Chapter One

Tommy heard the clatter in the hall, then a loud thump, followed by the old man muttering. The old man typically blabbered long streams of incoherent mush, which occasionally contained a fully-formed word or two along the way.

Tommy tried to ignore the gibbering voice outside the door. Nobody else stirred at the sound. The other foster boys—Luke, and Jeb, and Isaiah—continued sleeping in the double bed they shared next to his.

Tommy had a bed to himself, though the boys were supposed to share them two apiece. None of the other boys would sleep with Tommy because it gave them nightmares. For the first couple of months Tommy had been here at the Tanners’ house, the two older boys—Luke, who was fifteen, and Jeb, who was thirteen—forced eight-year-old Isaiah to sleep with Tommy.

Nearly every night, Isiah’s screaming and crying woke them all. In fact, Isaiah screamed his head off any time Tommy touched him. Tommy sometimes had that effect on people, especially if they were already scaredy-cats.

Eventually, Luke and Jeb showed mercy and let Isaiah sleep with them, probably just so they could have peace at night. Tommy had slept alone for a couple of years now.

Luke called him “Tommy Nightmare.” The younger boys had taken up the nickname, too.

In the hall, the old man’s muttering grew louder, accompanied by the sound of fingernails scratching the wall. The old man was just lingering there, on the other side of the wall from Tommy, making his pathetic blabbering and whimpering noises.

The old man was Mr. Tanner’s father, and he lived in a room down the hall, next to the master bedroom where Mr. and Mrs. Tanner slept. The Tanners had no children of their own—as they put it, “The Lord had a different plan.” They only had the four foster boys currently entrusted to them by the State of Oklahoma.

Outside the door, the old man’s scratching and gibbering grew more insistent. Tommy sighed and slipped out of bed. The night was freezing cold, and the Tanners only gave him worn old pajama pants to sleep in, because they said suffering was good for a child’s soul. The hardwood floor was so cold it burned his bare feet.

He tiptoed around the other bed, where the three other boys looked very warm, and he felt a pang of jealousy.

He eased open the door, wincing at the creak. He didn’t want the other boys to wake up and start yelling at him. And he really, really didn’t want to wake up Mr. Tanner.

Tommy peeked out into the hall.

Mr. Tanner’s father—whom Mr. Tanner insisted the foster boys call “Pap-pap”—lay sprawled on the warped old boards, one arm draped across his overturned walker. His shaking, liver-spotted hand grasped and released the walker frame, over and over again. Tommy thought of a fish freshly pulled from the creek, how its mouth kept opening and closing as it died.

The old man faced the floor, blabbering nonsense and drooling. His other hand scratched uselessly at the wall. His bathrobe had hiked up, revealing his withered old legs, the color of dead snakeskin. His ankles kicked in the air as if he were pedaling a bicycle.

“Pap-pap?” Tommy whispered. “Do you need help?”

“Muuhwuhh,” the old man said. His whole body shivered on the cold wooden boards.

Tommy looked up and down the hall. He didn’t know what to do. If he woke up Luke, Luke might get mad and punch him in the nuts. He ought to wake up Mr. Tanner, but that idea terrified him. He’d rather get punched in the nuts than walk into Mr. Tanner’s room.

“Okay,” Tommy whispered. “I can help you up, Pap-pap. I’m twelve now. I’m pretty big.”

“Gaaaah,” Pap-pap said. He turned his head and looked at Tommy with one rheumy eye. He stopped scratching the wall, and instead starting grabbing the air. “Guuuh…Guuuuh…”

“It’s okay, Pap-pap. Sh!” Tommy walked softly to the old man, avoiding the two squeaky spots in the hallway floor.

He took the old man’s hand.

“Guuuuh! Guuuh!” The old man trembled harder now. His mouth opened wide. His gray tongue flapped against his black gums.

“Shhh!” Tommy turned the old man over and slid a hand under his side. Tommy could feel his ribs through the threadbare blue robe, and the man was shaking hard. “I just got to prop you against the wall,” Tommy said. “Then we can get your walker. You hear me?”

“Gaaaah..” The old man made a choking sound. He quaked and stared at Tommy.

“Okay, here we go.” Tommy heaved and strained. The old man was frail, but Tommy wasn’t really very strong himself. He wrapped both his arms around the old man’s torso. Tommy tried to imagine he was a superhero, like Batman, sneaking around in the night and helping people. But mostly he felt scared. Pap-pap frightened him. Especially when you knew Pap-pap was the father of Mr. Tanner, who was truly scary.

Tommy pulled the old man up. Fault lines of pain ripped open along Tommy’s back and across his shoulders, but he didn’t give up. He leaned the old man against the wall, but Pap-pap began sliding back toward the floor.

“Careful!” Tommy pressed his hands against Pap-pap’s cold, bony chest. Pap-pap wasn’t wearing anything under his robe but stained yellow jockey shorts.

“Nuuuuuh…Nuuuuuuh!” Pap-pap’s lips quivered and he swung his head from side to side.

“You got to be quiet!” Tommy said. He looked at the overturned walker on the floor. If he let go of Pap-pap, the old man would fall down again. He should have stood the walker up first. Stupid.

Tommy reached out one foot toward the walker, while pressing Pap-pap against the wall with one hand. Tommy could feel the old man’s heart whamming under the loose, dry skin of his chest.

Tommy hooked his toes under the lowest rung of the walker. He pulled it toward him, and it clattered against the uneven floorboards.

“Nuuuh nuuh nuuh!” Pap-pap began slapping Tommy’s head with both hands. “Nuuuh nuuuh!”

“Quit it! I’m trying to help you!”

“Nuuuuh!” Pap-pap stared at him with bright eyes, thick drool hanging from his chin.

Pap-pap’s sharp fingernails dug into Tommy’s cheek, slashing towards Tommy’s left eye.

“Hey!” Tommy turned his face away. He could feel Pap-pap’s heart jutting against his fingertips with every beat.

“Nuuuuh…uuhhh…” Pap-pap stopped struggling. He stopped shaking, and his heart stopped thumping.

“Pap-pap?” Tommy looked back at the old man. Pap-pap sagged against the wall now, not moving at all. His eyes stared somewhere past Tommy’s shoulder, and his mouth dropped all the way open. The old man peed, making a fresh wet stain on his underwear.

Tommy was pretty sure he was dead.

“Oh, God damn,” Tommy said. “Oh, no.”

At the end of the hall, the door to the master bedroom banged open. Mr. Tanner stormed out, all six foot five of him, wearing only his sweatpants. He carried his belt with him, the one with the giant brass buckle shaped like Oklahoma. Mr. Tanner was in his early fifties, and the copious hair on his head and chest was gray, but he was still as big and strong as one of the bulls over on Mr. Whitson’s ranch.

“What are you kids doing out here?” Mr. Tanner yelled. He snapped the belt taut, a horrifying sound. But his angry expression turned to surprise when he saw Tommy pinning the old man against the wall, with the overturned walker right next to Tommy’s feet. “Pap-pap?”

Tommy gaped at Mr. Tanner, too terrified of the man to say anything.

“You leave him alone!” Mr. Tanner shouted. He sprang forward and slapped Tommy’s head, hard enough to send Tommy stumbling down the hall. A painful ringing sound echoed in Tommy’s ear.

Pap-pap slid down the wall, and Mr. Tanner caught him. He looked into the old man’s eyes, but the old man wasn’t looking back. His eyes were as cold and glassy as marbles.

“Oh, Pap-pap,” Mr. Tanner whispered. He eased his elderly father down to a sitting position on the floor, against the wall. “Oh, Pap-pap.” Mr. Tanner looked like he would cry, and Tommy felt like crying, too.

“What on Earth is all this commotion?” Mrs. Tanner stepped out of the bedroom, her blond hair tangled around her narrow, sour face. She wore her frilly pink night dress that barely covered her hips. She was at least twenty years younger than Mr. Tanner, and much shorter. She gasped when she saw Pap-pap and the walker on the floor.

“He’s dead!” Mr. Tanner wailed. He stood up and pointed at Tommy, who cowered against one wall. “Because of him.”

“I didn’t!” Tommy said.

“Didn’t what?” Mr. Tanner advanced on him and snapped the belt again. “Didn’t what, boy?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Looks to me like you attacked him. Why’d you do that?” Mr. Tanner loomed over Tommy. “You tell me.”

“No!” Tommy said.

“Why’s your face all scratched up?”

“I don’t know!” Tommy wailed.

Mr. Tanner cracked the belt against Tommy’s stomach. Tommy slid down the wall and covered his stomach with his arms, so Mr. Tanner began whipping his shoulders instead.

“Oh, goodness,” Mrs. Tanner whispered. That was all she did when her husband beat the foster kids. She stood there and whispered, “Oh, goodness.”

Tommy curled up on the floor, and Mr. Tanner whipped his back and legs.

“I told you this one had the Devil in him!” Mr. Tanner shouted. “I told you!”

“Oh, goodness,” Mrs. Tanner whispered.

Luke and Isaiah, the oldest and the youngest, appeared at the door to the boys’ room. Isaiah opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but Luke covered Isaiah’s mouth with his hand.

“He done brought the Devil into this house!” Mr. Tanner yelled. He was still whipping Tommy, but he was losing steam. After a few more smacks, he turned his attention back to his dead father. He knelt by the old man’s corpse.

“You think we ought to call the ambulance?” Mrs. Tanner asked, in her quiet voice.

“Can’t do him no good now,” Mr. Tanner said.

“We ought to call somebody.”

“Then you go and call somebody!” Mr. Tanner roared. “When did I tell you to get out of the bed, anyhow?”

“I’m sorry!” Mrs. Tanner turned and scurried away to the bedroom.

“Get in the bed!” Mr. Tanner called after her, and then he turned to stare at Tommy. Tommy cringed against the wall, hurting all over, his arms hugging his knees.

“This is the Devil’s work,” Mr. Tanner whispered. “And the Lord demands a special retribution for those who help the Devil do his work.”

Tommy shivered and looked at the floor.

“I’m gonna pray on it,” Mr. Tanner said. “You just stay right there, Thomas.”

Mr. Tanner turned back toward his bedroom, and Luke and Isaiah ducked out of sight. Mr. Tanner slammed his bedroom door and began shouting at his wife.

Tommy stayed where he was, like he’d been told, staring at Pap-pap’s dead body sitting against the wall. An expression of horror was carved into Pap-pap’s face, his eyes stretched wide and his toothless mouth gaping open, as if the old man had died in the grip of an unspeakable nightmare.

Tommy couldn’t stop crying.