The Color of Darkness COMPLETE NOVEL

Holes

"Dammit, Puck," she growled. She handed me a cigarette and I sighed. Nova was going to kill me some day--literally. "You read that last part, right?"

"Yeah," I said, lighting up and hoping this one went better than the last one. "What, you don't want to see your dad?"

"It's not that, it's just..." She trailed off, taking a deep drag and making a face.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, Puck. Just shut up and smoke with me."

For once, I didn't actually feel like listening to her. "You made me start sorting out my shit," I said pointedly. "I think you should take your own advice." Nova looked at me for a long moment before sighing and plopping down on the couch next to me.

"I know, I know. It's just... family, you know?" She blew out a forceful stream of smoke before smiling weakly at me.

"Hey, if I actually go, will you go with me?"

It only took me a moment to consider; for one, Nova was in need and I, of course, was going to help her as usual. Furthermore, if I had to sit through "anti-Thanksgiving" with my dad—where we ate frozen TV dinners and watched the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special—one more time, I was seriously considering asking Rick to back over me with his truck.

"Sure, I'll come with you. It couldn't be that bad, right?"

As it turned out, it actually could be that bad.

Thanksgiving day, Nova's aunt dropped us off at the door of an ancient-looking one story ranch house in Morgan county, about a ninety-minute drive from Dale. Since she didn't even need directions (and didn't stick around for more than thirty seconds after we exited the car) I guessed that they had made this journey before, probably several times. We hadn't even made it to the front door when a Rottweiler the size of a lion busted out of the screen door and instantly flattened me against the gravel driveway, licking me mercilessly and leaving long, gooey strings of saliva all over my face and the front of the collared shirt Nova had insisted I wear.

Nova had even put on a dress--yes, an actual dress, with leggings and everything--and put her hair up in a neat ponytail for the occasion.

"RONALD-GODDAMN-REAGAN, GIT THE HELL OFF TH' GUESTS!!!"

The scariest, fieriest woman I had ever laid my eyes on burst out the front door wielding a flour-spattered rolling pin. She looked to be in her mid-forties, with a blaze of curly red hair pouring out of her skull in an untamable mass. The dog took off around the other side of the house with a terrified whine and I picked myself up out of the dirt, trying to clean my face off with my sleeves.

"Hi, I'm Natalie's aunt, Claudia. You must be Andy!" She stuck her hand out warmly. When I reached out to shake it, she pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you could make it! We've heard so much about you!" She ushered us in the front door and down a long hallway after giving Nova a huge hug, too. We could hear the racket of pots and pans and what sounded like the entire roster of a football team engaged in what must have been an animated discussion just ahead of us.

"Heard so much about me?" I raised my eyes at Nova with questioning grin.

"Oh, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes and punching me softly in the shoulder.

We rounded the corner and ran smack into the biggest, scruffiest, oddest, most rambunctious group of rednecks I had ever encountered in my short life. Introductions were a whirlwind of names like "Cletus" and "Jim-Bob," the smell of cigarettes and chew tobacco, and missing teeth. Several of the bigger cousins and uncles looked me up and down in a way that made me break into cold sweats, and an ancient old guy I took to be Nova's grandfather actually put a hand on the grip of the revolver on his hip as she introduced him (Grampa Skeeter, she called him--seriously). In a flash, I was commissioned into helping clean two massive turkeys with a bear of a man sporting a wild beard and a John Deere hat.