Waste

Начало книги

The drill whirred twice before the battery died.

“Useless. Mastercraft ain’t worth shit. Gimme DeWalt any day.”

The two figures loomed over the body in the middle of the woods. Their shadows hid amongst the trees. Their beards were full of sweat and old smoke. One leaned down and slapped the body across the face.

“Connor, you dumb shit, open your eyes. Connor!”

Connor Condon always hated his name. He hated the concussive force of those two C’s crashing out of his mother’s mouth every time she was pissed, back when they’d lived in his grandmother’s apartment. The sound chased him from room to room, rattling the dusty shelves and weaving its way through porcelain bears to find him hiding under the pullout couch he shared with his mother.

“We need you to wake up, and don’t you dare puke again.”

It wasn’t until sixth grade that Connor’s name truly became a curse in the outside world. The new bus driver, Marlene, believed she had to take attendance. Her tongue seemed far too big for her mouth when she drawled out his name through pierced lips.

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