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Back Surrender Your Sons Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. Author’s Note with Content Warnings
  2. CHAPTER ONE
  3. CHAPTER TWO
  4. CHAPTER THREE
  5. CHAPTER FOUR
  6. CHAPTER FIVE
  7. CHAPTER SIX
  8. CHAPTER SEVEN
  9. CHAPTER EIGHT
  10. CHAPTER NINE
  11. CHAPTER TEN
  12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  13. CHAPTER TWELVE
  14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  20. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  21. CHAPTER TWENTY
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  31. CHAPTER THIRTY
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER FORTY
  42. EPILOGUE
  43. Acknowledgments

My chest thumps with each sob. I cry for myself, for Ricky and Rigo, for Drew’s aunt, for that trans Beginner, for Vicky, for Avery, for Briggs’s son, and for every day my mother has stolen from me. Every day that was supposed to be mine with Ario. Drew was right: violence surrounds us, and if I’m alone, I’m a target. The Reverend, Briggs, Miss Manners—they all could have injured Ricky with the same ferocity I’ve seen them use on other campers. Anyone here could become another Ricky.

Even me.

The dull, steely flavor from Briggs’s taser lingers on the back of my tongue, and a desire to not be alone overwhelms me. I grip Ario’s recorder, but it does nothing to subside the hurricane building in my head. The knotted, shellacked bamboo has turned cold; there’s no more warmth to it. Ario can’t help me. Pins and needles gather in my hands, which grow heavier and more numb by the second. My fingers bend inward like lobster claws and won’t pry apart—atrophy. I need to calm down, but my throat is shrinking to a pinhole.

Music.

I need Ariana or Kim Petras or even the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I don’t care. Music is the only thing that gives me power over my rebellious body. I search my pockets until my tingling fingers clamp around Bill’s Walkman. Weakly, checking quickly that no one is around, I pry the puffy headphones from my waistband and struggle them into the headphone jack. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. Foam slides over my ears, soft and bristling, and I slam down the play button before my appendages can become dead hammers. The cassette spindles turn, and a peaceful, artificial crackle of audio fills my head.

All right, Karaoke Bill, what are we listening to?

Except no music comes. Only a man’s voice: “Beginning of tape two.”

Ugh, is this a book? An audiobook wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but I expected something more pop from a guy named Karaoke Bill. The cassette’s voice comes again, deep and grim, as if he were narrating a ghost story: “This is the Reverend Gary Packard, and this is day seventy-one of the Expulsion of Ricky Hannigan.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE EXPULSION OF RICKY HANNIGAN

THIRTY YEARS AGO

GARY: This is the Reverend Gary Packard, and this is day seventy-one of the Expulsion of Ricky Hannigan. The date is September fifteenth, 1990. Also present is another camper—my son, Stanley. I’ve allowed him here today to help Ricky with his…uncooperative behavior.

<long silence>

RICKY: What are you looking at? You can’t just always sit there, not talking, and expect me to talk first.

STANLEY: It’s better if you start—

RICKY: Zip it, Stanley! Okay? Blow it out your ass!