There’s no avoiding what’s to come. He leaves Dr. Thompson waiting on the boardwalk across the street and strides through the mud over to me, his face a fury, his voice booming. “George, where the hell have you been? Your mam’s worried sick.” “I spent the night at the Harknesses’,” I say. “What happened to your arm?” “It’s broken. I had a fall.” The tears I’ve been holding back burst forth. I’m crying like a little kid, snot running from my nose. “I lost your saw. I’m sorry!” “My saw?” Father’s staring at me, puzzled, trying to make sense of what I’m saying. He looks tired and worn, like this is the last straw. He opens my right hand in his and examines the burn on my palm. “How did this happen?” “It got burned by the electricity in the wire.” “What were you doing touching the wire? Did Mam not tell ye to be careful?” “I didn’t know!” I say. Suddenly, I’m in a confessing mood. “I only got seventy-five cents,” I say, wiping the snot on my sleeve.
What do You think about The Lynching Of Louie Sam?
