Brutal by Michael Harmon Read Free Book Online Page B

member on my hate list. I'd known girls like her. “I thought you had a girl.”
    He smiled sheepishly. “Anna Conrad is really pretty.”
    “Pig.” It came out automatic, and I regretted it the second I said it, remembering that one of the guys called him adesert pig. I also knew he didn't have a girl back home unless she had four legs and a cotton tail.
    His eyes darkened, then the look disappeared just as quickly. “I always say it's worth a shot. Man's gotta keep his options open.”
    Just then, my dad came out the door. He looked at Velveeta. “Hello, Andrew. How was the first day of school?”
    The goofy grin came back, like a dumb blonde who just might not be dumb. “Just fine, Mr. Holly. Back to the books is what they say, right?”
    Dad smiled. “That they do.” He looked at me. “Dinner's on, Poe.” He nodded good night to Velveeta and went inside.
    I stood, looking at Velveeta. Something about this guy made me want to be around him. Maybe it was because he said things other people didn't say. I studied him for a minute more. No, it wasn't what he said. It was what he didn't say, only giving tendrils and sound bites to who he really was.
More'n one way to fight, I suppose,
he'd said. Velveeta wasn't a dumb redneck, I realized, he was smart, and he was a mystery. “Are we walking tomorrow?”
    “Sure.”
    “See you then.”
    He waved like a dork, grinning from ear to ear. “Bye.”
    • • •
    We'd eaten in the formal dining room every night since I'd arrived, and as I walked to the kitchen to help dish, I looked toward the den. “Do we have to eat in the dining room every night?”
    Dad stopped. “No. Why?”
    “It's just so big. Like there should be more people or something. I'm used to eating in front of the TV.”
    He nodded. “Then the den it is.”
    “Where did you eat before I came?”
    “Usually in my study.”
    I heaped my plate with rice and steamed vegetables, then dished some onto Dad's plate. He took two chicken breasts from the oven and forked them next to our sides. I sniffed. “Smells good. We didn't eat real cooked food that much.”
    “Thanks. The white sauce is my specialty.” He opened a cupboard. “You get napkins and I'll get glasses. Water?”
    “Sure. Unless you've got beer.”
    He smiled. “Yes, I do, but not for you.”
    “Worth a try.”
    • • •
    I clicked on the TV and turned it to FOX News, and Dad came in a minute later. “You like the news?”
    I nodded, taking my glass and giving him a napkin. “Yeah. I got into the habit of watching it for a class I had last year. We had to report on what was going on in the world. I like FOX. Bill O'Reilly is funny.”
    He smiled, picking up his fork. “I'm afraid I don't watch the news.”
    “You don't know who Bill is?”
    “Afraid not.”
    “You must be a hermit. He's like the black sheep of the news. They all hate him.”
    “And that's why you like him, I take it.”
    “Yep. No fear, and he says what he believes, not what he believes other people think he should believe.”
    He took a drink, blinking. “I think I understand that. Are you a liberal or a conservative?”
    “Neither. They're all crooked, but I like knowing what they're crooked about.”
    He laughed, cutting his chicken. “I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree.”
    I looked crossways at him, baffled. “Mom?” My mother didn't have a political bone in her body.
    He shook his head. “Me. That's why I don't watch the news. I can't stand politicians.”
    That was the difference between him and me, I thought. When he didn't like something, he hid from it. I couldn't. Some intangible rage in me wouldn't allow it. “I met the mayor's son today. Theo.”
    He nodded. “That kid is a political statement if I've ever seen one.”
    I stared at him. “I thought you were supposed to be nice and all that. You know, the counselor thing. No real opinion.”
    He smiled. “Well, first of all, it wasn't a bad thing, and second of all, I do have