Free The Fading by Christopher Ransom

didn’t.’
    They stared at each other. He could see that sheknew the real reason, or some bullshit school counselor version of it. He could hear his dad talking to her and Lisa at the
     dinner table. Noel is a troubled boy. He’s very fragile. He’s not to be in the house without supervision. He shrugged and
     looked away. He couldn’t look at her too long or else she would know he was already thinking things about her.
    ‘It’s okay if you miss your dad,’ she said.
    Noel laughed and went to the fridge. He needed a Coke or something, then he was getting the fuck out of here. ‘Why would I
     miss an asshole like John?’
    ‘He’s not an asshole,’ Julie said.
    ‘Really? What is he, then?’
    ‘He’s really nice. And sometimes nice is enough. That’s what my mom says.’
    ‘And what do you say?’
    ‘We lived in Florida. My mom came here first, for her job. Then my dad sent me to visit and I decided not to go back.’
    ‘Good for you.’ Noel slammed the fridge. ‘Tell your mom to buy some Coke.’
    ‘You’re the one who’s been eating all the food.’
    He glared at her.
    ‘They thought it was me for the first few days, as if I would eat frozen egg rolls and bean burritos.’
    ‘They know I’ve been here?’
    ‘Well, duh. Who else would it be?’
    ‘Shit. I gotta go.’ He headed toward the front door.
    ‘I won’t tell,’ Julie said behind him.
    ‘Like I give a crap!’ He slammed the door. Outside,walking to the clubhouse, he felt like a jerk. But then again, screw her. Some little spoiled brat moves in, acts like she
     owns the place. Didn’t buy his story about the gas. Probably’d tell her mom as soon as Happy John’s new trophy wife got home.
     Although, really, Noel had seen Lisa and she wasn’t much of a trophy. She had that nutty permed hair and a serious butt.
    Julie, though. Not bad at all. Why hadn’t he seen her before today? Home from school early? He looked at the Swatch he’d absorbed
     at the mall the week before he turned thirteen. It was five minutes till three. Stupid. He must have gotten distracted in
     the garage. Julie the Princess Eighth Grader now had major leverage over him.
    Whatever. He’d find another way to fuck with Happy John, from a distance.
    He went back again the next day. Told himself it was to look for more money. His stomach was queasy during the ride out to
     Highway 36. Told himself it was because he didn’t eat breakfast. He rode up and down the street, to see if anything was different.
     The shitheel hadn’t called his mom last night, so maybe the brat had kept her word. He locked the Honda up near the pool and
     took his time walking back to the house. The neighborhood was all gray. Gray three-story town houses with sharp angles, with
     a line of yellow and blue flags lining the streets, like this was a yacht club. In the middle of Colorado. Yuppieville.
    On her way out the door for work this morning, his mom had asked him what he was going to do today.
    ‘Same thing I do every day,’ he said from the bathroom, into the mirror. He had a new pimple in the small cluster that liked
     to form at the left corner of his mouth. He needed a haircut. ‘Read some books and do the exercises.’
    Three years ago, when he had turned eleven, Rebecca took him to Boulder Bookstore on the Pearl Street Mall and bought him
     $300 worth of books. She started him on
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
and
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
and
The White Mountains
, gradually led him into
Johnny Got His Gun, Gatsby, 1984
. ‘I knew it,’ she told him midway through the first year, after administering a standardized test one of his former teachers
     gave her. ‘You’re reading at the eleventh-grade level.’
    After he got a taste for it, losing himself in the safe and simple bubble that was reading for pleasure, his mom let him wander
     his way through the Beat writers.
On the Road, Howl, Naked Lunch
. Reading pacified him at first, giving him an excuse to stay in bed