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Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

Page 11

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He nodded. “I think it’s almost time to come home.”

“Can we—” I stopped myself because I was just a kid.

“What, Ox?” He looked curious.

“Can we be friends when you come home? I don’t have many of those.” I didn’t have any except for Gordo and my mom, but I didn’t want to scare him away.

His hand tightened into a fist at his side. “Not many?” he asked.

“I speak too slow,” I said, looking down at my hands. “Or I don’t speak at all. People don’t like that.” Or me, but I had already said too much.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way you speak.”

“Maybe.” If enough people said it, it had to be partially true.

“Ox, I’m going to tell you a secret. Okay?”

“Sure.” I was excited because friends shared secrets so maybe that meant we were friends.

“It’s always the ones who are the quietest who often have the greatest things to say. And yes, I think we’ll be friends.”

He left then.

I didn’t see my friend again for seventeen months.

THAT NIGHT as I lay in bed waiting for sleep, I heard a howl from deep in the woods. It rose like a song until I was sure it was all I could ever want to sing. It went on and on and all I could think of was home, home, home. Eventually, it fell away and so did I.

I told myself later it was just a dream.

“HERE,” GORDO said on my fifteenth birthday. He shoved a badly wrapped package into my hands. It had snowmen on it. Other guys from the shop were there. Rico. Tanner. Chris. All young and wide-eyed and alive. Friends of Gordo’s who’d grown up with him in Green Creek. They were all grinning at me, waiting. Like they knew some big secret that I didn’t.

“It’s May,” I said.

Gordo rolled his eyes. “Open the damn thing.” He leaned back in his ratty chair behind the shop and took a deep drag on his cigarette. His tattoos looked brighter than they normally were. I wondered if he’d gotten them touched up recently.

I tore through the paper. It was loud. I wanted to savor it because I didn’t get presents often, but I couldn’t wait. It only took seconds, but it felt like forever.

“This,” I said when I saw what it was. “This is….”

It was reverence. It was grace. It was beauty. I wondered if this meant I could finally breathe. Like I had found my place in this world I didn’t understand.

Embroidered. Red. White. Blue. Two letters, stitched perfectly.

Ox, the work shirt read.

Like I mattered. Like I meant something. Like I was important.

Men don’t cry. My daddy taught me that. Men don’t cry because they don’t have time to cry.

I must not have been a man yet because I cried. I bowed my head and cried.

Rico touched my shoulder.

Tanner rubbed a hand over my head.

Chris touched his work boot to mine.

They stood around me. Over me. Hiding me away should anyone stumble in and see the tears.



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