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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

“Young ladies,” Miss Manners huffs, “women…admit when they’re wrong. And they’re wrong a lot. So, you best get used to saying it: I. Was. Wron-guh.”

“…I was wrong,” Molly whispers.

Miss Manners unleashes her pageant smile and reaches again for Molly’s cheek. Molly flinches, but our teacher shushes her, softly tapping the wound now blooming with blood. “The rest of you will pair off, but Molly, I want you to treat this classroom as if it were your own home.” Molly nods, swallowing a large chunk of fear. “Good. There’s supplies in the cupboard. Clean your home.”

Nobody argues. I lend a brave smile to Molly, even though I don’t know why. Maybe to leave her with a small glimmer of kindness in such an ugly moment. Either way, she doesn’t return the smile. I want to help her clean, but she can handle this. Molly can handle more than I ever could.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CONNOR’S WIFE

On her hands and knees, Molly scrapes a horsehair brush over the piles of planter soil littering the rug. Sweat beads down her forehead, meeting fresh blood bubbling from a cheek wound that won’t stop gushing—Ramona’s talons cut deep. A ceiling fan does its best to mobilize the home’s stagnant, muggy air, but it’s a losing battle. While Molly labors, Miss Manners relaxes on the sofa and sips from a thermos; chunks of ice slosh around inside the plastic.

We all hear it. We all want it. No one more than Molly.

At the other end of the classroom, the rest of us pair off into husband-and-wife teams. Which, blessedly, turns out is just for fakes. I’m with Darcy, and Lacrishia is with Marcos. Since Molly is otherwise occupied, Drew is allowed an absence from today’s exercise. He skips outside to see Briggs about “camp business,” and it takes every ounce of patience not to wave my finger at him and bellow, “Dirty, dirty, DIRTY!”

I’m at conversion camp for only a day and already my gut instinct is “gay sex is bad!” Way to chameleon to your surroundings, Major.

The rear of the mobile home is cordoned off from the living room with a black curtain, but once Marcos draws it aside, the lesson becomes obvious: we’re having a date night. Three cocktail tables line the back room, each separated from the others by a partition wall. Lacrishia and Marcos disappear into the privacy of their sectioned-off table, and Darcy and I claim ours. A small lamp casts an intimate glow on our hideaway. Finally alone. Beyond Darcy’s shoulder, Molly and Miss Manners are still visible in the living room, but the dark partition wall has effectively quarantined us. Lush, Italian restaurant music waltzes out of a radio, strong enough to muffle Marcos and Lacrishia’s conversation down to a murmur.

“Can anyone hear us?” I whisper.