Deception Creek by Terry Persun

to keep you focused on what’s important.”
    â€œI don’t know how I feel yet. Just don’t give up on me. Promise you’ll stick with me.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    The latter half of the day found Billy lugging shingles, nails, tar, and tools up and down the ladder for Hillman Stutz, who spent a lot of time inspecting roof damage and removing old shingles. With all the construction going on around town, a front loader wasn’t available to deliver the shingles to Hillman. Billy’s legs ached as he shouldered the last of the new shingles up the ladder. After setting them down, Billy stood near Hillman and waited for him to speak.
    Hillman was the opposite in build from Mel. His tall, thin frame made him look lightweight. Big feet stretched out at the ends of his skinny legs like a toy punch-clown. He probably couldn’t fall over even if he tripped, Billy thought. And he was quiet, relative to Mel.
    Billy waited as the man flipped shingles from the roof. “What next?” Billy finally said.
    Rolling his eyes up at Billy without lifting his head, Hillman said, “Do what I’m doing, but start over there.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the roof. “There’s three layers. Take them all off. I want to see bare board when you’re done.”
    â€œThat’s it, then?” Billy said.
    Hillman smiled a broad, fake smile. “That’s it.”
    Billy grabbed a long-handled crowbar similar to Hillman’s, walked to the far side of the roof, and began pushing the tool under the shingles, lifting them up like Hillman, except that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. Billy couldn’t get the shingles to flip up and off like Hillman did. His arms pumped harder and one or two lifted. He hadn’t gotten down to bare wood though. His aching thighs shook as he pushed the tool under the shingles. The sudden stops, as he forced the tool with his arms, assaulted his body clear to his back, between his shoulder blades. In less than half an hour, Billy had to stop. The sharp pain in his back had gotten worse. He held the long bar loosely to his side. A small patch of roof shingles were gone, a three by six foot patch of bare wood showed. Billy heard Hillman walk up behind him.
    â€œLet me show you the easiest way to get this done.” He took his own tool and slid it beneath the first layer of shingles. “For you, start with one layer at a time. Slide the tool easily, don’t force it. You’ll hit a nail and it’ll just stop you dead, sending shock waves back through your arms and into your body. So slide easily until you can’t push any farther, then lift.” He demonstrated. Shingles lifted and pulled loose from their nails. “It gets heavy as you move upward, but just push the free ones aside every once in a while.” He motioned with his hand for Billy to try.
    Billy lifted his bar and did as he’d been shown. Shingles lifted free.
    â€œSee how it works?” Hillman pointed to his side of the roof. The removed shingles lay around loosely on the bare wood. “See the angle? Allow them to lift up like that. They overlap, so they’ll come up easier if you do it diagonally.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me this before?”
    Hillman shrugged. “You got it now, don’t you?”
    Sweat ran down the side of Billy’s head. He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped his face with it. His lips were dry and saliva thick. “Yeah,” he said. “I got it now.”
    Hillman walked back to his own side and began to work again.
    Billy turned back to his own work, but not until he shaded his eyes with his right hand and looked out over the town. The clatter of jackhammers, hydraulic hisses, and pounding hammers, joined and separated — the town repairing itself.
    â€œHey!” Hillman yelled.
    Billy went back to work. Sliding the bar beneath a flat of old shingles, he pushed easily