[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

bus? Or how Ronny used to squ-e-eze yo-ur& well, yo-ur tits, un-til you
cri-ed?"
"I don't ha-ve tits," Do-ug sa-id. "And I cri-ed be-ca-use it hurt. And
no, I ha-ven't for-got-ten abo-ut any of tho-se things. How co-uld I?"
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Exactly. So why worry abo-ut them?"
"I don't know. I just do."
"Those guys are jerks. They pic-ked on you cons-tantly."
"Yeah, they're jerks, but that do-esn't me-an I want so-me crazy guy to
kid-nap them and do stuff to them. That's wrong, man. No-body de-ser-ves
that."
They star-ted wal-king aga-in. The wet grass so-aked thro-ugh the-ir
sne-akers. They pas-sed by Randy Gra-co' s gra-pe-vi-nes, which had be-en
flat-te-ned by the storm. To the-ir right, at the top of the hill, the Wahl 's
cherry tree was spilt in half, the un-for-tu-na-te vic-tim of a light-ning
stri-ke.
"I just ho-pe they co-me ho-me sa-fe." Do-ug step-ped over the dro-oping
vi-nes. "That's all I'm sa-ying."
"They de-ser-ve wha-te-ver hap-pens to them," Timmy sa-id. "Ser-ves them
right. I don't ca-re."
"Yes you do," Do-ug sa-id. "You're just pis-sed off right now."
"So? I'm se-ri-o-us. Why sho-uld I ca-re what hap-pens to tho-se
as-sho-les?"
"You ca-red abo-ut Catc-her when Barry star-ted be-ating on him, and he
was just as me-an to us as Ronny and tho-se guys we-re."
"Catcher didn't know any bet-ter. He's just a dog, and he was just do-ing
what all Do-ber-mans do. They're at-tack dogs. It's ins-tinct."
"Not ne-ces-sa-rily. The guy that li-ves next do-or to me used to ha-ve a
Do-ber-man, and it was ni-ce, be-ca-use he'd tra-ined it to be ni-ce. Catc-her
was me-an be-ca-use Mr. Saw-yer didn' t te-ach him any dif-fe-rent."
"So Ronny, Jason, and Ste-ve's pa-rents ta-ught them to be as-sho-les?"
"Maybe." Do-ug pa-used, cho-osing his words ca-re-ful-ly. "Lo-ok, with
everyt-hing I told you last night, I know I' ve got prob-lems. But when Barry
star-ted kic-king Catc-her the ot-her day, who did he re-mind you of?"
He shrug-ged, and then mumb-led, "His fat-her." Timmy won-de-red how his
fri-end co-uld be so ni-ce, how he co-uld ke-ep such a po-si-ti-ve at-ti-tu-de
with all that had hap-pe-ned to him. But even so, Do-ug was right. He was
abo-ut to ad-mit that he 'd be-en thin-king the sa-me thing, that may-be
grown-ups we-re the re-al mons-ters, when they re-ac-hed Barry' s ho-use.
Timmy de-ci-ded to wa-it un-til la-ter.
They slowly ap-pro-ac-hed the front do-or. The win-dow sha-des we-re still
clo-sed, and the ho-use lo-oked dark.
"Go ahe-ad," Do-ug whis-pe-red. "Knock."
"You knock. It's yo-ur turn. I knoc-ked last ti-me."
Doug rap-ped on the do-or twi-ce. They he-ard shuf-fling so-unds in-si-de.
Then the do-or ope-ned, the rusty hin-ges squ-e-aking. Mrs. Smelt-zer pe-ered
out at them thro-ugh one go-od eye. The ot-her one was swol-len shut and
lo-oked black and purp-le. Timmy and Do-ug gas-ped in surp-ri-se, but she just
smi-led.
"Hi, boys."
Timmy tho-ught she so-un-ded sad-and may-be a lit-tle re-li-eved as well.
"Um, hi Mrs. Smelt-zer. Is Barry ho-me?"
She nod-ded to-ward the ce-me-tery. When she til-ted her he-ad, Timmy
no-ti-ced that anot-her pa-ir of new ear-rings spark-led in her ears.
"He's out hel-ping his dad. You might not want to go over the-re this
mor-ning, tho-ugh."
"Why not?" Timmy sta-red at her black eye.
"Well, Mr. Smelt-zer didn't get much sle-ep last night. He was out la-te.
He's a lit-tle grumpy."
Neither of them rep-li-ed. Do-ug sta-red at his fe-et. Timmy co-uldn't
lo-ok away.
"You okay, Timmy?"
Am I okay? he tho-ught. You're the one with the black eye, lady.
"Yeah, I'm fi-ne. Didn't sle-ep much last night, eit-her. The storm kept
me awa-ke."
Page 75
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
She smi-led at them aga-in. "Well, I'll tell Barry that you stop-ped by."
"Thanks, Mrs. Smelt-zer."
She clo-sed the do-or, and they tur-ned away and star-ted back down the
si-de-walk.
"Jesus," Timmy whis-pe-red. "Did you see that shi-ner?"
"See it? How co-uld I miss it? The who-le si-de of her fa-ce is swol-len
up. What do we do?"
Timmy sig-hed. "Not-hing we can do, ex-cept may-be tell my pa-rents, and
if we do that, Barry might get pis-sed at us, or they might say we can' t hang
out with him any-mo-re. Let 's just not think abo-ut it. We'll go find Barry.
Ma-ke su-re he's okay. If he do-esn't ha-ve to work, then may-be we can
exp-lo-re the tun-nel to-day af-ter all. If not, tKen we'll just hang aro-und
in-si-de the Du-go-ut un-til he' s fi-nis-hed."
"Maybe we bet-ter not. Mrs. Smelt-zer sa-id Barry's dad was in a bad
mo-od. The way her fa-ce lo-oked, I'd say she was right."
"Screw him. I'm in a bad mo-od, too."
He cros-sed the ro-ad. Do-ug fol-lo-wed af-ter a mo-ment's he-si-ta-ti-on.
They pas-sed by the newly ins-tal-led no tres-pas-sing sign and went aro-und
the si-de of the church.
"I no-ti-ced so-met-hing el-se," Timmy sa-id. "She had on anot-her new
pa-ir of ear-rings.
I'm tel-ling you, man, so-met-hing we-ird's go-ing on. So-met-hing mo-re
than just him hit-ting them."
"But, li-ke you sa-id, the-re's not-hing we can do. Barry's dad is a
grown-up. We're kids."
Timmy kic-ked a sto-ne. It shot ac-ross the church par-king lot,
ca-re-ened off a te-lep-ho-ne po-le, and rol-led away.
"He's no adult. He's a mons-ter. Barry sho-uld tell so-me-body."
"Maybe he's af-ra-id to."
They re-ac-hed the re-ar of the church and star-ted down the ce-me-tery's
cen-ter ro-ad.
There was no sign of Barry or his fat-her, and they didn' t he-ar the
so-und of lawn-mo-wers or anyt-hing el-se. This mor-ning, even the birds and
in-sects se-emed si-lent. It was al-most as if all the wild-li-fe had
aban-do-ned the gro-unds.
"Why wo-uld Barry be af-ra-id to tell?" Timmy lo-we-red his vo-ice, in
ca-se Mr. Smelt-zer or Barry we-re wit-hin ears-hot. "He' d be sa-fe. Him and
his mom both. The cops wo-uld lock his old man up in a he-art-be-at."
"Maybe he's em-bar-ras-sed-li-ke I was." Do-ug sig-hed. "I still can't
be-li-eve I told you last night."
"Are you sorry that you did?"
"No." Do-ug he-si-ta-ted. "But I am af-ra-id that you'll tell so-me-body.
Yo-ur pa-rents, or Re-ve-rend Mo-ore."
Timmy clap-ped him on the sho-ul-der. "I pro-mi-sed that I wo-uldn't tell,
and I won't.
But you've got-ta do so-met-hing, man. You can' t just stay the-re and let
her ke-ep do-ing this to you. It 's not right. She's no bet-ter than Barry's
dad."
"I know, I know. It's just-she's all I ha-ve left, Timmy. I can't just
le-ave her."
"But you ha-ve to. You ha-ve to get out of the-re."
"I can't. I know it's wrong. I know it' s do-ing so-met-hing bad, li-ke
the ti-me we put the shot-gun shell on the ra-il-ro-ad tracks to see what
wo-uld hap-pen when the tra-in ran over it."
Timmy sho-ok his he-ad. "It's a lit-tle wor-se than that, Do-ug."
"I know. All I'm sa-ying is that I know it's wrong, but I can't stop it,
ot-her than loc-king my do-or."
"Do you li-ke it? Do you want it to ke-ep hap-pe-ning?"
Doug lo-oked hor-ri-fi-ed. "No. Of co-ur-se I don't li-ke it. I ha-te it.
I told you that."
Page 76
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Then get so-me help."
"I can't. It wo-uldn't be-"
"She's a mons-ter."
"She's al-so my mot-her!"
He sho-ved Timmy, hard. Timmy stumb-led back-ward, al-most trip-ping over
a low gra-ves-to-ne. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]