Page 9

Hollis peeled himself out of bed and wandered downstairs. He could smell spaghetti sauce from his room and now he was hungrier than he felt hurt.

His ma was on the couch burning through another episode of The King of Queens . Mrs. Brown was red-haired, broad-shouldered, and fine-boned like a bird. Pretty in a way that time couldn’t snatch, and Hollis looked too much like her.

She caught his eye as he passed through the living room to the kitchen and whistled low.

“You’re not staying home tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hollis mumbled. “I gotta bake Yulia some bread later; she handled my copay. You need the oven?”

“What flavor are you doing?”

Hollis opened the pantry and scanned their jars and packages.

“We have a lot of sweet potatoes this year. Do you mind if I use cinnamon?”

“Do two loaves. One for her and one for us, then you can use as much cinnamon as you need.”

Hollis could hear the grin in his mother’s voice.

“Who was it this time? Someone strong, looks like. You gotta stop pissing off football players. Their love for me can only go so far to protect you, june bug.”

Mrs. Brown was a PE teacher, and kids who played sports did tend to go a bit soft on Hollis because of it. Embarrassing as that was.

“It wasn’t—Ugh. It was James Miller.”

“Holly, leave that kid alone. Don’t you think he’s dealing with enough? His pa’s been using the computer lab like an internet café, so his job search can’t be going well. And Hannah can only pick up so many hours at the diner before she’s working a twenty-four-hour shift.”

Hollis pressed his forehead against the refrigerator.

“Okay.” He couldn’t apologize. He didn’t feel like he had the right to cry.

Instead, he reheated his dinner and settled down next to his ma to eat it. She brushed a hand through his hair and rubbed his back.