This wasn’t Duddits, couldn’t be—it was some sickly uncle or older brother, pale and apparently bald beneath his pushed-back Red Sox cap.
Henry opened his mouth—to say what he never knew, because nothing came out. He was thunderstruck, dumbstruck. This wasn’t Duddits, couldn’t be—it was some sickly uncle or older brother, pale and apparently bald beneath his pushed-back Red Sox cap. There was stubble on his cheeks, crusts of blood around his nostrils, and deep dark circles beneath his eyes. And yet—
“Ennie! Ennie! Ennie!”
