Read Online Untouchable by Scott O'Connor - Free Book Online

got his powers,” Matthew said. “They asked me if he got his powers from God. I told them he got his powers from the army. That he was injected with the Super-Soldier Serum during World War II.” He peeled the comics out of the mud, rubbed the covers and spines clean with his hands. His skin was blacker even than his father’s and mother’s, but his palms and fingertips were lighter, almost pink. “My father didn’t believe a character could get those kinds of powers from the U.S. Government. He said that if Captain America didn’t get his powers from God, then he must have gotten them from the devil. And if that was the case, then there was no place for these books in our house.”
    Matthew flipped through the comics, lingering on some of the more exciting panels, fights and chase scenes. The Kid kept watching the kitchen window, expecting Mr. Crump’s stone face to appear any second, catching them in the act.
    They didn’t talk about what had happened in the locker room. They never talked about the incidents. Incidents had happened before, would happen again. They never talked about Matthew crying in class or other kids telling The Kid that he had bad breath or B.O. It was like if they said it out loud then that would confirm it, it had to be true, the other kids were right. So they never repeated what was said to them, and when one of them was being picked on at their lunch table the other looked away, pretended he didn’t see, didn’t hear. It was important to have at least one person not witness what was going on.
    Matthew was only one spot above The Kid in the eyes of the other kids at school, only one rung above the absolute bottom. Or maybe The Kid was actually one rung above the absolute bottom, which would be Michelle Mustache, who the other kids hated as much as they hated The Kid, but on top of that she was also a girl. Either way, The Kid knew that if he weren’t around, Matthew would be the one with all the incidents. The Kid knew that Matthew knew this as well. They’d been friends for as long as he could remember, but sometimes The Kid wondered if Matthew only stayed friends with him because of this. Because without The Kid it would be Matthew standing there in the locker room looking at his wet clothes.
    Matthew held the comics out for The Kid. “I’m giving them to you to take home for safekeeping.”
    The Kid reached for the comics, but Matthew held them back, fixed The Kid with a serious look.
    “But only on one condition,” he said. “That I can come over to your house and look at them any time I want.”
    That sounded reasonable. The Kid nodded in agreement.
    “You’ve got to promise officially,” Matthew said.
    The Kid opened his notebook to a blank page, wrote quickly across the top.
    I promise .
    Matthew read the line, looked back at the covers of the comics. He finally nodded, handed the stack to The Kid. The Kid slid the comics under the waistband of his pants, tucked his shirt in over the tops.
    “You should write down where I’d hidden the comics,” Matthew said. “So you’ll know where to hide them again if you need to.”
    The Kid opened his notebook, wrote, Under a garbage can on the next blank line.
    They pulled the garbage bin back into place and snuck back around to the front door, into the soft, carpeted calm of the house.
    Matthew’s father sat in his armchair in the living room, reading the newspaper. Mr. Crump was a big bald man, an accountant for an insurance company downtown. The Kid had never seen him without a dark suit and tie, even on weekends. Matthew had a couple of dark suits, too, hanging upstairs in his bedroom closet. He wore a suit and tie to church, to bible meetings. He also wore these suits when he and his parents went out in the mornings and knocked on people’s doors, told them about their church, invited them to come along.
    The living room was ringed with high wooden shelves packed with encyclopedias and bibles and other religious volumes.