When the Saints Read Online Free PDF Page B

same as a big shiny box with your name on it. What about Christmas?”
    “Sometimes we had Christmas, if Daddy was around. But our presents weren’t wrapped and they didn’t come from any store.”
    “Where’d they come from, then?”
    “Other people’s houses.” I bring my foot back beneath the covers. “Why are you asking me all this?” I ask, and at the same moment he says, “You really gave a hand job to a grown man when you were only fourteen?”
    We look at each other.
    “Never mind,” West sighs. “Don’t answer that.”
    W EST DRIVES AN ORANGE PICKUP TRUCK WITH BLUE doors that probably came off another truck. When we get out and shut the doors, something metal falls off somewhere. Some men would stand around until nightfall searching for the thing, slamming stuff and getting you to “look here” and “hold that” until you have grease all over you, your picnic’s ruined and he finally says to just goddamn forget it. But West just circles the truck a few times, pokes his head underneath and shrugs it off.
    He follows me through the trees to a wide band of sand where the sun is actually shining for once and, as soon as he glimpses water, strips down and starts running. I sit on a rock and watch his bare ass vanish into the lake. He surfaces with ahowl, flicks his hair back and comes shivering back out with one hand over his crotch, shaking icy water on me as he plunks down on the sand.
    “Cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table, but beats swimming in the river with the townies,” he says. “How come you know this spot and I don’t?”
    “Ma and Daddy used to take us here in summertime. They’d get frisky right in front of us. We’d cook beer-can chicken over a bonfire and Daddy would throw us in the lake over our heads and make us swim back to shore. One time, my little brother Jackie had a leech stuck to him and wouldn’t let anyone pull it off. We chased him up and down the sand until Daddy yelled, ‘Look at the fucking mermaid!,’ ripped the leech off Jackie’s leg and took it over to the fire on a stick. We all cheered while it fried.”
    “Sounds like good family fun.”
    “Everyone was less of an asshole here. Even Daddy. At home, his moods could change on a dime. If he came through the door, one of us would put this plastic shark toy on top of the mailbox so the rest of us would know to stay gone. He used to sit us down and make us tell him all the bad things we did while he was away. If we said we hadn’t done anything, he hit twice as hard. One time, we saw a cop car coming and ran up to the house, but instead of warning Daddy, we told him Poppy fell down the cellar so he’d go check it out and have no escape when the cops busted in. Things were always better when he was gone. But we paid for that stunt when he got out. He whipped Poppy and me with her skipping rope, tied Bird and Jackie up in a blanket and dropped them out the second-floor window.”
    West takes my hand in his and squeezes it. I sit there with my hand trapped under his until I can’t take it anymore. I slide it out and pretend to slap a mosquito on my neck.
    “Come on.” I jump to my feet.
    We splash around knee-deep until the sun starts to sink and paint the lake in all my favourite colours. Our eyes follow all the gold threads sewing up the clouds and it’s only when West says, “I think I’ll drive home like this,” that I remember he’s still buck-naked.
    He takes the long way back, past hidden driveways and an abandoned church with a tree growing out of its roof. A hitchhiker appears out of nowhere and West slows to pull over.
    “You’re not wearing any clothes,” I remind him.
    “Shit!” He accelerates, sticks his head out the window and hollers, “Sorry, buddy!”
    B ACK IN THE FIRST GRADE, WE PLAYED A GAME CALLED musical chairs. It was stressful as hell. I was convinced if I was the one left without a seat at the end of the song, it’d mark me an outsider for life. My heart