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couldn't help that. He walked on a little way, thinking thinking about it. He wondered suddenly if he were going "bad." That's what Hane had done. Hane played pool and smoked cigarets and sneaked in at twelve-thirty and boy he thought he was something. "There's nothing you can do about," their grandmother had told their father, "he's at that age." What age? Ruller wondered. I'm eleven, he thought. That's pretty young. Hane hadn't started until he was fifteen. I guess it's worse in me, he thought. He wondered would he fight it. Their grandmother had talked to Hane and told him the only way to conquer the devil was to fight him--if he didn't, he couldn't be her boy anymore--Ruller sat down on a stump--and she said she'd give him one more chance, did he want it? and he yelled at her, no! and would she leave him alone? and she told him, well, she loved him even if he didn't love her and he was her boy anyway and so was Ruller. Oh no I ain't Ruller thought quickly. Oh no. she's not pinning any of that stuff on me.
Boy, he could shock the pants off her. He could make her teeth fall in her soup. He started giggling. The next time she asked him if he wanted to play a game of Parcheesi, he'd say, hellno, goddammit, didn't she know any good games? Get out her goddam cards and he'd show her a few. He rolled over on the ground, choking with laughter.
