Evangeline Read Online Free Page A

older, and that much stronger, than everyone else in school. 
    He stood six feet four inches tall and stoop-shouldered, with his head thrown forward, his arms covered with scars and a body corded in muscle from his acne-pocked neck to the tops of his leather jackboots.  Uneven, home-barbered hair framed a lean face and alert green eyes, like a predatory animal.  But it was Billy’s smile that people remembered most-- those thin lips curled into a contemptuous sneer for the world and everyone in it.
    On Friday nights in the fall, The Asshole brought his sweet disposition to the football field where, as middle linebacker for the Willowdale Buffalos, he was given carte-blanche to injure human beings without fear of incarceration.  Rumor had it that Nebraska State University in Lincoln wanted him for their football program should he ever graduate.  Cornhusker football was practically a religion in Nebraska, and Lincoln was the sports mecca every local jock aspired to.  But Billy had no interest in higher education or playing football for the Cornhuskers.  He was perfectly content spending the rest of his days in Holt County, making life miserable for anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. 
    Most unfortunate of all was Angeline, The Asshole’s favorite target.  Since freshman year, he’d hunted my poor sister through the halls like a ravenous lion stalks the weakest in the herd.  Of course she wasn’t the only female that boy preyed upon.  Some girls he forced against lockers and fondled, others were pinned spread-eagled to the floor and dry-humped.  Billy Quinn’s victims seldom struggled, and they never complained.  To do so would only have invited more attention… and even worse punishment. 
    When it came to my sister, though, The Asshole took a more insidious approach.  Angeline was never physically manhandled like the other girls.  Instead he mentally wore her down--day after day, month after month and year after year--until the pitiable thing was reduced to a wretched little mouse scurrying along the corridor walls, desperate to pass unnoticed. 
    Over time Angeline became outcast… a social pariah.  To avoid Billy Quinn you steered clear of the ugly, unpopular girl.  Even Sister’s childhood friend, Stephanie Eberhart, whose family lived on the property catty-corner to the Gottschalk farm, had severed their relationship.  In fact, the last time anyone actually talked to Angeline was the fall of sophomore year when Steph took Sister aside and asked her to please stop talking to her.
    Of course the bleeding hearts of the world will wring their hands and offer up all kinds of excuses for Billy Quinn’s anti-social behavior.  They’ll point to an unhappy childhood, blame the dysfunctional family or lament the fact that he was never breast fed as a baby.  In The Asshole’s case, it was probably all three.  The boy was raised in Mineola, a village just west of Hainesville, in a public eyesore carpeted with rancid garbage, maggots and dog shit.  Abby Quinn had raised five sons in that fetid dump, and rumor had it that each was conceived by a different father.  To support her methamphetamine addiction, any man with fifty bucks in his pocket could drop in and knock boots with Mrs. Quinn.
    Now her oldest boy was behind bars for a bank robbery near the Kansas border and the two that followed were meth-addled basket cases like their mother.  Billy was next, followed by the youngest of the litter, Caleb, who sometimes roamed with his brother’s pack without showing much enthusiasm. 
    Yes, life had kicked poor Billy in the teeth… and to all you apologists out there, all I can say is…
    Boo-fucking-hoo! 
    Across this great planet there are millions born into hard luck who reject the blame game and choose to play well with others.  The Asshole’s choice, on the other hand, was to drag the world down into the cesspool of his miserable company.  Like it or not, Billy wanted you to feel his