Fallout (Crank 3)

his mean streak is very big.

Maybe when he gets out of

jail we can figure out how to

grow closer. That would mean

coming back from … wherever

Kyle and I end up. It would also

mean forgiveness on both sides.

Forgiveness isn’t my best thing.

Easier staying pissed. But I’m

tired of being pissed all the time.

Tired of feeling hurt by stuff that

can never be fixed because it is

an indelible part of the past.

KYLE STAYS IN THE TRUCK

While I circle around back, where

I know a certain window has a broken

lock. I left my house key in Fresno

with the rest of my meager possessions.

I shimmy up the dilapidated vinyl siding,

squeeze through the smallish opening,

drop into my old bedroom. An odd pang

of homesickness presses, weight

enough to make my eyes water. Why

am I so sad? I hate this place. Hate

what it represents—the threadbare

remnants of my childhood, few enough

happy memories woven into that cloth.

A strange foreboding chills me, and

I creep into the hallway. “Is someone

here?” I call, though I know the place