Free The Boy Detective Fails by Joe Meno Page B

ponytail, the other is taller with short, spiky blond hair. They push a suspicious-looking little girl’s bike in between them, small and awkward and pink.
    Billy stares at the bike for a moment and the strange machinations of his mind begin turning. He thinks: ! He glares at the two boys as they pass, both of them elbowing each other and laughing. The short round one with the ponytail whispers a single unheard word to his friend and they both snort.
    “You there,” Billy calls out. “I’d like to ask you about that bicycle.”
    Billy begins walking toward the boys, pushing his glasses up against his face.
    “What?”
    “I’d like to ask where you got that bicycle.”
    “From your butt,” the chubby one says with a laugh.
    “Yeah, from your butt,” the tall boy says, nodding.
    “There’s no need for that. It just seems out of the ordinary. I’d appreciate it if you answered me.”
    “We don’t give a shit what you appreciate.”
    The boy detective nods. He is now quite sure these boys have stolen the bicycle but does not know what to do next exactly.
    “I would only like to ask you a few questions.”
    “Fuck off. We’re not telling you shit.”
    The boy detective nods, taking a step closer.
    “I am trying to be polite but you are making it hard for me.”
    “What are you gonna do about it, spaz?”
    “Please. I only want to ask you a few questions about that bicycle.”
    “Tough shit. We are in league with the Devil,” the chubby one shouts, “we do what we want!”
    “With our dark powers, we do whatever we like,” the other taller one howls.
    “We kill and destroy.”
    “We annihilate without mercy.”
    “We are pure evil.”
    The boy detective takes another step forward, staring hard at the round boy’s face. The boy detective thinks: These young hoods are only cowards and don’t mean any real harm . He thinks, As long as I do not show my terrible, terrible fear, all will be well . He clenches his hands at his side. He glares confidently into their small, beady eyes. But it is in that moment that a single bright red drop of blood falls from Billy’s left nostril and lands on the back of his hand. He sees it, frowns, and then immediately faints, leaving his feet.
    When the boy detective comes to, he is lying on his side, staring up, and mumbling. “My nose is bleeding. My nose is bleeding. My nose is bleeding.” The blood is running copiously down the side of his face, dripping down the front of his blue sweater, irreparably staining it. He lifts his head and sees the two boys have disappeared and the two Mumford children are standing above him with worried looks on their small faces.
    “I am OK,” he mumbles. “I am OK.”
    “We thought you were dead,” Effie Mumford whispers, holding up his head.
    It is a good thing that Nurse Eloise knows how to stop a bloody nose. She has had four older brothers, she explains. She stands over Billy in the television room of Shady Glens, holding an icepack to his face, while Mr. Pluto stares at him very nervously. Finally, when the bleeding stops, Nurse Eloise asks: “Billy, how did it happen?”
    But the boy detective is silent.
    “I know you are embarrassed, but I’d like to know how you got a bloody nose.”
    But Billy only shakes his head.
    “I get them when I am nervous,” he says.
    “Was it the two boys at the end of the block? The blond one and the short one?”
    For a moment, the boy detective is a statue. Then his eyes twitch and he nods once, solemnly. Nurse Eloise pats his back and sighs, “I thought it was them. They are no good, either one of them.”
    Mr. Pluto stares at the boy detective and then hurries from the room, his massive steps echoing down the hallway.
    “Just lie there with your head forward,” Nurse Eloise says. “I’m going to do my rounds and I’ll be back to check on you in a half hour.” She hands Billy the television remote, which lies unused in his lap. He leans his head forward and tries to blink to