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innocent-eyed, "and all that long floppy blond hair soft about his face."
    And the smile, Ben thought to himself, a smile that, while shy and uncertain, was a glimpse of the grin Zach could have if he tried. It was so sad to see this boy so very wary and nervous, almost like a kicked dog.
    "I wasn't looking," he denied quickly as his brat of a sister smirked again.
    "I gotta go straight back, Mom. Heggerty said the fence is down at the upper quarter, and Jeremiah is swearing the unbranded mixed cattle are his and not Heggerty's."
    "Will you be back for dinner, Ben? Jamie is here for twelve."
    "I'll be here, Mom, promise, and…" He indicated the upstairs with a movement of his head. "If you need me for anything…"
    "Go, Officer Hamilton." His mother smiled. "Go 48
    The Christmas Throwaway
    RJ Scott

    keep the peace."

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    The Christmas Throwaway
    RJ Scott

Chapter 4
    Zach didn't move in the bed, not one inch. He had gotten used to not rolling over, of perching precariously on the edge of benches, or of sleeping upright on steps. Now his sleep was marked by its lack of movement, the quilt tidy and neat around him. It had been a long journey from Richmond to here, wherever here was: bus rides and train rides as far as his money, what little there was, could take him, until he had gotten off the train in this small town that he didn't even know the name of.
    It was the polar opposite to his suburban hometown.
    A convenience store, a square, three sets of traffic lights, and a school that was maybe a quarter the size of the one he had attended until four years ago. It was the oddest sensation when he had walked back here with the cop, his skin prickling with the need to run at the same time he realized he had nowhere to run to.
    He'd avoided personal conversation with anyone
    until the cop yesterday. He had managed to avoid seeing anyone by literally hiding in the graveyard until the Christmas Eve worshippers left the Church with laughs, Christmas secrets, shouts, family, and everything he didn't have. His Christmases had certainly not been about 50
    The Christmas Throwaway
    RJ Scott

    laughter and gifts. They had centered on what people thought. Dressed in a suit that was too tight, too short, too
    —just not right— seated next to his dad wearing his uniform, medals on his chest. He had been his parents' first child, the one who was academically so gifted, but athletically not quite up to his dad's standards. His dad would say things like he would be 'okay' if only he learned how to play football, or basketball, or anything really.
    He was his father's great hope. His dad was an ex-special forces sergeant who wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and enter the service of his country. He never listened when Zach said he wanted to be a writer and would tell Zach and everyone else exactly what Zach was going to do with his life. That tendency was never more prevalent than at Christmas, when the family unit was shown off at their annual visit to church. This is my son. He has plans to follow me into the army, and yes, we are so proud.
    He opened his eyes carefully. There was none of the usual disorientation of waking to sirens and other discordant noise, just the peace of a quiet house and the warmth of layers of blanket and sheet. He sat up carefully, his neck tight and his eyes scratchy with lack of sleep, wondering what he was supposed to do next, and how easily he could get away.

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    The Christmas Throwaway
    RJ Scott

    As he moved he realized that something was lying
    heavy on his feet, and he saw jeans, a shirt and a sweater, something red, and assumed they were for him. He was slightly unnerved that someone, Ben he guessed, had crept into his room without him waking. That was so this very side of wrong. He shouldn't be letting his guard down like that, and he scrambled up and out of bed to pull on the clothes left for him.
    There were jeans that were long enough, shirts that were loose on him and —jeez— that