Big Two-Hearted River

Another attempt at a short story to submit to the October competition. Abandoned after thirty minutes.

A month after his thirteenth birthday he was caught trying to steal a single flathead screwdriver from the general store. His mother was working a double shift that evening and it was his step-father that had been contacted. Neither spoke on the ride home.

He sat on his bed, head down, with his hands between his thighs and did not move until he heard his step-father calling him, “Cody.” His step-father called.
Cody followed the voice down the shifting stairs and into the basement.
“Take off ’ur shirt.”
Cody didn’t respond.
“Take hit off Goddamit.”
Cody removed his shirt and held it to his stomach.
“Giv’ hit ‘ere.”
Cody’s jaw began to shake.
“Goddamit,” his step-father grabbed the shirt from the boy’s hands and replaced it with a pair of large boxing gloves. “Put’em on. Look a‘ me. See how I do hit. Do like me.”
Cody watched his step-father. He put on one glove and tightened it with his free hand and then the other tightening it with his teeth.

The next morning Cody told his mother that he had gotten into a fight with some of the older kids from school; he would later retell this story to a Doctor after him and two other boys were brought home by police officers for throwing rocks through Mr. Daniels livingroom window.

On his sixteenth birthday, after the cake was eaten and the gifts were unwrapped his step-father handed him a beer, "Ya man now."
Cody took one of the napkins from the table and wrapped it around the bottle.
"Scar'd of a lil' wat'r," his step-father said. "You make a fool yo' self. Tha's fine, tha's fine. These yo' friends they know. Don' know wha' I know, but they know. Tha's fine. But lis' here. You make a fool yo' self, but not me. Yo' a man now and you drink a beer like yo' damn mama."
"I didn't want it to slip."
"Did you see me drop mines? No you didn't, no you didn't. I'll tell you why too, because I'ma man. See these hands. Men hands. Look. Look. I ain' yo' daddy, but I fin to sho' you how t' be a man. Goin' sho' ya how a man drink. Firs' ya nee' t' pu' down tha' tissue, unless ya 'bout t' wipe yo' ***. Now ya need to sto' sippin' the **** like it's a hard drink."
Cody had drank slowly, but this wasn't his first drink. He had his first drink two years earlier at a friends house when they located a decantor filled with scotch while looking for playing cards.
"Fill yo throat wit hit. Ther' ya go, ther' ya go."
Cody finished the drink quickly, but his step-father didn't offer another.