His head is down. A sweep of shaggy hair hides his eyes. My brother looks about to cave in on himself. The body under his clothes is crumpling before my very eyes. One hand steadies himself against the hood of the car. When we last saw him, he was walking after Anna May and Everett. He must have found them, and whatever words were passed had hurt him bad.
The sight of him brings the cry from my lips: “Will!”
At my sound there’s a flurry of movement from the kids at the stand. A shape peels away from them. A big shape. It starts across the gravel.
“Will, what’s happened?” When he don’t answer, I turn to Frankie—but he’s looking away from me, toward the mountain-like shape that’s marching toward us. I suck in a breath as Everett Scott comes up, all two thousand pounds of him.
“Will Elliot!”
My brother’s got a beautiful name, but the way Everett says it makes it sound like something gross.
Will flinches at the sound, but he don’t look up.
There’s a sudden charge on the night air. The hairs along my arms rise on end as I watch Everett storm over to Will. He means to fight him, though why I can’t say.
“You think you can try stealing my girl right in front of me?” Everett asks. “You Elliot boys are something else!”
There’s pure venom in those words. Everett is huge, even taller than Pete, thicker around the middle, like a tree trunk. He’s a fish-smelling grizzly bear of a boy—and he’s rolling up his sleeves.
The crowd of kids comes over to us now, feeling the coming fight. They draw closer, though not too close, and make a ring around us.
Frankie tugs my sleeve. I look and I see her now. Anna May Fenton standing on her tiptoes on the walk under that yellow light, tilting her head to see over the crowd.
Right in front of us, Everett is steaming like a bull.
“You Elliots can live like animals if you want back in your holler. But when you come to town, you’re around actual human beings. You straighten up. You need help straightening up?”
Anna May shouts from the stand. “Everett! You stop it right now!”
Everett ignores her. Will looks sick. His face is gray. He’s still leaning against that car, his head still down. He won’t so much as look at Everett. Everett is disgusted with him, but he’s got an audience now, and he’s still hoping for that fight. He tries to bait Will again.
“I said animals,” Everett goes on. “But I’m wrong.” He scrunches up his nose. “I meant trash.”
I drop that empty popcorn bag.
This is it, I think. If Everett Scott wants a fight, why, then Will is going to give it to him. Nobody calls our family trash—nobody.
Only Will don’t answer him. He just stands there.
“Go ahead, Will,” I say then. “Let him have it.”
But he doesn’t. My brother just stares at dirt.
And that’s when I know for sure that my brother is truly broken. Whatever happened before the movie, when he went after Everett and Anna May, it’s defeated him. His spirit’s been crushed. His fire is out. Will is like a dead star.
Hot tears well up in my eyes then because I know this will be the worst. Will won’t ever recover from this. For the whole rest of his life, he will carry the shame of that night Everett Scott insulted him and our whole family and he did nothing about it. This will be worse even than losing his hero. This will be like dying, but worse, even: it’ll be a killing of the soul.
“Leave him alone!” I cry out. “You big dumb bully!”
I feel the eyes of the crowd fall on me now. Everett grunts.
“Real cool, Will. Let your kid brother stick up for you.”
All I can do is stand there, and so help me God, tears start running down my face.
Everett smirks at that. “That’s it, candy-ass. Cry.”
“Will,” I sniff. “Are you just going to let him say those things about us?”
Then, finally, Will speaks.
“Go back to the truck, Jack,” he says in a voice so weak I almost don’t even hear him.
My jaw drops. For a moment I can’t even breathe.
Everett snorts. He ain’t getting his fight. Will don’t have any fight to give.
Everett lets out a bunch of air, like hot steam escaping the valve of some greasy machine. His enormous bulk turns to go.
That’s when Frankie steps into the circle. Our city-boy cousin. His face is smooth, but I feel the electricity coming off him.
“Hey,” Frankie calls out. “You with the face.”