Free Nightwitch by Ken Douglas Page A

she saw him looking at it.
    He winced as she applied the peroxide and winced again as she applied three bandages, cross wise because he wouldn’t go to the doctor and get stitches. There was no way he wanted his dad to find out.
    “ What am I gonna put on?” he said, again conscious that he was naked from the waist up, that he was roly poly fat, that he was China bone white, and that sweat was pouring like rain from under his arms.
    “ I have one of my dad’s old Army shirts.” She went to her bottom dresser drawer and opened it. “Sheila sleeps on it.” She pulled out a faded military green fatigue shirt, shook it, and brought it over to him. “Here.”
    He took the offered shirt, pulling an arm behind himself to put it on. Sliding in the other arm, he smiled—he liked the way the old cotton felt next to his skin, and he smiled even broader when he was surprised to see that it fit. It was a man’s shirt. For a second he felt a tinge of pride, then he remembered that the only reason it fit was because he was fat.
    “ I was sure lucky you came over tonight,” she said. “You saved my life.” The gratitude in her perfect mint green eyes was real.
    He was embarrassed and turned away.
    “ No, really,” she said. “If you wouldn’t have come over, one of those bullets would have killed me, because I’d probably have been sitting right there playing with Sheila. And if you wouldn’t have jumped on me, the bullet that sliced your back would have gone right through me. So, no matter if you like it or not, you saved my life. I’m going to have to follow you around forever, until I can save yours. Then we’ll be even.” She smiled.
    He looked over at the remains of the smashed Tiffany lamp and noticed a hole in the wall, by her dresser. That bullet would have smashed into her small body and tore up her insides, pulling out blood, guts and gore.
    “ We should clean up that mess,” he said, nodding toward the broken glass on the floor.
    “ Let’s look outside first.” She picked up her backpack and held it open. The ferret scurried in and she closed it up and slung it over her left shoulder.
    He was impressed. She should be scared stiff as a petrified log. Most kids would be crying and shaking, but here she was, wanting to go outside and maybe see who fired the gun into her bedroom.
    “ You think that’s smart?” he said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go out right now.
    “ It’ll be okay. There isn’t going to be anybody there. We heard the car peel away.”
    “ I was more worried about the police. If they come and find out someone shot into your house, they’re gonna stay till your mom gets home and they’re not gonna let me leave without calling my parents.”
    “ The bullets would have to go through the tree first, silly. You won’t be able to see from outside.”
    “ What about in here? What about when your mother comes home?”
    “ She never comes in here, but I’ll clean up the mess and move my dresser in front of the holes in the wall.”
    “ What if the bullets went out the other side?”
    Carolina poked her head out the door. “Didn’t go through. My mom will never know.”
    “ Maybe you should tell her. And maybe you should call the police. I could go home and you could say that someone drove by and shot off a gun.”
    “ No way. I don’t want you to leave. We’ll keep it secret. It was probably some old cat burglar that thought nobody was home and when we turned on the lights, he just shot off his gun because he was pissed.”
    “ I could stay. I’ve been in trouble with my dad before and I’ll be in trouble again. How bad could it be?”
    “ No way, Arty, we’ll keep it secret.”
    “ Okay.” He pushed off the bed. Then he walked to the curtains, pulled them up and put his fingers through the two holes. “We heard three shots,” he said.
    “ Who knows where the other one went.”
    “ What about the lamp?” he said, looking at the glass on the floor.
    “ My mom