The Serpent King(53)

“Before you go, can I tell you one of my favorite parts of all of the Bloodfall books?” Travis asked.

“Please,” Gary said.

“I don’t know why I love this part so much. But I love the engraving Raynar Northbrook put on Baldric Tanaris’s tomb after the Battle of the Weeping Vale.”

Gary gave a melancholy smile. “I remember that part well. I wrote it right after my first wife passed away. I was deeply depressed, and I was thinking a great deal about what it meant to live a good life. And I decided that it was so your friends could write something of that nature about you when you were gone.”

“I think that’s why I like it,” Travis said. “It makes me want to live a good life.”

Gary beamed. “Good,” he said softly.

As Gary was about to get out, Lydia gasped. “Wait! I almost forgot!” She pulled a hardcover edition of Bloodfall from her bag and handed it to Gary. “Please sign this for my friend Travis.”

“Indeed, indeed!” Gary pulled a gold fountain pen from his jacket pocket and signed the frontispiece with a flourish. To Travis of House Northbrook, my new friend, large in stature, strong of imagination. Become who you were meant to be.

Lydia handed the book to Travis. “You need to lend me your old copy of Bloodfall, since I need to read it.”

Travis got out to give Gary a last handshake. Gary chuckled. “We’re friends now, Travis. I hug friends goodbye.” He grabbed Travis in a huge bear hug and they took one last picture together.




“I can’t believe this night happened. I can’t believe this really happened. Lydia, you’re so amazing.” He repeated this mantra. His bouncing up and down in the backseat made the car rock.

“I’m pulling over if you don’t stop.” Lydia had a teasing lilt in her voice. “You’re going to make us run off the road.”

“Sorry. Y’all, I’m going to do what he said. I’ll start writing. Maybe I can take some classes at the community college in Cookeville or something.”

“Do it, Trav,” Dill said. “You’ve got what it takes.”

His mind buzzed the whole way home. It was rare for his real life to be so good that it would displace his imaginary life. But this time it was.

He formulated his plan. He’d get some sleep (yeah right, especially once I start texting Amelia), and the next day, when he was done at school and the lumberyard, he’d get on the Internet and start looking for writing advice. Maybe I should get a notebook to keep it in. I should start saving up for a new laptop and writing classes. And I should get someone who knows writing to read it. Maybe Lydia will. But I better write fast before she leaves for college and gets too busy. Exuberant purpose filled him.

They dropped him off after more fevered thank-yous. As he walked up to his house, he again lamented that he forgot to bring his cell phone. Yes, Lydia got plenty of pictures, as usual, but he wanted to send Amelia photos of himself and the master and upload them to the Bloodfall forums as soon as possible. They’ll never believe that G. M. Pennington—sorry, “Gary”—bought him ice cream and hung out with him for more than two hours. Oh, and the signed copy of Bloodfall.

He entered the dark house. His father sprawled on the couch in the flickering glow of the TV. When he saw Travis, he picked up the remote and turned it off.

“Where were you?” he asked, slurring.

Travis knew his father’s tone. His heart sank. Please not tonight. Please not tonight of all nights. Let me just have this. “With my friends, like I told you, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember.”

“Well, sorry. Anyway.” He started for his room.

“Get your ass back here. We ain’t done.”

Travis turned, yanked thoroughly back to Earth. And so it begins.

“I got a call come in at four-thirty needing a load of pressure-treated for a deck. Five-hundred-dollar order. And guess what? I didn’t have nobody to deliver it.”

Travis began to sweat. He felt queasy. “I’m sorry. I told Lamar, and he said he’d cover deliveries.”

“Lamar’s oldass brain forgot. You left me high and dry. I tried calling you. Bunch of times.”

“I forgot my cell phone.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Travis’s father stood up. “I got it right here in my damn hand.”

He hurled it at Travis. It hit him in the sternum with a meaty thud. He managed to grab it on the rebound before it hit the floor. He caught a glimpse of the screen. Fourteen missed calls. All from his father.

Travis’s father walked unsteadily toward him. “Five hundred you cost me today. What you got to say about it? Huh? Think we can afford that?”

“I’m really sorry, Dad. Can’t we deliver tomorrow? They probably didn’t think if they called that late—”

“No. No. We can’t deliver tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“What’s that?” His father pointed at Travis’s newly signed copy of Bloodfall. “Huh? What’s that? More faggy wizard shit?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Huh? That what you cost me five hundred dollars for?” he shouted.

“I’ll take the delivery tomorrow. Before school. I’ll—”