Free The Goats by Brock Cole Page B

cards.
    â€œCome on, Clyde. Let’s you and me dance,” said Lydia.
    â€œNo,” he said. “I don’t dance very well.” He could feel the girl’s weight against him. He was very comfortable. But Lydia wouldn’t allow it. She caught his
hands and pulled him away from the table. He liked Lydia, but he was glad when one of the big kids from the bus started dancing with them, too. The big kid matched his steps exactly to Lydia’s, so that they moved together in short slight movements. It was pleasant to watch them. After a few minutes the boy sidled away.
    He saw the girl sitting alone with Pardoe at the table. He couldn’t see Calvin and Tiwanda. Pardoe was smiling, and the girl was looking at the floor, as if she wanted Pardoe to leave her alone.
    â€œWell, if it ain’t Clyde. Hello, Clyde.”
    The boy nodded once. He didn’t know what Pardoe might do, and he understood that he must be careful.
    â€œI was just telling your sister here that it isn’t smart to go running around in the woods. People see you. They wonder what you’re doing. They might call the cops if they wonder enough. It’s better in the city. Nobody cares.”
    â€œWe’re going to meet her mom on Saturday.”
    â€œOh yeah. You’re going to meet her mom on Saturday.” Pardoe repeated his words as if they were a lesson he had difficulty remembering. He was smiling at the boy, and then his eyes changed so that he was looking through him at the other side of the room.
    He turned back to the girl suddenly. “Hey, Bonnie. Look at this.” He fished a brass key on a string out of his shirt. It was moist and shiny from rubbing against his skin.

    â€œIt’s a key. So?” said the boy.
    â€œThat’s right, Bonnie. It’s a key. But do you know whose key? Ever hear of Art Mobling?”
    â€œYes. He’s on TV,” said the boy. It was strange talking to Pardoe this way, because Pardoe was pretending he wasn’t there and that it was the girl who was asking the questions. It made him feel big and in the way, and at the same time transparent.
    â€œThis is the key to his place. Wow. You should see it. I bet you never saw anything like it. It’s way up in one of those buildings by the lake. It’s got windows all over the place, and all the rugs and stuff are white.”
    â€œI don’t get it,” said the boy, unable to leave it alone. “Why would he give you his key?”
    Pardoe turned red, but smiled at the girl as if she had asked the question he had hoped she would.
    â€œHe’s a friend of mine. A real good friend. He likes to help kids, and I help him out, too. He gave me this shirt. You like this shirt?” He held up his arm in front of the girl’s face, but she turned away.
    â€œHe’d help you out, Bonnie. Really. You go to him, tell him you’re a friend of mine. I’ll let you have the key so he’ll know you’re okay. He’d take care of you. Real well. You wouldn’t have to go slumming around in the woods anymore. No strings really. You be nice to him. He’s nice to you. That’s what friends are for.”
    Pardoe waited for her to say something, but she simply stared at the floor. She didn’t seem able to
move. The boy felt as if they were stuck to Pardoe. As if he had been talking to them for hours.
    â€œYou like pizza?” Pardoe said brightly. “God, Art and I had this great pizza the last time I was there. Everything on it. Anchovies. You like anchovies?”
    â€œI told you that we were going to meet her mom.”
    Pardoe turned slowly to look at him. He was still smiling. “You know something, Clyde? You keep flapping that big lip of yours, and I’m not even talking to you. I’m going to get annoyed in a minute. I might have to slap you around a little. Okay?”
    The boy felt himself start to tremble. He might even cry. When people said