Free Boys & Girls Together by William Goldman Page A

right arrived.
    “Half hour if I hurry.”
    “You wanna do something after that maybe?”
    “Sure. What?”
    “I don’t know. Something.”
    “Fine with me. Where? Here?”
    “How ’bout my house? We got trees.”
    “Where’s your house?”
    “End of Linden Lane.”
    “I’ll find it.” The recess bell rang. They started back to school, still fighting. “Zonk.” A right to the breadbasket. “See you, Walt.”
    “Whap.” A final errant left. “See you, Gino.”
    As soon as school was over he hurried home. His mother was back by the pool with Mrs. Hosquith. She waved to him, gesturing toward the water, but he shook his head, shouting, “Gino’s coming to play” before turning, starting for the kitchen. He let the screen door slam shut with a bang because that always got Maudie good.
    “You let that door slam one more time and you are d-e-a-d.”
    “Hey, Maudie.” He entered her domain.
    “Don’t you ‘Hey Maudie’ me, whoever you are. I don’t associate with people so stupid they let the door slam.”
    “Hey, Maudie.”
    “Hey Maudie what?”
    “What we got to eat?”
    “Food, stupid. That’s what we generally eat, ain’t it?”
    “We got any cookies or cake or anything?”
    “Who wants to know?”
    “Gino’s coming to play and maybe he’ll be hungry.”
    “The famous marble shooter you told me about?”
    Walt nodded.
    “Is he as stupid as you are?”
    Walt shook his head.
    “Then don’t you worry. I’ll feed him.”
    Walt dashed out the back, letting the screen door slam again, waiting till he heard “d-e-a-d” loud and clear. Then he ran around to the front and started inspecting trees. He decided that the old maple would be best to climb, and, the decision made, he tore into the house again and up to his room. He got out his collection of baseball cards and tossed them casually across his dresser top. Then he brought his game of Photo Electric Football from his closet and stood it in a corner of the room. Ready at last, he mussed his hair, made sure his hands were dirty and walked to the window seat on the landing. From the window he had a clear view of the long driveway along which Gino would have to travel. Walt waited. After a moment or two he began to sing. “I’m called little Buttercup, sweet little Buttercup, though I shall never tell whyyyyyy; but still I’m called Buttercup, dear little Buttercup, sweet little Buttercup I-I-I-I-I-I-I.” No Gino. He dashed downstairs and looked at the grandfather’s clock that dominated one corner of the foyer. It had been half an hour. Gino was due. He took the stairs two at a time and slid safely onto the window seat. It was a beautiful day, warm, with the leaves still striving for green. A light wind blew across the great lawn. Walt slid down the banister and examined the grandfather’s clock. Forty minutes now. He climbed back to the window seat. The maple tree was begging to be conquered; its low arms reached out toward him, bowing before the mounting wind. “You’re mad, Kirkaby. No one has ever climbed Everest. Much less at night. Much less in a blizzard like this one. Great Scott, man, you won’t have a chance.” The Whizzer’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to listen to me, Kirkaby. It’s two hundred below on the slopes tonight. And that wind! Just listen.” The Whizzer listened. Then he donned his ear muffs. “Kirkaby, come back. Kirkaby, don’t. Kirkaby ... Fifty-five minutes. Walt drew back his foot to kick the clock, then thought the better of it.
    “Ain’t your friend here yet?”
    “He’ll come!”
    Maudie looked at him. “Course he will, sugar. Don’t you worry.”
    Walt walked to the window seat and stared out. Nothing. Just the wind. At that moment he could have cried, so he vaulted off the seat and ran out into the front yard. The maple tree was no fun to climb alone, but he pulled himself up over the bottom limbs just to see better. Nothing. Just the wind. Had he said Linden Lane? Maybe he had