“But when I opened that door, who should I see there but the Rambling Duke himself, old Davey Boy Pennington, and his durn cronies. Awful Sinclair, that durned redneck pretty boy, and a couple others. All sitting around, laughing at their bad jokes, mugs half-empty, lousing up the place.

“‘What do we got here?’ said Davey Boy. ‘Looks like Bobby Felix got himself a picture. It’s a pretty picture, ain’t it boys?’

“‘Y’all ain’t supposed to be here,’ I said. ‘Y’all are supposed to be gone.’

“‘But we ain’t, are we, boys?’ he said. ‘Nope, we’re right here. Right where you are.’

“‘If I ain’t mistaken,’ said Sinclair, the louse, the coward, ‘that there flower picture looks an awful lot like your girlfriend, don’t it, Davey?’

“‘Sir, I do believe you’re right. How do you feel about it, Sinclair?’

“‘I believe the runt has his sights set on your lady, I do.’

“‘She isn’t your lady,’ I said. ‘She’s her own, and she’s my friend.’

“‘Your friend is she?’ said Davey Boy. ‘I suppose that’s right. She’s the only reason we keep you around, anyway. But I’m starting to think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Bobby Felix.’

“‘But this is my home,’ I said. ‘The only place I ever belonged.’

“‘Belonged?’ said Davey Boy. ‘You’ll never belong here. Not with us.’

“Davey Boy started to dance, a stupid little jig, singing while the others clapped. And he took my flowers and he shredded them, he plucked them out one by one and scattered them across the floor. I scrambled to pick them up, my months of work, all my heart put into that, and they began pushing me, back and forth, spinning me around until I got dizzy, until I thought I’d vomit. Then they picked me up by my trousers, they did, and tossed me back and forth, little guppy that I was, little runt. That’s what my daddy always called me, Runt, or Worm, or Scab, anything nasty he could.

“‘You hang on to her like a scab,’ said your daddy. ‘Like a tick, sucking her blood. And I won’t have it anymore. I won’t have you anymore.’

“My shirt ripped first, my best shirt, the one I saved up all my money for. That went straight to the floor, with my wilting ruined flowers. Sinclair shoved me hard as he could and I tripped, I fell face-forward, and your daddy yanked me by the back of my trousers. And as I fell, they ripped. I mean, clean split down to my ankles.

“I tumbled naked onto the floor of Samantha Annie’s cabin.

“And that’s when the door opened. There stood Samantha Annie, with her witch pal Marina right behind her, staring aghast at me, naked and dirty and weeping, covered in browning rose petals, while the rest of them stood around and laughed. I bolted past her and threw myself into the swamp, into the mud and snakes and leeches, into the scum of it all. And that’s where I been ever since.”