” he says. “Or like a book. A book’s a bool
only with a k.”
17
I guess it depends on youScoot.
These are his father’s words. They linger and do not leave.
I guess it depends on you.
But he is only ten years old and the responsibility of saving
his brother’s life and sanity—maybe even his soul—weighs on
him and steals his sleep as Christmas and New Year’s pass and
cold snowy January begins.
You’ve made him better a lot of timesyou’ve made him better
of a lot of things.
It’s truebut there’s never been anything like this and Scott
finds he can no longer eat unless Daddy stands beside him
hectoring him into each bite. The lowestsnuffling cry from
the thing in the cellar unzips his thin sleepbut most
generally that’s okaybecause most generally what he’s
leaving behind are luridred-painted nightmares. In many of
these he finds himself alone in Boo’ya Moon after dark
sometimes in a certain graveyard near a certain poola
wilderness of stone markers and wooden crosseslistening as
the laughers cackle and smelling as the formerly sweet breeze
begins to smell dirty down lowwhere it combs through the
tangles of brush. You can come to Boo’ya Moon after dark,
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