The Year of the Storm
“Dad wasn’t home, and Branch seemed relieved. Mama and I were in the den, messing with the radio, trying to pick up the Grand Ole Opry but not getting much of anything except static.
Branch stood in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck and wincing in that fake way he had. Mama cut the radio off and asked if he needed something.
“I’m afraid your boy has got hisself wrapped up in a mess.”
“A mess?”
“Fair to big one too.”
Mama had seen my face, the black eye, the cut on ...the back of my head. I told her me and some other boys were throwing rocks down by the lake and one hit me by accident. I told her I was fine. She didn’t believe me, but Mama never minded pretending.
Mama tried to act concerned. I didn’t buy it, but Branch might have. It was hard to read him, sometimes.
“Seems he and another boy disrupted football practice the other day.MoreLess
Branch stood in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck and wincing in that fake way he had. Mama cut the radio off and asked if he needed something.
“I’m afraid your boy has got hisself wrapped up in a mess.”
“A mess?”
“Fair to big one too.”
Mama had seen my face, the black eye, the cut on ...the back of my head. I told her me and some other boys were throwing rocks down by the lake and one hit me by accident. I told her I was fine. She didn’t believe me, but Mama never minded pretending.
Mama tried to act concerned. I didn’t buy it, but Branch might have. It was hard to read him, sometimes.
“Seems he and another boy disrupted football practice the other day.MoreLess
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