A new chapter: Corey. (Patreon)

I had the hammer tucked into my belt, in the back. Simon was at home. Our uncles were out somewhere. Maybe another school meeting. Maybe just taking a break from the stress. I was here. Doorstep number two. I reached out to ring the bell, but the door opened first.

Corey, still in his after-school sports clothes. Muddy elbows. Sock feet. He stood in the doorway looking at me, not surprised, not angry. He was expecting me. He must have already heard what happened to Derek.

"I thought it was going to be one of your dads," he said.

In the dark last night I heard my uncles talking. 

"Those boys are lucky they didn't go after Sunday," Frank said. "I guess that's how bullies work though, isn't it. You don't go after someone your own size." There was a long pause.

"Frank," Jonah said. "Those boys are going to wish to god they'd gone after Sunday instead of her little brother."

Corey led me to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. His hair was freshly combed, which seemed out of place with the muddy clothes. The kitchen was spotless. I pulled the hammer out and set it on the table in front of my chair. I sat down.

Corey didn't even look at the hammer. He set the orange juice in front of me, and then sat with his own glass. We drank in silence. 

"Can we talk, first?" he said, "before the hammer?"

I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear that he was just so angry, or confused, or used to be bullied himself. I didn't want to hear about peer pressure. But I also wasn't in any hurry to get this over with. Simon was at home, his arm in a cast that said, "Jonah," and "I LOVE YOU, FRANK," and "Grandma's little boy." So I took another drink of orange juice and nodded anyway. Let's hear the stories.

"Jeff doesn't love Football," he said. "I don't know if that was your plan for him. He's very good at it, but he hates it. It was a good plan for Derek. He's devastated. But a broken knee would be a blessing for Jeff. I don't know what he loves, though. He seems empty sometimes. But I thought you should know."

He filled his orange juice glass again.

"And I'm the one who broke the bones in Simon's arm. I felt them snap. I heard it. And everyone laughed. He didn't didn't even make a sound. And they laughed." My fist tightened around the handle of the hammer. Corey just looked at me. "You are something," he said. "I don't know what. But the two of you are something."

He put his hand flat down on the table. Then the other one. "I don't like sports either. I don't like track. Or basketball. I take piano lessons, in private. I want to be in a band. Play the keyboard. My fingers and hands are what you want."

And so I broke his fingers and hands. And fingernails. Neither one of us made a sound. Just the hammer and bones. Corey. He was not what I thought he would be. But he would not hurt Simon again.

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