Swing State by Michael T. Fournier Read Free Book Online

studying.
    Pictures. Helped him remember. Under the hood. With Peck. Gotta be cold, Peck said overseas. Make sure. Sounds easy. It isn’t. Guys hurt themselves. Everything Peck said was like that. Stuff he didn’t know that he should’ve. Common sense. Maybe because he had none. He thought back. School. What an asshole. Making excuses. Trying to get off. That got beat out of him. Basic. He learned fast. Talking himself out of it. Not to make excuses, sir, but I thought this was clean enough. Then McSorley that friggin’ prick put him on toilets for a week. Maybe having your face in shit will make you realize there’s no such thing as clean enough, private. There’s clean and not clean and you’ll learn which is which by putting your face in both. After that McSorleygave it to him for weeks. Called him a slacker. But he didn’t ever fuck up again. At least not in basic. The guys said you can’t talk to him like that. I know, I know. A week of your corn and peas. Trust me. They laughed.
    After the library he walked. Every day around the common. Exercise. To get his leg back to where it was. And to get out of the apartment. Okay most of the day. When the wind blew he could feel it. Stuffed up the cracks with towels. Plastic over windows. Didn’t matter. Wasn’t cold like on his skin. Inside him, his bones. Never got warm. Not even winter yet. The library was always hot. One reason he went.
    The same people on the common. Not the same time every day. Checked the church clock. Lots of dog people. Guy with husky. Tillie Tompkins. Her yappy dog. Went to the same church Auntie Blake did. Hello, he said. Being polite. Making an effort. She looked at him the first time and said oh my. Her face. Made him remember going to Boston for field trips. Zoos. Animals knew they were being watched. Couldn’t change it. Tried not to care. Same as on patrol. Villagers watching. Saying hello. Saw it in her eyes. He still tried. Her and the dog both. She didn’t mean anything by it. But still.
    Across the common he saw that girl. From the quarry. High school. Always wearing black. What was her name? He hadn’t been there. Artie’s friend Gil said he knew someone who was. Like a melon hitting pavement, he said. They pulled her out. Didn’t know why he cared so much. She jumped. Maybe that was all. So did he. Like someone else was pulling the strings. Maybe she felt the same before her head hit.
    Remembered that same summer. They went back to the quarry. After he jumped. Artie and Christa. Some of her friends. Dudes.He thought that was weird. Artie didn’t mind. Couldn’t remember their names. Knew faces.
    Two twelvers. Roy carried one again so they could hold hands. The other guys were like you’re the man, dude. We heard you did Tits your first night. Yeah, he said. That shit is hard. Gonna do it again? He sat there by the fire. I don’t know, maybe. Drank. Listened to stories. Waited. Like it was gonna happen again. It didn’t. Drank four. Knew he was ripping someone off. Three each. Didn’t care. Those guys talking about it. How tough he was. He wanted to.
    Didn’t even stand up. Wouldn’t walk to the ledge. Nothing.
    They called Roy a pussy. Artie was like all right, lay off. No one else would do it. I’m not your bitch, he said. You fucking do it. No one would. They shut up. But he still felt it. They passed him in the halls. Had looks.
    When he signed up he thought about that. Coming back would take away the looks. But it didn’t. The college ones shook their heads. Asked if he was going to fight for oil. He got mad. Some skinny kid in glasses and a sweater. Punched him. First fight in a long time. Didn’t matter. Artie’s friends still looked at him. Because of the quarry. He wouldn’t jump. Didn’t matter he was going.
    That girl, all in black, across the common. He wanted to talk to her. Say I walk, too. Be nice to talk to