Martin and John by Dale Peck Read Free Book Online

Henry,” she said. “How would you like being scarred for life?” Her voice stopped when she noticed me still in the room. Without looking at me, my father sighed also, a wheeze like a punctured tire, and then he pushed past me and went to bed. Now, in the morning, Squire followed me so closely that he tripped on my heels. “Get lost, you mutt,” I yelled. He backed away a few steps, looked at me blankly. One of my father’s coffee cups sat on a fencepost, and I grabbed it and threw it at Squire. It missed and cracked loudly on the driveway gravel. I looked up at the house’s gray windows to see if anyone had heard, but the windows returned my stare as blankly as Squire did, and told me nothing.
    The old barn seemed to list in a breeze as I walked to it. We’d named it the old barn when my father started talking of building a new one, just before my older brother drowned. Inside, the heat was like July, not mid-September, and dust motes clogging the hundred-degree air were made iridescentby streams of light poking through holes where Justin had pulled a few planks from the roof. The stench of The Glue Factory’s shit hit me, and I started breathing through my mouth. I couldn’t remember the last time her stall had been raked clean. Squire trotted in behind me, sprayed a fencepost, started sniffing at the ladder leading to the loft. “What’s up, Lassie?” I said. My father hated it when I called Squire Lassie. The dog ignored me; he whined nervously, then stretched his paws up the ladder and barked. Though Squire barked at the loft every other day and I knew it was probably just a rat or a cat, I needed an excuse not to clean The Glue Factory’s stall. I pushed Squire out of the way and went up. A few bales of hay, a layer of loose straw, a pile of dented unmarked boxes: that’s all I saw when my head poked through the loft floor. Then I climbed another step and saw him. A boy. He stared at me where I perched on the ladder staring at him. His eyes were bleary, and a clump of straw stuck to the left side of his face. He looked about my age, sixteen or so. I was sixteen, I mean. He was or so.
    “Who are you?”
    Something happened then. Though I’d spoken, I realized as soon as my mouth opened that the same question must be on his mind, and for just a second I became him, saw out of his eyes, looked through a veil of straw at a boy with an eye encircled by a pale scar that sliced through his tan. But then, before I could evaluate what I saw, I was back inside myself, looking out. As I watched, the boy glanced around the loft. Iimagined he was looking for an escape route. Turning back to me, he swallowed. “Have you ever ridden in a limousine?” “What?” I said, startled, “I’ve never even seen one.” “Have you ever looked at the world from the top of a sixty-story building?” I didn’t understand his game, but I tried to play. “I’ve climbed the cottonwood in the front yard. Does that count?” I smiled hopefully. “Have you ever fucked?” I looked down, embarrassed. “No.” I heard another loud swallow. “I’m hungry.” “My mother will be cooking soon,” I told him. “Want to eat with us?” He just stared past me with unfocused eyes. I climbed into the loft. “Come on,” I said, looking at the straw all over him. “Let’s brush this off and get going.” His eyes met mine suddenly, and he put a hot finger on my scar. I jerked back. “The Glue Factory,” I said. “Our horse.” “Your horse?” “Kicked me,” I said, and added, “We’d better hurry.” I brushed at the straw on his face. “I’ll tell my mother you’re a friend from school.” The straw stuck to his skin so I grabbed some and pulled it free. One second there was nothing; the next, a thick red line of blood ran from his eyebrow to his chin, closing fast on the buttoned collar of his white shirt. Without a sound, he fell backward in the hay, and the sun coming through the holes Justin had left behind made