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"Willie Van Allen's arm was gone. The truck that hit him escaped, silver and purring, and it swept up a gust that was almost refreshing. In the hazy afterburn he lay, his face blank as sand, white as foam.
Willie's arm, or what was left of it, was tamped into the dirt, now part of the old tar road along with stones and bugs and beer cans and scrub-grass. There was blood, but it had mixed with dirt, become mud. There was bone, too, but the bone dove beneath the mud like a tree root."
This book foll ...more
Willie's arm, or what was left of it, was tamped into the dirt, now part of the old tar road along with stones and bugs and beer cans and scrub-grass. There was blood, but it had mixed with dirt, become mud. There was bone, too, but the bone dove beneath the mud like a tree root."
This book foll ...more
Feb 27, 2009
Rachel
marked it as to-read
Mar 05, 2010
Melissa
marked it as to-read
Aug 23, 2016
Donalyn
marked it as to-read
