Free Mad Season by Nancy Means Wright Page A

only six-thirty he saw by his clock, and the house was still. Though he could smell coffee brewing down in the kitchen and knew his mother was back from the barn.
    His heart jerked. Was it his mother who got the telescope? Jeezum. Had she been to see the Unsworths or Marsh’s mother the way she always threatened? She was out late last night, she could have gone. He was worried now. Didn’t she know she could make it worse for him? He’d decided not to tell her about the episode in the woods. He made Gerry Dufours’s pa promise not to tell, and Mr. Dufours said he understood, but if it happened again he might go out with a shotgun after those snotty kids and “larn ‘em a lesson.” Vic didn’t want that either. They’d take it out on him and Gerry afterward, wouldn’t they?
    The telescope was bent, he saw. The glass was broken in the butt of it. And he’d spent a month’s allowance to buy the special glass. He punched his pillow. What was wrong with farmers, anyhow? His dad went to a college good as them. He’d said that once, and one of them said “Cow College,” and maybe it was true. His dad studied agriculture. What was wrong with studying agriculture?
    A car pulled up outside, and he squinted out his window. It was a thin man in baggy cords and dungaree jacket, that Hanna guy. His mother said he’d be around again, to talk to him. Well, he was glad. He had a theory. He had a theory that whatever happened in the woods yesterday was mixed up with what happened to the Larocques.
    He didn’t know just how, of course, kids that size couldn’t beat up an old man, could they? An old lady like Mrs. Larocque? But maybe enough of them could.
    But how could he tell Mr. Hanna without saying what happened? The guy was too much in cahoots with his mother.
    Then he remembered that Mrs. Larocque was dead. His belly ached to think of it. That was how he was able to slip past his mother without any questions. She had that phone call. He didn’t like that. Jeezum. Nobody had any business beating up on an old lady.
    “It’s not fair,” he said aloud.
    “What isn’t fair?” It was Emily, sticking her nose into his room, smelling of barn. He moved away, he didn’t want to get the smell on him before school. “Little boy got to get up in the morning? Do chores? Sweep a floor? Poor little abused kid.”
    She was being sarcastic, he was annoyed. “I don’t mind chores. I can work as good as you any day. And you were late yesterday, Mom was pissed. Mom—”
    Then he realized he still had the telescope in his hand. He saw her looking at it.
    “What happened to it, Vic?” she said quietly. She came in the room and sat on his bed, looked at the broken glass, the bent shape of it. “Somebody take it from you?”
    “Who’d take it from me? I dropped it, is all. I dropped it in school and the glass broke. I can fix it. Today, after school.” He slapped it down on his desk. “Get outa here now, I gotta get dressed. Tell that guy I’ll be right down.”
    “Okay.” She got up off the bed. “Make sure you go to school. Stay home, they’ll think you’re chicken. Anyway, I had a little talk with Garth yesterday. At Wilder’s house. I got a feeling they won’t bother you today.”
    “Who bothers me? Don’t you talk to Garth about me. Wilder either. I don’t like that! I had a cold coming on yesterday.” He sniffed. “It’s all the way on now. But I’m going to school. I always go. Now, get outa here, I said.”
    “I’m out,” she said and shut the door behind. A minute later he heard the shower going. Emily didn’t want the barn smell on her either.
    Sisters were a pain. All these females telling him what to do, what to eat. Vic wished his dad were here. Did he think those Saturday night calls made up for his being away all these months?
    “I hate you, Dad,” he cried, “hate you. And I won’t come live with you. Ever!”
    He stuck his short bony legs into yesterday’s underpants. His mother hadn’t