PRAISE FOR
BLACK CHUCK
“A strange, brutal, heartbreaking, and strangely uplifting novel about lies, love, friendship, courage, and the struggle to overcome guilt.”
—Rob Bittner, Sense and Sensibility and Stories blog
“McDonell has captured the brashness and insecurity of adolescence in this gravel-splattering joyride. Four teenagers attempt to discern what is real from what is not after trauma threatens to rob them all of their futures.”
—Karen Nesbitt, award-winning author of Subject to Change
“A darkly atmospheric story, filled with heartfelt, yet perfectly-flawed characters. I loved it.”
—Ash Parsons, award-winning author of Still Waters
“Black Chuck is easy to get lost in, haunting, hard not to think about. This story is compelling, chillingly real and sad. Timeless, yet contemporary. A pleasure to read.”
—Genevieve Scott, author of Catch My Drift
“A stunning work of prose—poetic and haunting, tender and gritty—this is a remarkable novel.”
—Andrew Smith, Michael L. Printz Honor and Boston Globe-Horn Book Award-winning author
Copyright © 2018 Regan McDonell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
McDonell, Regan, 1974–, author
Black Chuck / Regan McDonell.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-1630-5 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1631-2 (pdf).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1632-9 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8625.D774B53 2018 jC813'.6 C2017-904574-1
C2017-904575-X
First Published in the United States, 2018
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017949715
Summary: In this gritty young adult novel, Réal struggles with his guilt over a friend’s violent death and his feelings for the dead boy’s pregnant girlfriend.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover images by Getty Images and Shutterstock.com
Edited by Sarah N. Harvey
Design by Rachel Page
Author photo by Guy Glover
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
www.orcabook.com
21 20 19 18 • 4 3 2 1
For the boys I didn’t love And the one I did
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CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
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12
13
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35
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AN EXCERPT FROM RODENT
ONE
1
R
Réal hunched into his old jean jacket, running a cut lip between his teeth and not looking anyone in the eye. Beside him, Alex Janes flicked a silver coin between his knuckles. Eyes pinned to his dirty boots, jaw set so hard it could crack, Alex looked like he could barely keep his lid on. Like he was about to explode. Across the sidewalk, Sunny kicked her heel against a broken chain-link fence, talking with a speed that killed any chance of getting a word in.
Compared to his friends, Ré felt weirdly quiet, weirdly still—even for him.
Past Sunny, on the other side of the chain link, mist rose off North Cold Water Collegiate’s pretty green football field. It was a bright, sunny, almost-summer morning just like any other, and Ré was thinking, Nothing. Nothing on earth gonna make this day go easy.
Sunny shook her long black hair. “I’m not telling her. Hells no,” she said. She’d tossed her backpack in the dust at her feet and was staring down the hill with red, swollen eyes. As usual, it was all about her.
“And anyway,” she went on, “someone for sure went over there last night, right? I mean, one of her other friends—she has other friends, right? God, I can’t fucking believe this. I seriously can’t be the one to tell her—”
Réal closed his eyes and pressed his back teeth together, the sound of her voice starting to grate. “Jesus,” he snarled. “I’ll tell her. Just shut up already.”
Sunny narrowed her eyes on him. “Nice,” she said. “First words you’ve spoken all day. Glad you decided to join us, dickhead.”
He stared her down, mouth closed, and she just stared back, stone cold.
“She’s here,” Alex said. He’d stopped rolling the coin and rubbed his thumb across its corrugated edge.
Down the long hill, Evie Hawley emerged from the mess of yellow buses and kids fighting for parking. Réal could see the big black headphones covering her ears, dark hair like a curtain over her eyes. As she got closer, he saw that dreamy, other-planet look pasted to her face. As if she didn’t already know. As if no one had told her last night, when the kids had found it. Sunny’s words echoed in his head. Somebody got to her before now. We can’t be the first—
Sunny pounced on Evie, yanking the headphones off.
“Hey, wha—” Evie pulled back.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Sunny blurted out.
As Evie glanced at each of them, Réal looked away quick. He swallowed. She didn’t know. She really didn’t know. “Câlisse,” he swore under his breath.
Evie shook Sunny off and pulled her backpack from her shoulder, stuffing her headphones into the front pocket. “What’s going on?”
Sunny’s eyes widened. “Didn’t your mom tell you?”
“Mom’s on graveyard,” Evie said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and scanning them all again. “I haven’t seen her in a week.”
Sunny turned to Réal, and he felt something dark and poisonous whirl up in his gut. Goddammit, Sunny, he thought, flashing her
