Excerpt from The Bully of Order by Brian Hart, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Say good­bye," Mother said.

"Bye."

"Bye," the girl said to me.

We heard the whistle and everybody hurried but we were too late. I could see Zeb and his mother at the stern waving to us. Everybody was waving. We waved back because what else was there to do and watched them until they were gone. The water boiled white and the wake sloshed out in a V and rolled white­-edged a few times and then went to waves and then healed completely to blue water. The smoke from the stack caught the wind and was gone, like steam in a warming room. People said it'd be an hour for the next one to come. Mother and I found a good stump out of the wind to sit on and wait. The boy and the girl and their keepers stayed on the other side of the crowd from us. I didn't see them again until we got to town. The clouds rolled in and blocked all of the sun.

While we were filing up the plank the rain started again and everybody grumbled, but when I looked back at my mother, she was smiling. We found our spot and she tucked me in against her side and we were off. I slept and missed seeing everything again.

Father was at the docks when we arrived. He was falling-­down drunk and covered in mud. He'd lost his hat. We couldn't do anything with him. He tried to hug me and knocked me over and I had to fight my way out of his arms. Mother pushed him back and was embarrassed, and the women she'd been speaking with when we docked looked away. The girl and the boy, Teresa and Oliver, went by and stared, and my face burned with shame. It was Mr. Tartan that hauled my father to his feet and dragged him up the mole to the Sailor's Union. We waited outside and when Mr. Tartan returned he took Mother aside and spoke to her. He touched her shoulder and bowed slightly and went back inside.

"We're going home."

"What about—"

"He'll stay here. Mr. Tartan has given him a bed for the night."

"The fireworks will start soon."

"We'll be able to see them on our way. From the water. You'll see."

She took my hand, and we walked the crowded streets toward the wharf. There were stages set up and music was being played and there were jug­glers and a man on a unicycle. I watched a family of Indians walking up the hill into the logged forest until they disappeared into the slash. A man rode by us with his eyes closed and fell off his horse and another horseman ran him over. Mother didn't let me stop, not once, and soon we were back on the ferry that would take us home. The deckhands' uniforms had lost their luster, and they all looked tired. They lit the lights on deck and we headed out in the gloom of the evening. We'd left the celebration behind.

My mother turned to me and held me by the shoulders. "I don't want you to ever feel like you're responsible for your father."

I nodded, but I didn't understand.

"He did that to himself. He doesn't do it to hurt us. He does it because he's no self ­respect. That isn't your fault."

"Will he come home tomorrow?"

"I doubt it."

"He peed himself."

She stopped rubbing my shoulders and held me still. "I need you to understand something," she said. "There are choices you'll make that will determine where you end up. Often you'll make bad decisions and regret them. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Don't lie to me. Don't ever lie to me." I could feel her hands shaking, and her eyes were filling with tears.

"I'm not lying." But I was. She wanted me to, she'd cry if I didn't.

"No matter what happens, where you are," she said, "you get to choose how you act. In the end that might be all the choice you'll ever get, but it's a lot. It's more than most people can handle." She hugged me and held me close, and I could feel the ferry's engine all through my feet and into my legs.

Excerpted from The Bully of Order by Brian Hart. Copyright © 2014 by Brian Hart. Excerpted by permission of Harper. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.