A pair of black glasses with thick lenses was constantly perched on his nose and his crew-cut hair was dark gray on the sides, blending into a lighter gray strip down the center of his head. His manner of dress was always the same; a brown work shirt and jeans on week days, a suit on Sunday. As soon as I realized he was leaving, I leaped to my feet and followed.
The Judge never offered to take me with him, and I never asked permission. It was understood by everyone concerned that where he went, I went too. The truck passed the Swanner house and I shifted my gaze forward as we turned in at Andersons Salvage Yard.
The Judge pulled to a stop at the end of a row and we climbed out. The main focus of the salvage yard was the big tin building sitting in front of the gate, heat waves shimmering from the top and the scent of stale oil and gasoline permeating the air.
He was sitting behind a dirty counter, his feet propped up on top of it. What brings you out this way? Think you might have something? Now I was banished to standing beside him, handing over tools as he needed them. Anderson turned his head. Silently, he moved through the debris and stopped at the counter, waiting. Anderson turned his glare back on the Judge. The only difference between him and Lindsey Swanner was that everyone knew Nick was there.
Even at ten he was hard to ignore. The woman considered dirt of any type her mortal enemy and searched it out with a diligence that was both frightening and awe-inspiring.
When I was little she had me convinced that one speck of dirt on my person had the potential to kill me on the spot. These days I repaid the favor by getting dirty at every opportunity, thereby sending Aunt Darla into a few hysterics of her own. The Judge says what goes around, comes around, and we both understood his warning was mostly for show.
When I did, I watched him from the corner of my eyes. He was tall for his age and thin, his body all sinew and bones that seemed to protrude in every direction. His black hair was thick and long, even for a world that used the Beatles and the Rolling Stones as the current fashion trend. He was going to talk to me! My mother says I just have a delicate bone structure. Everybody in town knows who you are.
But that had been years ago and I was hoping people would quit bringing it up every chance they got. It was time to chance the subject. Mama felt so guilty she cried with me and promised to never spank me again. When I tested this out by gingerly licking the bar of soap, I decided my cussing days were over.
It was two inches wide and curved around his side, the edges of the strip laced with cuts, most of it dark blue in color. Lifting one finger, I touched the mark gently. I stared right back, not willing to give an inch, but inside a mixture of horror and sympathy filled me.
None of it showed on my face, though. Even at my tender age I understood pride. Most of the time I stay out of his way. But you need some medicine on it. If you see a Google Drive link instead of source url, means that the file witch you will get after approval is just a summary of original book or the file has been already removed.
Loved each and every part of this book. I will definitely recommend this book to romance, contemporary lovers. Your Rating:. Your Comment:. Read Online Download. I never saw him dressed in anything but khaki pants, soiled with stains of unknown origin, his huge stomach, covered in a badly stretched T-shirt, sagging over his belt.
Every kid in Morganville knew to give him a wide berth when he was in that condition. Drunk, he was downright dangerous. Apparently, the only one who could stand him was Liz Swanner. Jenna Howard, my best friend since kindergarten, told me Mr. After all, she had six kids to feed and no job to support them. The whole family was on welfare, although they barely got enough to survive. The Swanner house was the last one between the salvage yard and town.
It sat alone, an outcast from its neighbors, a single-story shotgun house with flakes of paint clinging here and there to its weathered boards.
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