Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes by Chris Crutcher

course, the whole family was astonished, and they gasped and then cheered and patted him on the back. When his mother finally asked why it took him so long to speak, he said, “Up till now, everything’s been okay.”
    â€œRight,” I say, watching Ellerby polish off the burger on the third bite.
    â€œI just said what I believed, that’s all,” he says, swallowing.
    â€œYeah, I know. I heard you. It’s just that I hadn’t heard much about what you believe before that day. Or since.”
    Ellerby sits back in the booth. “Beliefs.” He smiles. “You’re talking to the son of a preacher man,” he says. “You better set aside a few hours before you get me started on that.
    I glance at my watch. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’ve wondered about you being a preacher’s kid. Is that tough?” I’ve never heard Ellerby complain.
    He shakes his head. “Not with my dad.” He nods toward the window, in the direction of the Cruiser. “How do you think I get away with driving that beast?”
    â€œI figured you must be as hard to handle at home as you are at school.”
    He smiles again. “Shit, man. If my dad said the word, I’d have it sanded down and primed by morning.”
    â€œI’ve never thought of your old man as scary.”
    â€œHe isn’t scary. I’d do it out of respect.”
    I’m aware I’ve known Ellerby almost four years and I know almost nothing about his family. In fact, often as not I think of him as an orphan that my mother feeds.
    â€œWhen my brother died,” Ellerby says, his eyes almost dreamy, “times were hard. My mother couldn’t quit crying and my dad just lost himself in his work. I remember wishing for Sunday to hurry up because I knew I’d at least see him at church. Mom was so hurt she couldn’t even talk to me, and after about six months I started thinking my brother was the only kid in the family worth being happy about. I got it in my head that it should have been me who died. When Dad finally started getting back to normal, he was so busy trying to take care of Mom and running the church and all, he seemed to have forgotten about me. I was just a little shit, but I packed my stuff in my brother’s old gym bag and lit out for my uncle’s.
    â€œOnly problem was, my uncle lives on the East Coast. Cops picked me up five blocks from home and called Dad. When he came down to the station I ran and buried my face in his chest and babbled how sorry I was, that I was sorry it was Johnny instead of me, and Dad dropped to his knees with me and held me tight and told me right there, on the cold concrete floor, how bad he’d screwed up. Since that day, I haven’t had a better friend.”
    Ellerby’s eyes are shiny and he continues quietly. “Beliefs. Man, I changed the face of God for my old man forever.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? How?”
    â€œBy making him explain to a nine-year-old kid why God would let a preacher’s son die when he was going to grow up to be a preacher, too. I told him I thought God must be dumb, cheating them both out of a high draft pick like my brother. I said I thought if you were a preacher, God ought to give you a little extra protection. You know, like cops don’t give each other tickets?”
    â€œWhat’d he say?”
    Ellerby smiles. “He said he thought so, too. That he was as surprised as I was when it happened. Anyway, that’s when we sat down and tried to figure out God’s job description. You heard a piece of it the other day in class.”
    â€œYou were a real hit with Brittain.”
    â€œThat stuff scares guys like Brittain. Guys like him don’t want to be accountable for shit. They fall to their knees on the deck when they should concentrate on swimming hard. That’s why I said what I said about your friend Sarah Byrnes. She’s been around all my