“Get up, boy,” Victor drawled, and as Joel went to push up to his feet, the sun reflected on something shiny, making it glow like a flashlight. He focused on the light spilling out from under the tarp and squinted against the brightness of it—
“I said, get up.” This time Victor grabbed Joel’s arm and hauled him to his feet before he could work out what exactly he was looking at.
When Jimmy reached the boat, he looked to Victor, who let Joel go with a slight shove to his shoulder, and Joel’s eyes shifted to his father. He had the fleeting thought that maybe he should take his chances with the alligator- and snake-infested waters instead of these two.
“Joel, get over here,” his father ordered him, and Joel ducked his head as he came to a stop at the edge of the boat. “Victor explained why I couldn’t be there today?”
Not really, no, but Joel wasn’t going to argue, so he merely nodded.
For a long time now, he’d been teaching himself how to be invisible around his father and his men. Having grown up without a mother—or any other living relative, according to Jimmy—he’d learned quickly that the best way to survive in a crowd like that was to either become one of them or fade into the background and hope to God they forgot you existed. Something he’d gotten down to an art form, until today.
“Good,” Jimmy said as he held a hand out to help his son onto the dock, and Joel hesitated for a moment. “Come on, Joel,” Jimmy barked. “Get off the damn boat. It’s hotter than six shades of hell out here today.”
Then why are we here?
It was a good question, one Joel might’ve asked if he was any other boy and Jimmy was any other father. But he wasn’t, and one never questioned Jimmy. So Joel took his father’s hand and climbed over the side of the boat. He saw his father glance at Victor and give a clipped nod, some kind of unspoken message passing between them.
“Let’s go. Victor has to unload the boat, and while he does that, I’m going to tell you about the little father/son project we’re going to do today.” Jimmy led Joel up the narrow wooden pier, and Joel followed in silence—of course he did—but something felt very wrong, and when they entered the shack and he saw his large hunting knife, a bowl of water, and rope on the table, Joel suddenly wished the sun had melted him back there on the pier.
“I decided that talk I was going to have with Mr. Stevens would be much more productive if we did it in private, out here. Instead of in town, at your school.”
Jimmy walked over to the table and picked up the knife. “Do you remember the last time you were out here with me, son?”
Joel’s heart was jackrabbiting so hard it was making the blood ring in his ears, and when he didn’t immediately answer, his father said, “Joel, do you remember?”
Joel gulped in some air and nodded as the door to the tiny shack was yanked open and Victor marched inside with the rolled-up tarp from the boat slung over his shoulder. His father didn’t even flinch as Victor walked between them and around to the lone chair at the table, and when he dropped the dead weight onto that chair, the loud noise made Joel jump.
“Good,” Jimmy said. “I’m glad you remember that. Because today I’m going to show you the importance of a clean cut.”
As the word cut left Jimmy’s mouth, Victor yanked the tarp down.
When a familiar face came into view, Joel’s legs began to tremble and his bottom lip quivered uncontrollably as recognition dawned. He was standing opposite his teacher, Mr. Stevens.
As the teacher’s eyes began to open, Victor threw the bowl of water in his face, making Mr. Stevens sputter and shake his head, and when he was finally awake and alert, his gaze frantically darted around the shack. First to Victor, then to Jimmy, and finally to his star pupil—the little boy who had just pissed himself.
Joel shrank back toward the wall by the door, reaching for something to steady him so he could make a run for it. But before he got two steps, his father’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jimmy asked, and Joel tore his eyes away from his teacher to look up at his father. Jimmy’s face began to blur, but there was nothing Joel could do to stop the tears from coming, as he realized what was about to happen here.
What had Mr. Stevens done? What did he owe Jimmy?
As those thoughts ran through Joel’s head, Victor yanked down the left side of the tarp, pulled Mr. Stevens’s arm out and pinned it to the table.