to put a rock through your windshield, Willie,â said one of the Smith boys.
Willie Rumson strutted up. I was flat on my back and he was outlined against the pale blue sky. He looked about ten feet tall.
âNext time you pull his ladder, make sure heâs still on it, Jim,â said Rumson.
âWonât be a next time,â said Jim. âYou ainât going back to Dr. Kahn on Monday. Right?â He put both boots on my wrist.
âAnswer the man, faggot,â said Rumson.
âDrop dead,â I said.
âYou hear that?â Jim sounded almost as surprised as I was.
âIâve killed better men than you for a hell of a lot less.â Rumson lifted his boot over my face.
âHold on,â said Jim. âDonât stomp his face.â
âCanât hurt that stomach,â said Rumson.
âJust put your foot down,â said Jim. âIf he goes crying to Kahn and Kahn tells my dad, Iâll get my head knocked off.â
âMaybe Iâll just kick his ribs in.â
âKick his ribs, but just a little. Donât break em.
Another car pulled up. I couldnât see it, but I heard its squealing brakes and felt the gravel spray from its tires on my face.
âWhatcha got there, Willie-boy?â
âA juvenile delinquent, Uncle Homer. Tried to throw that rock through my windshield.â
âLet âim up.â
Jim Smith got off my wrist. A big, powerful hand grabbed my other arm and jerked me to my feet. âHeâs a heavy one.â My face came up to his badge. He was very tall and wide. âDrop that rock, young fella.â
I dropped it.
âNow why would you want to break Willieâs windshield? You could cause a accident, somebody get killed.â He wore the uniform of a town policeman. He had sergeant stripes on his sleeves. âHuh? What you say?â
âIâ¦I didnâtâ¦â
âWhatâs your name?â
âRobert Marks.â
âSummer people?â
âYes.â
âNow you get on home, next time I hear about you, your folksâll have to come down to the station, pick you up. Understand?â
âYes, sir.â
âNow get going.â He spun me around and booted me in the can.
I jogged all the way to the foot of my hill, and I never looked back. I heard laughter behind me.It sounded like Willie and his Uncle Homer were sharing some big joke. About me.
Mom and Michelle looked up suddenly when I walked in. I could tell I had interrupted some deep discussion. But when Mom said âIs everything all right, Bobby?â I knew the discussion wasnât about me. If it was about me she would have looked a little guilty and offered me a snack before dinner. That was a relief. For a minute I thought maybe Homer had called her up.
âIâm going to take a little nap before dinner.â
âThatâs fine.â
âDad be home soon?â
âNo, heâs tied up in the city.â She bit her lower lip. âHe wonât be able to make it up this weekend. Business.â
Michelle stared out the window.
Best news all week. Give me some time to think. Rumson, Dr. Kahn. Jim Smith, Homer; some mess. If I had to deal with my father, too, forget it.
I went into my room and I did what I always do when the going gets tough. I went to sleep. I didnât wake up until Saturday.
10
Without Dad, it was very quiet in the house. I kind of liked that. He always has something to say about everything. The weather, Momâs meals, my clothes, Michelleâs makeup, an opinion for every occasion whether you ask him or not. And heâs always organizing something, he just canât stand to see people lying around. Wasting your life, he calls it. Get out and do something, anything, he says. Mow the lawn, take a swim, read a book. I donât think he ever stared out the window in his life. Or had a daydream.
I just loafed around all day Saturday, looking at