Free The Adventures of Flash Jackson by William Kowalski Page B

than most people.
    I went back into the house and dialed the Grunveldts. My mother answered.
    â€œHello?” she said. Her voice was stretched as thin as a guitar string. I imagined the two of them up there along with Mr. Grunveldt, working each other up to fever pitches of worry and excitement.
    â€œKeep your shirt on, honey,” I told her. “Brother’s back, so Frankie hasn’t gone too far off. He’s probably hiding somewhere. Try down at the creek.”
    â€œYou think he might be at the creek?” she said. Over her shoulder she said, “Haley thinks he’s down at the creek!”
    â€œDon’t be dragging those old mummies around with you,” I told her, meaning the Grunveldts. “If they fall down, they’ll snap in half.”
    â€œWell, there’s no reason for that kind of tone,” said Mother.
    â€œJust head on down there and take a peek around,” I said. “I’d go myself, but if I don’t lay down soon this leg is never going to get better.” I hung up then.
    Of course, I didn’t think Frankie was down at the creek at all. He was scared to death of water. The creek wasn’t much of a creek at all, just a little trickle of water about a foot across and maybe three inchesdeep, but it led into a kind of swimming hole just like you might have read about in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer , if you’re the literate type. The swimming hole wasn’t very big either, but it was good for cooling off in on a hot day. There were a few fish in there, and some turtles. But Frankie was genuinely terrified of water, and the one time he and I went down there together and I took a jump in the water he started to holler and scream, telling me to get out of there before I drowned. He had a god-awful fear of drowning, that boy. So of all the places he could have gone, I knew for sure the creek wasn’t one of them.
    I guess, all things considered, I didn’t want anyone to find Frankie. I knew as well as anyone else how sometimes a person just needs to run off for a while, when things get to be too much. I still thought Frankie was making something out of nothing, but in his world there was no telling what was going to upset him; if he thought this house-selling business was the end of the world, why then as far as he was concerned it was , and nobody would be able to talk him out of it. Let him be , I thought. Just let the poor old fruitcake alone. He’ll come home when he’s hungry enough .
    Then I felt bad for thinking of him as a fruitcake. He wasn’t a fruitcake. He was childish, but he wasn’t stupid, that boy. And right now he was scared, and alone. I thought about praying for him too, but I didn’t want to overdo it. One miracle was enough for that day. Frankie would be all right , I thought. God watches out for fools and children, and he was certainly a little bit of both .
    I laid down on my bed then and helped myself to one of those little white pills, and before I knew it I was asleep.

3
Lifting the Veil
    T hree days went by and Frankie didn’t show up. I probably don’t even need to mention that the Grunveldts were worried sick, and that everyone on two legs was out looking for him. That let me out, of course. I just stayed in bed.
    But let me backtrack for a minute. Only a few hours after Frankie took off, and once the Grunveldts realized he wasn’t coming back, the sheriff was called. And that was just like I thought it would be. Ed Barnabas—that’s the sheriff—came out with his deputies and a bunch of dogs, and for two or three days they tore up the whole countryside, whooping and baying and knocking on doors and sniffing around creeks and woods and barns and what have you. But they never turned him up. I had to tell the whole story of how he’d taken off and how Brother had come back without him about forty thousand times. Even then, old Sheriff Ed acted like he didn’t