Fiction | April 24, 2018
Coach Schwartz
Andrew De Silva
He’d put on a little weight, yes, but this was always going to be a sugar-cereal household. Any single uncle guardian who didn’t stock the cabinets with unhealthy shit was a Puritan and didn’t understand his circumstances. Ryan scooped the milk from the bottom of his bowl, an odd sodden fragment of Frosted Flake floating across the spoon. Thump stayed evergreen skinny anyway. Like sometimes he worried that people would call the authorities on him.
This story is not currently available online.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
Wait for Me
Every day, I stepped off the school bus on Flat Run Road, and every day, on the other side of the fence, Judy Puckett sat astride a four-wheeler, gunning the… read more
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
Triumph
It was harder than she expected. Some of the patients at the women’s clinic refused to give Intisar their full medical history, as though it were gossip she might turn… read more
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
On the Western Bride
I’d been pinheading on a fishing boat called the Western Bride—scrubbing and prepping so I could fish for free—and that winter I’d made deckhand. This was when I was living… read more