as-yet-unemployed
guys, were sitting on the front porch, drinking lemonade and watching the world go by like they’d been born to
this kind of living. Edward wore a straw hat, and my dad wore jeans. They were like a cross between
Mister
Rogers’ Neighborhood
and some cheesy country music video.
    Billy’s stare bugged me out. The kid had alien eyes, and that big head bobbing on his pencil neck
weirded me out even more, and that’s why I couldn’t stop watching him. I kicked the board up, grabbed
it, and looked at him: “Hi.”
    “I ain’t supposed to talk to you.”
    I shrugged. “ ‘Ain’t’ isn’t a word.” I kept walking.
    After a moment, he called to me. “I had a skateboard once, you know. Got it at a garage sale for
two bucks.”
    I turned around. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me.”
    He looked at the handle of the rake, studying the grain of the wood like there was a secret message in it.
“Just sayin’.”
    “Still got it?”
    He shook his head. “Broke.”
    “What, a truck or something?”
    He looked at me, his brow furrowed.
    “That’s one of the wheel parts. Underneath.”
    “No. The wood part.”
    I knew how difficult it was to break a wooden deck. You had to slam something hard enough to break
bones most of the time. “You jump off the roof with it or something?”
    He shook his head. “No.”
    Just then the screen door opened and Mr. Hinks came out. He didn’t look at me; his eyes were on
Billy. “I told you I don’t want you talking to nobody over there, and I meant it. Now get yourself done
with your chores and come inside.” Then the door slammed shut.
    Billy looked at me, shrugged almost like he was saying sorry, and went back to raking. I looked at the
house, then at my dad, who gave me a blank look, then at Billy for a second more. He ignored me. “Bye,
Billy.” No answer. I walked up to the porch, set my board down, and grabbed the pitcher of lemonade, pouring
myself a glass. If there was anything I liked about country living, it was the lemonade and home-cooked dinners, and
Miss Mae always had plenty of both. “That was nice.”
    Dad looked at Billy. “He’s just doing as his father tells him, Ben.”
    “Did Hitler have kids?”
    Dad rolled his eyes. “Leave them alone, Ben.”
    Edward gave a wry smile. “When the voice of the Lord speaks . . .”
    I cocked an eye at him. “What?”
    Edward laughed. “Mr. Hinks isn’t really
Mr.
Hinks. He’s
Pastor
Hinks.”
    I looked over at their house. “That guy is a pastor?”
    “Yes. Pentecostal. But he hasn’t ministered for years. He’s a car auctioneer
now.”
    “Pentecostal?”
    Edward nodded. “The ones who speak in tongues and believe in demon possession.
Fire-and-brimstone