Free Nursery Tale by T. M. Wright Page B

midnight, the still, ragged line of chimney smoke was gone, pushed off by a sudden strong wind. Several poorly installed roofing tiles on one of Granada's not-yet-completed houses were whisked away by the wind. The smallest of the four flowering dogwood trees in the McIntyres' backyard was partially uprooted. At the Harris home, some empty garbage cans, still awaiting the white aluminum sheds that sheltered all garbage cans in Granada, rolled noisily across the side yard and into the Harrises' new Mercury Bobcat.
    From their bedroom window on the second floor of the Graham house next door, Robin and Robert Graham fell into fits of nervous giggling. Rolling garbage cans were hilarious things, as far as they were concerned. At the end of one giggling fit, Robert (Rob) Graham said to his brother, "It's a good thing they weren't fulla banana peels and melon rinds," which set them both up for another fit of giggling.
    "Yeah," Robin managed.
    "Banana peels and melon rinds," Rob said again, suddenly aware that the words felt good rolling off his tongue. "Bo-no-no peels," he sang, to no particular melody, "and melon rinds." Then he felt his brother elbow him hard in the ribs. "Hey, that hurts!"
    Robin pointed urgently at the front of the Harrises' yard, "Looka that!"
    Rob looked. He saw only the line of shrubs that the landscapers had put in the week before. Granada's three streets boasted a half-dozen street lamps—the far half of the line of shrubs was bathed now in the light from one of them.
    "I don't see nothin'," Rob said, and he made a show of massaging his ribs.
    "Well, they hid or somethin'," Robin said. "They hid behind the shrubberies." He looked questioningly at his brother; another giggle burst from him, but it was short-lived and anxious. "Some kids, Rob. Three of 'em. And one was a girl, and they didn't have no clothes on!" He paused to relish what he was saying. "They didn't have no clothes on," he repeated wonderingly, as if in fascination. "And they were just standin' there—the three of 'em—just standin' there looking up at me." He turned quickly, ran to the tall walnut bookshelf he and his brother shared, got a pair of binoculars off one of the shelves.
    And the door burst open.
    Lorraine Graham, still wrapping a short, white terrycloth robe around herself, moved quickly to the window and drew the curtains closed. "What in the hell are you boys doing?"
    Rob, the twin still at the window, began to explain, "Robin said—"
    And Robin interrupted hurriedly, "We weren't doin' nothin', Mom. We were watchin' trash cans blow around, that's all." He put the binoculars away, confident she hadn't seen them. "Just watchin' trash cans blow around," he repeated.
    Lorraine Graham looked suspiciously at him. "Uh-huh," she said and nodded briskly to indicate their beds. "I'll give you five seconds!" she ordered. They obeyed instantly, and moments later she left the room.
    "I don't know," Robin said breathlessly from his bed, as if in answer to a question his brother hadn't asked. "I guess she was thirteen or fourteen. And you know"—he grinned and made cupping motions in the dark with his hands at his chest—"she had these great little boobs, like Mom has," which made his brother very uncomfortable because he wasn't sure he liked the idea that his mother had breasts at all, let alone that Robin would talk about them. "You'll see," Robin went on, still grinning, still awed by what he'd seen.
    Outside, Granada was quiet. The wind had died as quickly as it had come up.
    And those that watched were sleeping. In their way.

Part Four
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NIGHT FIRES
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Chapter 11
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    November 1
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    M anny Kent hit the brake pedal. The old Chevy pulled hard to the right and came to a halt on the soft shoulder, its back end out in the middle of the narrow dirt road.
    "Friggin' brakes!" Manny hissed. "It was just like the friggin' battery, all the time leakin' acid, and the friggin' gas lines! Damned friggin' old