Page 156 of String Boys

“Why did you say them, then?”

“Seth, do you remember what happened the night Castor Durant died?”

Seth shook his head. “Some of it.”

Matty nodded. “I didn’t think so. I need to tell you a story, Seth. One I won’t be taking to my grave—I promise.”

Seth swallowed, his mouth suddenly really dry.

“Nurse Cathy?” Matty asked, his voice not getting any smoother. “Is there any way you could get my friend here some water? And me too, if you don’t mind. Take about fifteen minutes, I think.” His lips thinned, which was what passed for a smile on his ravaged features. “And, you know, maybe don’t let him kill me when I’m done here.”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Seth said automatically.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Matty told him. “I’ve always known.” He nodded at the nurse again, and she left uncertainly.

And then he told Seth a story about two boys walking outside one night, under a low-hanging moon, rotten as spoiled fruit, both of them searching for vengeance.

And how one almost died and the other escaped.

To die every day thereafter.

Giving Thanks

WHEN KELLYgot home that afternoon, Seth was sitting on the couch, just staring into space, his hands dangling loosely between his knees.

“Baby… is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he said blankly. Then, “No.” Then, “Can we get out of here? Is X-man asleep yet, or can we take him on a walk?”

Xavier was starting to fret in that way that meant he wanted his prenap bottle, and Kelly dropped the mass of Walmart bags on the floor. “Here—take these downstairs and change, and I’ll get him a snack and pull the stroller from the back of the car. Meet you in ten, yeah?”

Seth looked at him with such gratitude, Kelly wanted to preen. “That’s the best idea.”

But Kelly had to ask. “Seth, are you sure? You’re… you know. I mean it’s been eight and a half years, but the case is still hot. Someone’s gonna remember. Sometime.”

Seth nodded. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t ever worry about it again. I’m free.”

With that, he left, taking his clothes downstairs, and Kelly couldn’t get him to say anything more on the subject.

They walked, such a simple little walk now, as adults.

They didn’t walk up to the bus stop, to the laundromat that had been the source of their nightmares, or the minimart that had been razed. The vacant field where Castor Durant had died was now another apartment complex, with a playground in the center.

It looked better that way.

Instead, they walked down to their old grammar school, where not even Agnes went anymore. Chloe’s was a couple of miles away because it had her special education program, but this was the school that had all five of the Cruz kids listed on a plaque in the front office. This was the school where Seth and Matty and Kelly had stood up and played the violin and Seth had found his thing, his one true thing, the thing that would set him free and let him fly.

As Kelly looked around, he realized that some things had changed. They’d leveled the kickball field to put in portable buildings, and refurbished the soccer field so it could be used by recreational clubs. They’d repaved the blacktop with the basketball hoops and taken out the tetherball poles. The play structure had changed to something modern and less dangerous than the metal nightmare that Matty had always excelled so much at, and the front office had a new layer of paint.

Mrs. Joyce had retired the year Agnes left. Someone else ruled Three Oaks Elementary School now, and as they walked under the yellow sunlight of November trees, Kelly felt time passing in all his bones.

And it hit him.

They weren’t that old.

“Seth?” he said, after Xavier’s silence let him know that it really was just him and his lover, alone in the late autumn afternoon.

“Yeah?”