think, Who’s the man to be going in that dark house, and coming in here?
For a second I thought I might ask’r, ’bout both the man and the boxes. But then I figured it be better if I just had a look myself, ’cause why tell’r them boxes interested me at all? I mean have a look right then and there, with the old lady downstairs and nobody else around to see me. Yeah, after that night next to Hooper’s I’d sort’f sworn off bustin’ in houses. But I weren’t worried about that right now ’cause who was there to catch me? Just a little old lady, and if she caught me I’d just say some lie.
So I tried.
But them windows were tight, I tell you, all painted shut, and the glass had that church wire in it, heavy lead stuff you’d need a brick to break.
So I figured I’d have me a look later on. Just had to think the best way and time, and I’d be on it.
Hour later I was back down on the porch and had my twenty bucks and Miss Gurpy, that’s the old lady’s name, reached out and pinched my cheek to be nice, though it hurt me, and handed me a kind of sandwich through the gap in the old screen door, but walking away I tossed it ’cause to tell it true, it didn’t smell too fresh.
Chapter Ten
So there I was walking home, going down the street at curfew all ready to go cutting over yards when a car stops behind me and I hear a voice that says, Hey, Zeets, and I turn around.
I can’t hardly see who’s driving ’cause the car’s all full of smoke, reefer smoke I smell ten foot off, but I know the car. ’S one of them old Fords you see around, sort of car that ain’t a sedan but looks like one on the front end, ’cept it got a pickup truck bed behind, called a Ranchero. Old car, blue paint all faded and the old chrome speckled with rust.
Boy who called out to me is Skugger, neighborhood kid actually named Ryan Skuggs, but his friends, they call him Skugger for no reason I could understand, ’cause who the hell would want to be called that? But that’s their way, them rich boys. They got all them names, Tuckie and Skugger and Topher, and go round calling out to each other like they talking in a code, and wear the same sort of clothes their mothers buy’m, like them puffy jackets, and do all the same things, too, like they all in a club just for themselves with nobody else allowed, thank you.
Anyway, Skugger, he’s sittin’ there on the passenger side with his head out the window. Hey, Zeets, he says, kind’f smiling at me, you wanna buy some weed? I’ve got some good shit, man, he says.
I shake my head for no. Ain’t interested, I say, and I walk the other way. ’Cause this here Skugger is a boy who sells drugs to all the boys around, pot and pills mostly but worse stuff too, and he been caught at it plenty of times. Used to go to that private school with all them other boys once, but since gettin’ caught the last time, got kicked out. One thing I’ll say is he makes good money at it. But I never done no drugs and don’t care to sell’m, neither. And right now I figure the last thing I need is to get caught with pills in my pocket by some cop.
He keeps leaning his chin on the doorjamb there on the car, watching me, window rolled down, and he says, You better look out, Zeets. Better watch your ass.
I give him a stare.
Why’s that? I ask.
Jimmy Brest told me he’s looking for you.
Now ole Skugger grins, sort’f nasty, like he’s onto something, like the secret is told.
Let’m look, I say. Here I am. Ain’t afraid of’m.
This time is gonna be different, Skugger says.
Yeah, I says. ’Cause it’ll go the other way.
He just laughs. Opens his mouth a big O for a big Ha-ha , though he ain’t really laughing.
Look out for yourself, he says, sort’f friendly, and he turns and settles back in his seat puffing the last of some smoke out his mouth and pulling down over his head this hat he got on, knit hat that hangs off ’s head like a two-foot sock even though it’s summertime.
For a second I thought I might ask’r, ’bout both the man and the boxes. But then I figured it be better if I just had a look myself, ’cause why tell’r them boxes interested me at all? I mean have a look right then and there, with the old lady downstairs and nobody else around to see me. Yeah, after that night next to Hooper’s I’d sort’f sworn off bustin’ in houses. But I weren’t worried about that right now ’cause who was there to catch me? Just a little old lady, and if she caught me I’d just say some lie.
So I tried.
But them windows were tight, I tell you, all painted shut, and the glass had that church wire in it, heavy lead stuff you’d need a brick to break.
So I figured I’d have me a look later on. Just had to think the best way and time, and I’d be on it.
Hour later I was back down on the porch and had my twenty bucks and Miss Gurpy, that’s the old lady’s name, reached out and pinched my cheek to be nice, though it hurt me, and handed me a kind of sandwich through the gap in the old screen door, but walking away I tossed it ’cause to tell it true, it didn’t smell too fresh.
Chapter Ten
So there I was walking home, going down the street at curfew all ready to go cutting over yards when a car stops behind me and I hear a voice that says, Hey, Zeets, and I turn around.
I can’t hardly see who’s driving ’cause the car’s all full of smoke, reefer smoke I smell ten foot off, but I know the car. ’S one of them old Fords you see around, sort of car that ain’t a sedan but looks like one on the front end, ’cept it got a pickup truck bed behind, called a Ranchero. Old car, blue paint all faded and the old chrome speckled with rust.
Boy who called out to me is Skugger, neighborhood kid actually named Ryan Skuggs, but his friends, they call him Skugger for no reason I could understand, ’cause who the hell would want to be called that? But that’s their way, them rich boys. They got all them names, Tuckie and Skugger and Topher, and go round calling out to each other like they talking in a code, and wear the same sort of clothes their mothers buy’m, like them puffy jackets, and do all the same things, too, like they all in a club just for themselves with nobody else allowed, thank you.
Anyway, Skugger, he’s sittin’ there on the passenger side with his head out the window. Hey, Zeets, he says, kind’f smiling at me, you wanna buy some weed? I’ve got some good shit, man, he says.
I shake my head for no. Ain’t interested, I say, and I walk the other way. ’Cause this here Skugger is a boy who sells drugs to all the boys around, pot and pills mostly but worse stuff too, and he been caught at it plenty of times. Used to go to that private school with all them other boys once, but since gettin’ caught the last time, got kicked out. One thing I’ll say is he makes good money at it. But I never done no drugs and don’t care to sell’m, neither. And right now I figure the last thing I need is to get caught with pills in my pocket by some cop.
He keeps leaning his chin on the doorjamb there on the car, watching me, window rolled down, and he says, You better look out, Zeets. Better watch your ass.
I give him a stare.
Why’s that? I ask.
Jimmy Brest told me he’s looking for you.
Now ole Skugger grins, sort’f nasty, like he’s onto something, like the secret is told.
Let’m look, I say. Here I am. Ain’t afraid of’m.
This time is gonna be different, Skugger says.
Yeah, I says. ’Cause it’ll go the other way.
He just laughs. Opens his mouth a big O for a big Ha-ha , though he ain’t really laughing.
Look out for yourself, he says, sort’f friendly, and he turns and settles back in his seat puffing the last of some smoke out his mouth and pulling down over his head this hat he got on, knit hat that hangs off ’s head like a two-foot sock even though it’s summertime.
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