S.E. Hinton Classic Collection by S. E. Hinton

Author:S. E. Hinton [Hinton, S. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Literary, Retail, Social Issues
ISBN: 9781626815223
Google: Hp3NBAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-10-14T04:00:00+00:00

Stan was his stepfather. That didn’t bother him. A lot of kids had stepfathers—in fact, he only knew three guys who had the same father they’d started out with. Stan had slapped Mom around a couple of times—that had bothered Travis when he was younger, but he liked to think it didn’t bother him so much now. She could leave. Anytime. A lot of women worked. She wanted to put up with that garbage, she could. And not only did she put up with it, she kept making excuses for him. Like: “It was my fault, I shouldn’t have been nagging. He is a good provider.”

Provide, hell. Food on the table wasn’t exactly living in luxury. Travis didn’t think he wanted much, material stuff, anyway. Maybe a car someday, and all the paperback books he wanted, and tapes, tons of tapes until he could play tapes all night for a year and never hear the same thing twice unless he wanted; that wasn’t a whole awful lot to want, really, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone to provide it. He wouldn’t let anyone provide it, a matter of fact. People give you something, then you owe them. Every time Stan bought Mom something, like an electric skillet or a new coat, just some simple little thing like you’d expect a guy to get for his wife, he’d beat her over the head with it. Not literally. But verbally. Like “I got you this and this and you owe me.”

Getting beaten up verbally was just as bad as physically, only it was easier to hide the scars. Travis would never owe anybody anything. If he wanted something, he’d get it on his own.

Besides, it bugged the hell out of Stan that Travis never asked for anything. But asking for something put Stan in control, so Travis either got it on his own or he went without. He washed cars. He mowed lawns. He was the best poker player in the school. He worked at the vet’s on Saturdays, or he had until he got fired for coming in late. Travis was hung over a lot on Saturdays.

But he got his own music and his own books and he could always take anything Stan dished out and walk off.

It was really weird to think he’d almost liked Stan once. When he was ten and Stan first started coming around—he’d been dumb enough at first to almost like him.

Just because he’d tossed a football around with him a couple of times, and promised to take him hunting. He cringed, now, to think how little he’d minded Mom marrying that creep, how he’d even halfway thought it was a good idea.

Stan was Mom’s husband but he sure wasn’t his dad; and he sure as hell wasn’t his boss, and the older he got, the more Stan tried to … own him, Travis thought. That was the only word for it. Own him and try to make him sit up and beg. Well, Travis wasn’t jumping through hoops for anyone.

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