Francis I’ll fix his wagon. Lots I went with—Phil, Syd, Randy, Will Falls, and his brother, Wes, too. And studied. At least that I learned—from Gramp. No matter what, study. Nobody can do that for you or take it from you, and it’s the thing you can do for your family. But the other thing’s shame, mine, I did it—but you can’t trust anybody. At least I won’t lie: you made me hate this town, Craig Puttock. I hate it. I shouldn’t have trusted you, you liar. But it’s not you taught me you couldn’t trust people. I know now if my people find out—they will too—I don’t care, I’m studying, I’ll get there, I’ll get out of this town, because they’ll find out, everybody’s a big mouth, they live to talk, go at it like birds after seeds—and if they find out, I can’t trust home either, they’ll boot me out the way they did Faye, but poor Faye couldn’t help it—fingers and curious and dumb, dumber than all of us. We knew that. What’s wrong with us? You can’t trust anybody. At least, I’ll have animals, you can trust them and they trust you, animals. I’ll be a vet if I’m not anything else. I’ll be the best vet in the world, I will. Lydia: I told Head something was on Brick’s mind, he’s concentrated like when he’s got a project at school, goes at it hammer and tongs, nothing stands in his way, nobody counts: like that. Brick, I say. I touch his hair, but he won’t respond, grits his teeth it looks, and then up from the table without If you please, Mom or Excuse me. Is that the way you leave the table? But he keeps going as if I don’t exist, he doesn’t hear me. A trance. Gramp: Jennie won’t lie I know, but when Head says Where’s Memory? she goes quiet, eats, reads, gets busy, but won’t look straight at him: ‘cause Memory’s up in Jennie’s room. Never was before. Something I don’t know. Something between them. Boys, maybe. It’s that time. Head’s been looking daggers. And Lydia’s close-mouthed. I want my kids home,
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