Read The Last Exit to Normal for Free Online Page B

No food, no toilet
paper, no money for smokes, no nothing. Fine. I stood up, headed back to the shed, and found an old towel. If I
couldn’t go in, I’d go out. I walked over to the garden behind the shed, dug a hole with my heel right in
the middle of a bunch of potato seedlings, dropped trou, and planted my own version of nature’s bountiful
harvest, smiling as I grunted the last out. Never let it be said that Ben Campbell couldn’t get in the country
swing of things.
    I un-squatted after wiping with the towel, then kicked dirt over my gift to Miss Mae. I peeked around the
other side of the shed; an old Chevy pickup was sitting there. Miss Mae didn’t drive anymore, and I figured it
was her dead husband’s. I walked around it, kicking the tires and looking inside. It was in great shape—if
faded and worn a bit.
    The Hinkses’ house was on the other side of the yard, and a portion of the fence had come down
in a windstorm a month ago or something. That’s the one I had to rebuild. As I turned from the truck, I saw
Billy Hinks staring at me through the space, the wheelbarrow in front of him. He’d seen me squat. I rolled my
eyes, then walked over to him. “I’m locked out.”
    He smiled, looking to the garden-turned-outhouse. “I won’t tell.”
    “Where’s your dad?”
    “Helping some guy sell cars at the auction in Cedar Hollow.”
    I looked at the pile of bricks. Almost all of them were broken, and the pile was big. At least four hours of
work for a kid his size. “An auction, huh?”
    He wiped his brow. “Yep. He makes money doing it. Talks real fast. Practices in the
bathroom.”
    I nodded, thinking about what the kid had said earlier about talking to me. “Did you get
grounded or something because I talked to you yesterday?”
    He shook his head.
    “Then what?”
    “I gotta move these bricks.”
    I looked at the pile, then at the smaller pile ten feet away that he’d made. “You have to
move bricks because I talked to you?”
    He nodded. “Gotta get it done before he gets home, too.” He bent and picked up a broken
brick, throwing it in the wheelbarrow.
    I realized then that there was no reason for moving those bricks other than punishment. I also knew it
was my fault. I hopped the downed fence.
    “What’re you doing?”
    I picked up a brick. “Helping.”
    “You can’t. I’ll get in trouble if he finds out.”
    “Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t find out.”
    He shook his head, his big eyes scared. “You gotta go.”
    I put the brick in the wheelbarrow, thinking for a second. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.
I’ll help you do this, and when your dad gets home I’ll tell him that it was my fault you got in trouble
in the first place and that you didn’t want me to help, but I did anyway. It’ll all be my fault, so you
won’t get in trouble and you won’t have to do this whole thing yourself.”
    He looked at the pile of bricks, then wiped his forehead again. It was at least ninety degrees out already.
“You sure you ain’t lyin’? You’ll really say that to him?”
    “I promise.”
    He took a moment, thinking. “Okay.”
    So we worked. Billy Hinks didn’t talk when he worked, and I found out what a big pussy I was
after an hour nonstop. That I couldn’t compete with an eleven-year- old boy didn’t do much for my
self-esteem, and I thought about what my dad had said the night before. I decided I wouldn’t take a break until
Billy spoke, but the sun was relentless, my head pounded, my stomach crawled with hunger, and my hands were
blistered and bloody. So we continued, lugging a pile of broken bricks ten feet for absolutely no reason.
    Then my angel-disguised-as-Satan came out the back door with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.
She stood on the back porch until she could tell we saw her, put the pitcher and glasses on the little table, and went back
inside without a word. Billy eyed the lemonade. I worked my hands, wincing every time I