Page 42 of String Boys

Matty stared at him, his eyes wide and darting to the door behind Kelly, but Kelly didn’t care. He was done caring who heard him. He was going to lose Seth anyway. Seth and his father were downstairs talking about Bridgford—again—and this time,thistime, Seth was right here on planet Earth, because Kelly could hear him yelling too.

“You said you wouldn’t tell,” Matty hissed.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been an asshole,” Kelly shouted, and that did it. He heard the door crash open behind him just as Matty launched himself at him. Xavier caught Kelly before he wrapped his hands around his brother’s throat and beat his head against the floor.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Oh my God! Boys! What in thehell?”

“He started it!” Kelly struggled furiously against his father’s grip. “I was lying here, listening to music, not touching nothing, and he comes in and starts beating on me. Him and his good Christian values—he can keep them!”

Kelly twisted away then, and hurtled through the house toward the door. His little sisters were in the kitchen, begging piteously for some soda or something, but of course it was all gone because of the ungodly heat.

“Kelly, where are you going?” his mother called.

“To get some ice!” Kelly snapped, slamming the door behind him. He clattered down the stairs in a huff, fully intent on running to the gas station two blocks away to get some ice and some sodas for his little sisters. Yeah, sure it was by Castor Durant’s little crack house, but Castor and his buddies were usually off the streets by now, either in their homes or in the vacant stores, getting high.

He slowed, though, as he came to the bottom of the steps, and thought yearningly of Seth’s company.

They were both having a sucky night at home. Maybe some time together would make up for it.

He knocked on the door to Seth’s apartment tentatively, and then peered inside through the gap in the curtains, hoping for the best.

Not so much.

Seth was standing, arms crossed over his chest, near his practice corner, glaring at his father, who was standing by the kitchen table.

Shit. He stuck his head in anyway.

“Uh… Seth?”

They both startled, shaken out of their death-match stare, and Seth’s dad struggled to remember words.

“I’m sorry, Kelly. Can I help you?”

Kelly tried to wipe his own glare away. He liked Seth’s dad. He brought them dessert on Soccer Wednesdays, and always knocked on the door to his own house before he came in. Kelly wasn’t sure why he did that, but it sure did predispose him to love the guy.

“Uh, yeah. I was going to the Ampm to get some sodas. You guys want something? Ice cream? Anything? It’s hotter thanassout here!”

Seth’s dad’s mouth twisted on the sides. “That’s, uh, a very attractive offer, Kelly. Seth, did you want anything?”

Seth shook his head and sent a “Please help me” look at Kelly. “Can I go with him?” he asked hopefully.

“No.” Mr. Arnold sighed. “But Kelly, if you want to stop by afterward with some root beer and ice cream, we can watch movies or something. Seth and I need to finish our conversation.”

Oh, thank God for Seth’s dad.

“Thanks, Mr. Arnold. That sounds like the best. Like the greatest. I’ll bring—”

“Here.” Seth’s dad dug in his pocket and came back with a ten. “My treat. Just ten more minutes, okay?”

Kelly was just so grateful. Sure, Seth’s company would be nice, but God. To spend some time here with Seth, even on opposite ends of the couch, where it was cool, without his brother’s toxic presence—it sounded like heaven.

“I’ll be back in twenty,” he said happily, taking the ten and winking at Seth. “After I bring my sisters some soda and some ice.”

It would be a bitch to carry home, but hey, it would be worth it, right?

He closed the door behind him and went whistling into the humid darkness. For a moment, he contemplated cutting across the vacant field, but decided against it. There were no streetlights over that field, and even though the moon was big and yellow tonight, high overhead, there were lots of nasty things there—broken bottles, needles, pipes—and Kelly just wanted some goddamned ice. He ignored the shadows of weeds and abandoned shopping carts under the moon and strode quickly down the sidewalk, making it to the relative safety of the gas station with a sigh of relief.

He gathered his purchases, including the ice cream and the root beer and the ice, and then asked the bored sales clerk for a bag.