BooksBarbecue
Back The House Party
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. April 2008
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. Author’s Note
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. About the Author
  57. About the Publisher

“I know,” Hunter said. “I know I did. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He looked close to tears. “You’re my only real friend, Will. June isn’t even talking to me anymore.”

Will was shaking his head. “That sucks for you. But we are not friends,” he said. “Not anymore. I’m about to lose everything that I worked for. Maddie is drinking herself into oblivion, as far as I can tell. I can’t feel bad for you. You have a whole team of people to help you. I only have myself. Stay away from Maddie, and stay away from me. I don’t want anything to do with you. Ever again.”

Will pushed past Hunter, ran back across the lawn, and slipped into the trees. When he was sure Hunter hadn’t followed him, he slowed down. He yelled in frustration and took a swing at a tree, scraping the new skin off his recently bruised knuckles. Even alone in the woods, his face burned with anger and with shame. He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind when it came to Hunter. And he couldn’t believe he’d almost stolen that book. He didn’t like who he was becoming.

42

Will pulled his truck into the parking lot of the county services building and cut the motor. He sat for a moment, looking at the east end of the building, where the new police headquarters sat. Couldn’t be helped, he told himself. He swung the truck door open and went around to the back, where he had bins full of sports equipment that he’d collected over the last few months from local families. It was his senior year service project: collecting gently used sports gear for the county’s camp program. The low-cost camp was a bit of an afterthought when it came to county funding, since unlike the school, it mainly served working-class residents. He remembered being in the program himself, using his brother’s old glove to play baseball. Trip’s glove was already a hand-me-down when he received it, and by the time it passed to Will, it was coming apart at the seams. When Will got to middle school, he saw the equipment many of the other kids were working with: fresh bats and gloves every year, the latest pads and football cleats, and lacrosse sticks that barely saw playing time before they were discarded for new and better models. He saw this wealth of abandoned gear sitting in his friends’ garages, and it occurred to him that he knew where it could be put to better use.