| OCR Text |
Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 158 When I return home that afternoon, Bobby is in our room on the bed. His face is all flushed and cried out and his lower lip is still vibrating. "What happened?" "Nothing." "Come on, what happened?" He shakes his head and turns back toward the wall, it's something you don't want to see: your brother home crying in the middle of the day. Butch has crying figured out; he wouldn't have any trouble with this. "Did Cling and those guys pick on you?" "We were down by the swings." "Did he scare you?" "Yeah." He starts crying a little again. "Did he hit you?" "I don't know." Bob says this and I look at him curled on the bed and I realize how much like me he really is. He doesn't know, he says. Well, I know. Cling hit him, and the truth is it doesn't matter because I saw and dreaded this all summer and now it's different than I expected because I'm mad down in my chest, mad and hurt for my brother, and it looks like the first fight of my life is going to be with Cling after all. "You gonna be all right?" I say to Bobby. "I'm okay-" His voice is thick and hoarse from the crying, and it trebles the pain in my chest. I turn on the wall |
