Billy Summers

by Stephen King

After his late lunch, he lies down with his hands behind his head and beneath the pillow, feeling the cool that hides there. Which, like youth and beauty, doesn’t last long.

The door to the past is open. He could push it shut, latch and lock it, but he doesn’t want to. Let the wind blow in. It’s cold but it’s fresh, and the room he’s been living in is stuffy.

It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Nick, he thinks on his way back to the yellow house. It’s just that he trusts himself more. Always has, always will.

Sooner or later bad people do bad things, even a kid knows that.

teenagers say anything to hurt when they are hurting.

with summer past and autumn on the come,

Alice puts her hands over her face. “I’m so ashamed.” Billy is honestly perplexed. “Why? You trusted and you were tricked. End of story.”

Except that’s probably not all the truth. Do we ever tell ourselves all of it?

God doesn’t have a plan, He throws pickup sticks.