THE KING ATLASBetaA WORLD BETWEEN STORIESSingle-book characters / Named cast
9 named character entries recorded in Willie the Weirdo. Open a snippet for the book’s wording.
These entries belong to this story; they do not establish matches to characters in other books. Read about this work and its recorded connections.
This is a growing catalog, not a claim that every character has been found.
“He might as well be. Grampa James and Gramma Elise adopted your father when he was just a baby. It’s not like Dad grew up in an orphanage and got adopted at twelve, or something.” “Dad says Grampa hardly ever talked to him after Gramma Elise died.
Possible aliases: James, James Fiedler
James Jonas Fiedler—aka Grandfather, aka Grampa, aka the old boy—came out of his room (called his den by Sharon, his lair by Richard) for meals, and sometimes he would sit on the back porch and smoke a cigarette (three a day), but mostly he stayed in the small back bedroom …
He didn’t wait for Willie to answer. “Pouring rain, boot-sucking mud, men crying like babies. Lee on his horse—” “Traveler.” “Yes, Traveler. His back was to us. He had blood on his hat and the seat of his britches. But not his blood. He was unwounded.
The end of the pole was socked into a little tin cup on his belt. My mate Micah Leblanc made that cup. We were halfway up Cemetery Hill when the boy got hit spang in the throat.” “Tell about the blood!” “His lips parted. His teeth were clenched.
She was Sharon. “But it’s true,” Roxie said. Father said, “I’m sure he gets enough of that at school.” He was Richard. Sometimes—often—the family talked about Willie as if he wasn’t there. Except for the old man at the foot of the table. “Do you get that at school?”
… clouds for an hour or more, but only Roxie would say it out loud. “Willie the Weirdo,” she called him one night at the dinner table while Willie was making (trying to, anyway) a clown face in his mashed potatoes with gravy for eyes. Willie was ten. Roxie was twelve …
Except when Willie stared at them, which made her feel creepy. “Don’t call him that,” Mother said. She was Sharon. “But it’s true,” Roxie said. Father said, “I’m sure he gets enough of that at school.” He was Richard. Sometimes—often—the family talked about Willie as if he wasn’t there.
He didn’t wait for Willie to answer. “Pouring rain, boot-sucking mud, men crying like babies. Lee on his horse—” “Traveler.” “Yes, Traveler. His back was to us. He had blood on his hat and the seat of his britches. But not his blood. He was unwounded.
… Willie’s mom and dad thought their son was strange, with his careful study of dead birds and his collections of dead bugs and the way he might look at drifting clouds for an hour or more, but only Roxie would say it out loud. “Willie the Weirdo,” she called him …