“A sissy boy gets a sissy name,” he’d declared. Usually right before he threw something at Thomas’s head.
“Your mother loves you,” Pastor assured. “She stood by you, even when it got rough. Hell, she’d stand by you even now if she knew what people have been saying.”
“What was that?” All thoughts of his own troubles disappeared. “What are they saying?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You said they’re talking.” Everything rushed down to this moment, this place. He didn’t even feel the heat anymore. His skin was too busy prickling in righteous anger. “Talking about what?”
Pastor looked like a man who wished he could be anywhere but where he stood. “Stupid stuff. You know what this town’s like. Every time you come back, you’re everybody’s favorite topic.” Bitterness laced his tone. “I’ve done everything short of telling people they’re going to hell for being such narrow-minded bigots, but they never listen. They don’t like different here.”