CHAPTER ONE, TASK TWO: sympathy for the devil (or, Kevin's official alibi)
“Never for one minute have I taken you for reality,” Ivan cried with a sort of fury. “You are a lie, you are my illness, you are a phantom. It's only that I don't know how to destroy you and I see I must suffer for a time. You are my hallucination. You are the incarnation of myself, but only of one side of me ... of my thoughts and feelings, but only the nastiest and stupidest of them. From that point of view you might be of interest to me, if only I had time to waste on you—”
Kevin had promised himself he’d finish The Brothers Karamazov before the winter, or at least before the first snow settled in Devil’s Knot. It was both a romantic notion and a pragmatic one: there’s no point reading about freezing to death in the middle of a Midwestern summer heatwave, when the idea of a winter storm's about as foreign as an alien planet. On the flipside, reading Russian lit in the throes of a Michigan winter, when just getting his ass to school on time is a misery in itself-- it's just not practical. Life’s too fucking depressing as it is; no need to get the Russians involved.
On the afternoon of the younger Goode's disappearance, Kevin's plodding his way through another chapter about Ivan, the middle son (and resident atheist), who at the moment is mid-conversation with the Devil (possibly related to his current affliction with "brain fever".) As it turns out, the devil is an atheist. He’s also come down with a bad case of rheumatism. “I put on fleshly form, and I take the consequences.” Kevin can sympathize.
A few hours in and his attention is waning; he knows because he catches himself eyeing the spine to check how much book is left. He rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling instead. Nothing else in the house moves, not to breathe or stretch. Kelly and his parents have left, giving him an entire uninterrupted afternoon of peace and quiet, which is probably what he wants. He's always trying to get some space, right? Well, here it is. In the unfamiliar quiet he can almost believe he’s the last thing left alive in the world. All it would take to break the illusion would be turning his head to look out the window, see the houses beyond and their stirring curtains. Instead he falls asleep there, not awake to witness the sun setting, or the town coming to frenzied life. He doesn’t stir again until his parents come home and call him down to deliver the news.
“Above all things I want to behave like a gentleman, and be viewed as such,” said the Devil. “I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming.”