A couple of wadded-up pillows are the only sign his father was there. His father sleeps there in the summer, in front of the window-unit air conditioner, which is the only thing in the house that can banish the summer heat. That means Lance’s father is never far away.įrom the narrow hallway outside his door, Lance immediately looks to the sofa in the living room. The house is small-a single-story box with a triangular roof, the way a child would draw one. Lance leaves his room cautiously, the way a cowboy on the black-and-white shows his dad likes would leave a saloon when shots have already been fired in the street. If they aren’t in the hiding place, then he knows where they are, and he won’t be getting them back. He doesn’t have time to keep looking for the shoes, and it would be pointless anyway. He forgot to bring a glass of water in with him last night, and once his father had been home by the television, draining one can of beer after another, Lance had known better than to risk coming out of his room. There isn’t a breeze to be found on this sticky August morning. The lace curtains, once white and now dingy gray, hang perfectly still over his bedroom window even though he pushed the bottom sash all the way up last night when it was so hot that he couldn’t sleep. Lance fits the floorboards carefully back into place and stands up. He doesn’t want to add his old boots to the list. It’s not like the other kids don’t already have enough to make fun of him for. Not his worn-out boots, with their soles gaping apart from the toes like ragged tongues. He’d been determined that, when the time came to get on the school bus, for once he’d be wearing decent shoes. How could this have happened? He’d put them under the floorboards by his bed, the only place in the house where his father couldn’t find anything. He tries not to panic, but his mind is spinning. It’s the first day of school, and Lance can’t find his new shoes. Mailing list subscribers also get exclusive content like free short stories and advanced copies of Rachel’s new releases. The best way to keep up with Rachel’s writing is by joining her mailing list. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, or organizations is entirely coincidental. The names, characters, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not meant to be construed as real. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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