The Crazy Horse Electric Game

The Crazy Horse Electric Game by Chris Crutcher Page A

Book: The Crazy Horse Electric Game by Chris Crutcher Read Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Crutcher
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goddam Rose Bowl; your kid gets put out of commission. I want to know where yourstrength is now, Will Weaver. How come you’re not so good now?”
    There’s silence, and Willie can’t imagine what’s on his father’s face this minute.
    Sandy continues. “Will, this family is coming apart at the seams. Since the day Willie got hurt, it’s just been coming apart at the seams. And you’re the reason. You don’t talk to anybody, you don’t help out; you don’t give anyone any reason to believe that things will ever be any better. And I’m about full up.”
    â€œThat your solution?” Big Will says, his low voice vibrating with tension. “Things get a little tough and you hit the road.”
    Sandy explodes. “A little tough! A little tough! Don’t you put this back on me, Will Weaver. I don’t bury my head in the newspaper night after night and pretend my family doesn’t exist! I don’t treat our son like a leper; or worse yet, like he’s invisible. He’s not some possession, you know. He’s not a car you can take back to the dealer because it doesn’t run right. He’s our son. And you’re the one he’s closest to and you better learn to be decent. You drove the boat, Will. Just like I chattered away across the street when Missy died.”
    â€œYeah, well, you’re off the hook!” Big Will yells, his restraint crumbled. “You don’t have to sit around andlook at your screw-up every day. Missy’s six feet under. She’s a memory. Willie’s stumbling around in front of me from before sunrise to long after sunset, just reminding me. You know why he was without air so long? Because I panicked. Because I almost smothered him trying to get that damn jacket off. If it hadn’t been for Jenny, I’d have drowned him. And I’m not so sure that wouldn’t have been better. Let the little shit off the hook!”
    â€œLet you off the hook, you mean! Grow up, Will. Just grow the hell up. Get real. Life isn’t just the Rose Bowl.”
    Willie’s eyes are glued to the closed bedroom door. Smoke from the scalded milk drifts off the stove, bringing him back. He slips into the kitchen to switch off the hot plate, pour the milk into the sink; then slinks back upstairs to the strains of his parents’ relentless accusations. He’s never heard them fight before, much less aim every shot below the belt. Devastated, he crawls back into bed and pulls the covers over his head.
    He just wants out.
    Â 
    Willie limps down the center of the hall, staring at a spot above the archway leading to the stairwell, letting the other students dodge him for a change. He’s takingstock, like Cyril taught him. Counting the positives, over and over. There aren’t many, after last night. There’s Jenny; in a session with Cyril, she promised she’d hang in there with him; promised she’d stay. And there’s Johnny; he’s a good friend sometimes, though he can be a pain in the butt trying to help. His speech is getting better and lately he’s been feeling like maybe he’s going to get it under control. That’s it, though. His parents…no, not supposed to think about that. Just the positives. His mind moves back to Jenny, then Johnny, his speech…
    â€œGot a new sport for you.” Johnny’s voice breaks his concentration as Johnny rushes to catch him, then slows to match Willie’s pace. “It’s perfect. Racquetball,” he says, pulling a shiny new racquet from behind his back. “You only need one hand. Small court. Perfect for you. My dad took me over to play the other night. We can give it a try any time you’re ready.”
    Willie looks at him and can only smile. “Don’t…think so,” he says. “Don’t…think I…could…get…into it.”
    Â 
    Just before noon, Willie follows the

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