Page 63 of Bridge of Clay

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Far from angry or betrayed, Rory was somewhere between amusement for the oncoming violence, and a perfect understanding. He said, “I gotta give it to you, kid—you’ve got heart.”

And Clay stood fully upright now, first silent as Rory went on.

“Whether you’re gone three days or three years…You know Matthew’ll kill you, don’t you? When you come back.”

A nod.

“Will you be ready for him?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be?” He thought about it. “Or maybe you never will come back.”

Clay bristled, internally. “I’m coming back. I’ll miss these little heart-to-hearts of ours.”

Rory grinned. “Yeah, good one, look—” He was rubbing his hands together now. “Do you want some practice? You think I was tough down here? Matthew’s a whole other thing.”

“It’s okay, Rory.”

“You won’t go fifteen seconds.”

“But I know how to take a beating.”

Rory, a single step closer. “That much I know, but I can at least show you how to last a bit longer.”

Clay looked at him, right in the Adam’s apple. “Don’t worry, it’s too late,” and Rory knew better than anyone—that Clay was already ready; he’d been training for this for years now, and I could kill him all I wanted.

Clay just wouldn’t die.

* * *


When he came back home, cash in hand, I was watching a movie, the first Mad Max—talk about suitably grim. At first, Tommy had been with me, and begged to watch something different.

“Can’t we just once watch a movie not made in the eighties?” he said.

“We are. This was 1979.”

“That’s just what I was going to say! Eighties or even earlier. None of us were even born. Not even close! Why can’t we just—”

“You know why,” I cut him off. But then I saw that look on him, like he might even start to cry. “…Shit—sorry, Tommy.”

“No you’re not.”

He was right, I wasn’t; this was part of being a Dunbar.

When Tommy walked out, Clay walked in, once the money was deposited in the box. He came to the couch and sat.

“Hey,” he said, he looked over, but I didn’t take my eyes off the screen.

“You still got the address?”

He nodded, and we watched Mad Max.

“The eighties again?”

“Don’t even start.”


Tags: Markus Zusak Young Adult