Author's Note:14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYyJcrZc4JG
14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg7yqBgYSbH
Hey, we are getting there. This is only chapter 15 but we have been through so much. You. Me. The characters. But mainly you and me. You should commemorate our time together through a comment. Maybe Just an emoji or something. Okay. Story time. Enjoy more Dylan.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZczklYKG3J
~~~14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzJZ5cHDk1B
14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZdiirFXRrb
The boys made their way back to the house without much conversation. There would be time for more questions when they got some clothes for Dylan. This was Willy's first friend his age, after all. The neighbor boy was already fifteen and didn't want to play with him, not to mention the two mile trek just to get to his house. He said he was too old to play cowboys.
Starboy, however must have been about the same age as him. Willy let himself get excited thinking of what type of games Dylan might want to play. He wondered what type of games do they play where he came from. There would be time for that later.
When the house came into view, they had renewed speed, only slightly hampered when Dylan's bare foot found an errant twig. Nevertheless, they stamped into the house. Barging through the door surprised Walter who fanned himself in the shade of the kitchen.
"Oop! What now? Hey now, boy. Who you brung here?" He's been sounding more like Papa every day.
Willy didn't want to make his new friend wait so shouted over his shoulder and kept it moving. "He- He's a neighborhood boy. Name's Dylan."
They hadn't drawn a bath today but it looked like Walter had a bucket of water staged at the door for the rest of his chores when he had cooled down some. Willy wet a rag and helped Dylan wipe off some of the dust. Dylan for his part, kept scooting away in embarrassment, Willy guessed.
"Now hold still, Dylan. You're downright filthy." He didn't bother keeping the water from dripping onto the crooked floorboards. "I got some clothes, but if you gonna wear my clothes, you best be clean first."
They had barely got his shoulders wet when Willy's older brother stamped into the shared bedroom.
"Now hold on, William. Where you been? Who in goodness name is this? I don't know this boy. He ain't no neighborhood boy." Walt's barrage didn't stop but he didn't interrupt Willy's cleanings either. "And why is he necked? And would you look at the mess on the darn floor?"
Willy didn't turn away from his task but he let go of the lie about Dylan being from around here. "I don't know, Walt. Thinking he fell from the sky."
"You smart alec, I isn't playing. Who is this boy?"
"I done told you, Walt." He left Dylan to finish cleaning himself and opened his dresser drawer. "This is Dylan. I fount him in the field just as you see him now. Fell from the darn sky, I tell you. Now, he needs clothes."
"Well I see that much, Willy. Where'd you come from, necked boy?" Walt addresses him for the first time.
"Can you let him put some damn clothes on first, Walt?" He passed Dylan some ragged pants and shirt that should fit him.
Dylan managed to slip on some pants while Walt took a postured step towards his little brother. "Now I told you about the D-word, William"
"But Papa says-" He cut his own words off when he saw Dylan fall down to the ground, crying again. "S'matter, Dylan? I won't say the d-word no more. Promise"
He crouched and offered a pinky swear out to the boy. Dylan lifted his head to meet Willy's eyes.
He could never know how much Dylan wanted to hear his mom or Uncle Zeph use the d-word again.
They clasped pinkies.
Dylan huffed and sniffled as he finished getting dressed. As Walter watched the boy and saw exactly why Willy brought him home on the first place.
"Look, Willy, you still got chores and the day ain't gettin' younger." Walt crossed his arms just the way Papa used to. "Take your friend with you, get ya chores done and we can explain this to Papa over dinner."
Willy put an arm around Dylan and guided him out to the field where the afternoon started to cool. Willy showed him how he tills the field and how Papa says that the air mixes in the dirt for the next crops. Dylan wasn't much help and Willy figured there weren't too many farms where he came from.
"You a city boy or something? I haven't met 'em but I heard there're folk that ain't much for the hard labor off to the East." Willy watched Dylan struggle to drag the hoe through tough soil. There was no response.
"It's okay, Dylan. You are safe here. Wherever you came from- well there ain't much round here is what I'm saying. No robbers or..." He leaned over to catch Dylan's face. "Or aliens."
Dylan stifled a smirk.
"Just you, I guess. I didn't know they made alien boys like you." Willy shoulder him a little as Dylan side-stepped down the row for the next spot. "Scrawny, I guess. They walk around necked where you come from?"
"NOO!" Dylan snapped up to Willy before he caught the look on his face. He wore a shit-eating grin like he pulled off the heist of the century.
"So you talking again. Good." He caught Dylan looking down again. "I wasn't sure how to tell you how bad you are at this if we wasn't talking."
Willy playfully pushed the boy and managed to confiscate the hoe. He could almost see a smile. He didn't want to press it. Walter was always patient with him.
"Alright I need to finish this up 'fore Papa comes back from the barn. I appreciate you being here, even if you ain't much of a farmer's boy."
Willy managed to finish the rest of the field with a speed and energy he hadn't had before Dylan landed here.
The boys washed up in the bucket outside before entering the house. The smell of cured pork sizzling filled the air. Walter was cooking potato soup and chops on a woodfired stove. He was wearing Mama's apron, just as clean as she always kept it.
"Did you wash up?" Walter shouted over his shoulder.
Willy groaned his response. "Yeees"
"Elbows?"
Willy exchanged a knowing look with Dylan. "Uh. Yes."
He hesitated for just a moment too long, the jig was up.
"Go wash your damn elbows, boy. Disgusting."
Wiley caught Dylan staring off again and dragged him back outside to wash their elbow.
When they returned, three boys sat down at the table in front of the unserved meal. Papa always came back in a little late but the sun was still up. He had time.
On cue, the door creaked its signature squeak before it thumped hard against the wall. It was Papa's calling card. It was the door's fault for being in his way, frankly. Even still, the sound made Willy flinch. He already knew what he was going to say.
"Boys." Albert –Papa– hadn't looked up since Mama passed. Instead, he lumbered across the floor and sat at the head of a square table. His eldest son, Walter sat to his right, Willy to his left. He peaked over the tin pot, through the steam at the strange boy wearing Willy's good shirt.
He didn't speak to Dylan. He didn't bother bringing the matter up with Willy either. Instead, this was a matter for the older boy. "We aint got food fer another mouth, boy."
"Pa, I know bu-"
"We aint-" He paused to listen to the obedience, "got 'nough fer another mouth."
Willy watched Papa clutch his fork.
"Papa?" Willy placed a palm on his father's hand. "He can have my plate tonight."
Papa stared a moment and shone a glimmer of the man he used to be. Willy couldn't understand what happened to his father but he knew kindness was deserted in the year before last.
"You wanna starve, boy? Far be it from me." Papa stood, lifting his plate with anger and picked some pork off the skillet in his fingers. "You cook this right, boy?"
"Cured and cooked. Extra salt, like you like-," Walter paused to watch his father storm out to the porch to eat his food. "It."
The boys exhaled the tension.
Walter turned to his brother. "You ain't starving tonight, numb nuts."
Walter served the two boys as if they were the same but skimped on his own portion when he thought of food for the week.
After all, leftovers had to last until tomorrow. Or did they?14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvleatIqASa
and then Add to home screen.