Halversham Read online

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like this nice friendly guy, and everybody wants to be friends with you, but the moment they try, you pull back. It’s like you don’t want to get close to anyone. You’re so…” Corrine looked up to find the word and said, “Aloof.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “That’s exactly true. You’d rather be superficially close to my mom or Mort than be genuinely close to me or any of your peers. It’s crazy.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? Who’s your best friend at school?”

  “Well, I talk to a couple of guys. And girls.”

  “Anyone you’re particularly close to? Like people you hang out with and talk emotional stuff with?”

  “Guys aren’t wired like that. We don’t talk emotional stuff.” It wasn’t entirely true. He did talk about emotional stuff with his mother for hours on end. But mentioning that would only strengthen Corrine’s grossly inaccurate point.

  “Right.”

  “Look, yes, I like talking to older folks, but it’s not superficial. And it doesn’t mean I don’t make friends with people our age, or that I’m less genuine with them.”

  “Fine. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “See?”

  “See what? It’s got nothing to do with anything. It’s a choice.”

  “And you choose to be close to no one. Not me, not your friends at school, I bet. It’s as if we’re not good enough for you.”

  “That’s absurd. I don’t select my friends, and I’m not aloof. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll have at least one buddy right here in Halversham by the time I have to leave.”

  “Deal. We’ll see how close you’re capable of getting to him. Or her.” She lifted an eyebrow teasingly and Andy rolled his eyes.

  They were in front of Mr. Doyne’s house now.

  “Do you want to come up and at least deliver this last one with me?” Andy asked, holding up the package meant for Mr. Doyne.

  “You know I can’t.”

  “No, I don’t. Why?”

  “I don’t talk to these people. I can’t maintain my crazy, angry front with you standing next to me.”

  “So you never talk to them even when you make a delivery?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “How do you get them to pay?”

  “I just stare at them like a raving mad creature and that usually gets the message across.”

  “That’s crazy,” Andy said, unable to believe Corrine’s determination. “Why would you want to be this person you’re not?”

  “Because I hate them. I hate the whole damn town and I won’t give them the satisfaction of me being civil.”

  “Fine. Stay uncivilized here. I’ll go up.”

  Corrine waited under an aspen while Andy climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door. A minute later, a big man with grey hair opened the door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Doyne. My name is Andy, and my Aunt Magda sent me to deliver these to you,” he said, handing the brown paper bag to the old man.

  “Oh thanks, kid. That’s very kind of you,” Mr. Doyne said, accepting the package. “Where’s Crazy Corrine?”

  Although he’d heard the name many times before, this time, Andy felt bad for her. “Oh, I’m just helping Aunt Magda out while I’m in town. Giving Corrine some time off,” he lied.

  “You should take over for good, kid. That silly vacant girl says not a word when she comes to deliver. She just stands there like a statue and waits. Matter of fact, she doesn’t say a word to anybody. And she comes late.” Andy bit his lip, torn between telling Mr. Doyne to go easy on Corrine and keeping the peace as an outsider. Mr. Doyne paused and looked at Andy with narrowed eyes. “You’re Patricia’s son, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened, kid. I heard. She was a fine lady.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Wait here while I get the money,” he said and lumbered back in, leaving the door wide open for Andy to peek in.

  The living room was modest, with rattan furniture and faded curtains on the windows. It seemed as if no one else lived there except for the old man, but he could be wrong. Once there was a Mrs. Doyne, and Andy vaguely remembered Aunt Magda saying she died a year ago, after some tragedy hit the family. The place had a lonely, melancholic aura and Andy wondered if it was a lot more cheerful when Mrs. Doyne was around. Just like the Monaghans’ home in the city was when his mother was alive.

  Mr. Doyne waddled back a few minutes later. “Here you go, kid. Thank your Aunt Magda for me, will you?”

  Andy nodded. “Sure.”

  “Poor woman’s tested too much,” Mr. Doyne muttered as he closed the door.

  Was the Curds’ family situation widely known in Halversham?

  Andy put the money in his pocket and turned around to head for the dirt road where Corrine stood waiting.

  “You sure took your time acquainting yourself with James,” she said when he approached her.

  “You sure have a reputation with the townsfolk.”

  “That old goat said something nasty about me?”

  “It’s not what he said. It’s what the whole town is saying about you. Surprisingly, it’s always the same thing: ‘She doesn’t talk, she looks vacant, she’s not a friendly person.’ Looks like I’m not the one being aloof.” Andy lifted his eyebrows and Corrine puckered her lips in a pout.

  They counted the money they had collected, and Andy put it in his pocket. He’d give it to Aunt Magda when they got home later that evening. It was close to noon, and the air was warm now that the clouds had cleared to give way to the sun.

  “Let’s have lunch. Your mom’s packed us some pies and cakes.”

  “I know just the spot. But first, do you have any money on you?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Of course you do, rich boy. We’re going to cook in the wild, but we need to buy some ingredients.”

  “Why cook when we have all this food from your mom?”

  “Because I don’t eat that shit,” she said, walking away.

  Andy was stunned into silence as he stared at her retreating back. What was wrong with her? Aunt Magda was one of the best cooks he had ever known. Probe further and he’d most likely be treading on sensitive territory. He’d have to be delicate or she’d clam up.

  “Where are we going?” Andy asked, trotting after her.

  “We’re going to stop by Dorrie’s and buy some supplies. And then we’re going to head to my secret lair,” she said.

  “You have a secret lair?”

  “Yup.” She paused to face him and added, “And Andy, it’s really a secret. So don’t go around telling people, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” She turned around and they continued walking.

  “You know, the other day I went to the foot of the hill to feed stray dogs like my mom used to. But they were all gone. Only one skinny little guy was there. Do you have any idea what happened to the rest?”

  Corrine smiled an evil smile and said, “Maybe my mother ate them.”

  Andy frowned while she laughed. “It’s not funny. And what is it between you and your mom?”

  “I don’t like her.”

  “Why?” Corrine shrugged. “Fine. But don’t talk about her like that to me, okay? I like her.”

  “Okay, okay. I was just kidding. I don’t know what happened to those dogs. Maybe somebody came along and carted them away. To give them a better life.”

  “Well, I hope so. Because my mother loved them. I know she’d want me to take care of them while I’m here.”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “I saw Milton’s property fenced up. When did that happen?”

  “A year ago, maybe two. I don’t know.”

  “Why did he do it? It’s been without a fence for years.” Corrine shrugged again and they continued in silence. A moment later, Andy asked, “
You remember Colin Navasky? The kid whose finger you hooked a fish hook through?”

  Corrine giggled. “Yeah, I remember him.”

  “His brother Chuck said Milton’s daughter is looking for someone to help him around the house. He asked if I wanted the job.”

  “Do you want to work for Milton?” Corrine stopped walking and faced Andy.

  “I wouldn’t mind.” Andy paused.

  “Duh!” Corrine hit her head with the base of her palm and continued walking. “Friend to the senior citizen, right?”

  Andy ignored the sarcasm. “Would that be bad? Working for him?”

  “I don’t know, Andy. You have a weird way of connecting with weird people. So maybe it’d work out just fine. All I can say is that he’s one sonofabitch.”

  “Yeah, your mom told me about that incident when you were a kid.”

  “Boy, you and my mom sure talked a lot when I wasn’t around. What else did she tell you?”

  “Nothing.”

  They were soon standing in front of Dorrie’s, and Corrine led the way to the groceries section. Andy picked up a basket while Corrine selected several types of mushrooms, butter, parsnips, and a few other items.

  “What are you planning to cook?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Andy walked to the cashier and queued behind a man while Corrine waited outside. He glanced along the row of cashiers, but Chuck wasn’t there, so he paid, picked up the bags, and exited Dorrie’s.

  “Okay, we have the groceries. Where to next?” Andy asked in the parking lot.

  “Follow me,” Corrine said, taking the lead again.

  They walked along the main street, took a turn, and were soon in front of the bridge where his mom used to walk along the river. Corrine walked all the way to the end where the old hut stood and crossed into the dense forest.

  “Where is this secret lair?” Andy said, his shoes sinking slightly into the moist earth.

  “We’re here.”

  “Where?” Andy asked, looking around the thick woods. Small insects made long, shrill noises and then paused before repeating themselves.

  Corrine walked toward a tree and right behind it stood a makeshift straw wall. She pushed it aside with both hands and a small hut, not unlike the one just outside the forest, appeared.

  “Not bad,” Andy said, genuinely impressed. Corrine opened the crumbling door and invited him in. “How did you find this place?”

  “Wandering.”

  It was nothing more than a straw hut with a plywood floor and a single window. A wide cardboard box stood in one corner, overflowing with library books, t-shirts, and old newspapers. Right next to the box was a small wooden rack made of a roughly hewn tree trunk. In the other corner was a big jar of water. If this was where she had been spending her time every day, it was worse than her room at Aunt Magda’s. Corrine spread her hands and smiled.

  “Like it?”

  “Yeah. It’s cool,” Andy said, running his finger along the side of the rack. “You made this?”

  “Yeah.” Corrine grabbed the shopping bag from Andy and placed it by the rack before pulling him outside. “Come, let’s go hunt for something to eat.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Andy asked, following her.

  “What’s the matter, city boy? Afraid of the wild?”

  Andy stared as Corrine led him deeper into the forest. His stomach churned at the thought of hunting animals. In fact, he remembered now why he had always felt a little uncomfortable around Corrine and her antics.

  “No. It’s just… I don’t see why we need to hunt when we have plenty to eat.”

  “Fine. You eat whatever you want. I need meat. You can stand by and watch while I hunt.” Andy shook his head, not at all happy with the turn of events. “Oh, wait. Shhh…” she whispered, crouching behind a large rock. “There’s a rabbit there.”

  A cottontail hopped about, paused, and looked around, twitching its nose. Andy had never seen a rabbit close up, and it looked quite adorable, whiskers and all. A smile was forming on Andy’s lips when Corrine lunged forward without warning and caught the bunny with both hands. The rabbit kicked and writhed, trying in vain to escape her grip.

  “Gotcha!” she said with an air of triumph.

  “Corrine, you can’t kill a rabbit right now. Come on, let it go.”

  She held the squirming rabbit in her hands and walked toward the hut. “Don’t be such a wimp, Andy. There are far more horrifying things happening in the world. This is survival.”

  “It’s not survival and you know it. We have food.”

  Back at the hut, Corrine gripped the rabbit by its ears and rummaged through her overflowing cardboard box with the other hand.

  “What are you doing?” Andy asked. “Are you going to kill it?”

  “I can’t eat it alive, can I?” She found a baseball bat and placed it on the floor.

  “Corrine, please. I don’t think I can watch this.”

  Corrine’s hand dived back into the cluttered box. “Then don’t.” She retrieved a contraption of sorts—a blundering wooden board with canvas straps and metal buckles sticking out from various points.

  “You made that yourself?” he asked, pointing at the clumsy-looking piece of equipment.

  “Yup.” Corrine held the thing in one hand and the rabbit in the other. “Do you mind bringing that?” she asked, pointing her chin at the bat, and went outside. Andy picked it up and followed her. She dropped the contraption on the ground and Andy placed the bat next to it, shaking visibly. He stood back as she crouched and strapped the kicking rabbit’s neck to the board, followed by its tiny legs.

  Andy was perspiring despite the cool air. “Corrine, don’t do this.”

  “If you don’t want to watch, this is the part where you look away,” she said, ignoring Andy’s pleas. A minute later, she raised the baseball bat.

  “Oh God.” Andy’s eyes welled as he stepped back. He stood by the entrance to the hut and closed his eyes and ears while his heart pounded in his chest. She was actually going to club a rabbit to death.

  “Okay,” she said. “One… two…”

  “No!” Andy screamed, plugging his ears with his index fingers and clamping his eyes shut. But despite the effort, he heard the dull thump of the bat cracking the rabbit’s small skull. “God, no!” he screamed as tears poured down his cheeks. “Please, Corrine.”

  Corrine hoisted the bat once more and he heard it again. Blood splattered on Andy’s hands and t-shirt, shaking him to the core, and he wept harder.

  “Done,” Corrine declared.

  Andy was afraid to look. He wiped the tears off his face, turned around, and glanced at his cousin’s face. She was smiling happily as she unstrapped the dead rabbit. The cottontail, which had hopped about just minutes ago, was limp. Its head had collapsed. The eyes had popped out of its skull and a thick mass of blood was oozing from its every orifice. When Andy noticed what looked like feces close to its hind legs, it was all he could handle. The insides of his stomach roiled and pushed up his throat as he cupped his hands over his mouth, ran to a tree, and retched.

  Half an hour later, Corrine had gutted, skinned, washed, and cut the rabbit into pieces. She set up the space outside in the back, strategically arranging six bricks on the ground to place her dented metal pot to make stew. Once it was set up, she placed some twigs and dried leaves between the bricks, put a lid on the pot, and went looking for her cousin.

  Andy had taken a moment to calm his nerves after the retching had stopped. He leaned against the hut and stared at the woods for a while before pulling out his water bottle to rinse his mouth. Although he had been starving a few moments ago, his appetite was now completely gone.

  “Hi,” Corrine said. She was standing next to him with fingers linked behind her back. “Want to help me peel some onions and stuff?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m going back.”

  Corrine crouched on the ground next to Andy and he fought the urge to get up and run. “L
ook,” she said in a soothing voice. “I know it looked barbaric, the way I killed the rabbit. But I promise you, it’s the most humane way to do it. The extreme force to the skull and brain killed the rabbit instantly on the first hit. It felt no pain whatsoever.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Corrine.” His voice was low, resigned. “You didn’t have to kill it. But you did. For sport. We have all this food from your mom, and you refuse to eat it out of spite. And then you went ahead and killed a poor rabbit. I thought you’d changed, but you’re as mean and evil as you’ve always been.”

  “Oh what are you, Andy? Five? I mean, you do eat beef and chicken in that fancy mansion of yours, don’t you? It’s not like you’re a vegetarian. Or did you think animals drop to the ground and die automatically every time someone approaches to buy them for dinner?” Corrine’s eyes were bulging and her lips thin. “All you rich folks are the same. Getting all self-righteous when the things you do in private are way more vile. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your father’s leather shoes. So quit preaching at me.”

  Andy thought about Corrine’s words for a moment. She sounded pretty smart for a school dropout. And maybe she had a point. But he still couldn’t fathom bludgeoning an animal to death without a trace of compassion. He shook his head.

  “And I have changed, Andy,” she went on, glaring at him. “My parents have changed too. This whole fucking town has changed. I could write a whole goddamn book about it. Maybe someday, when you actually trust me and don’t think I’m crazy like the rest of this town, I'll tell you all about it. But until then, you’ll have to earn my trust, and you’re not going to get there by being a sanctimonious prick.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to make lunch. You can either help me cut some vegetables or you can go home. But if you go home, don’t bother looking for me again. ’Cause I won’t have any business talking to you.” She walked away.

  Andy didn’t know what to think. His feelings ran the gamut from disgust to guilt. All he had ever seen was Corrine consistently treating others without a shred of empathy. The Corrine he had known as a child was fearless, cruel, and indifferent, and she was no further from that now. But he was certain the root of her problems lay somewhere else. At the moment, he was the only one Corrine would speak openly to. If he played this right, she might actually share with him her reasons for behaving the way she did. And the real reason she dropped out of school. But if he didn’t, chances were she’d kick him out and never speak to him or anyone else again. And he would have failed Aunt Magda.