A Twist of Hate by Crystal Hubbard

Author:Crystal Hubbard [Hubbard, Crystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

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Word of Michael’s expulsion zoomed through Prescott’s halls on the fleet feet of whispers and rumors. “I’m just glad it’s over,” Courtney said after bringing the news to Mr. Cleese’s office. “Chrissie said Michael did something to her cat yesterday after school. She thinks it’s because he was made she broke up with him.”

“His poor mother,” Mr. Cleese said. “She seems rather put upon.”

“She is,” Camden said. “Michael has always treated her like an employee instead of a parent. He and his dad are always yelling at each other.”

“If the Littlefields are so upstanding, where did Michael acquire his racist, misogynistic, and elitist attitudes?” asked Mr. Cleese. “Apples and trees…”

“The apple fell and skipped a generation in Michael’s case,” said Brian. “He gets that stuff from his grandfather on his dad’s side. Remember when we went to his lake house, Cam?”

“Remember?” Camden said. “I had nightmares about it for weeks.”

“We were in sixth grade when Michael invited us to spend a weekend at his grandfather’s lake house in the Ozarks,” Brian began. “Mr. Littlefield didn’t want us to go but Michael whined and pitched such fit, his mom gave in and said we could. I wished I’d stayed home the minute Virrell Littlefield picked us up at Michael’s house. He’s the scariest old man I’ve ever met. He drove a rusty old truck that had door handles in the shape of a woman’s naked torso. He wore a strappy T-shirt and dingy work pants, and his huge belly hung over his waistband like a bag of dough. Cam, remember how he fastened his belt underneath that giant gut?”

“He smoked the worst cigars,” Camden said. “When Brian’s dad picked us up, he thought we’d been sprayed by a skunk.”

“On the dashboard of that stinking truck, he had a ceramic ashtray in the shape of a naked woman lying on her back with her knees up, gripping her ankles,” Brian said. “You can guess where the lit end of the cigar went, and every time he ashed it, he’d say, ‘Here comes Big Daddy!’ The worst was when we got to the lake house.”

“Actually, lake hut would be a better description of the place,” Camden said. “Before the trip, Michael made out like it was some kind of rustic mansion. It was a one-bedroom shack with an outhouse. The kitchen, dining room, living room, and kitchen were all one room. The cellar was bigger than the whole upstairs.”

“Once we got there, Mike admitted that he’d never been there before,” Brian said. He picked up the tale. “Mrs. Littlefield told us we weren’t to go into the cellar, so, of course, we couldn’t wait to see what all the mystery was about. I think that’s why Michael invited us along that weekend. He was fascinated by his grandfather but scared of him too.”

“Mr. Littlefield never spoke about his father, before or after that,” Camden said.

“He always changed the subject when Mike would bring him up,” Brian recalled. “We found out why when Michael’s grandfather said we could play darts in the cellar.

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