Mister Death's Blue-Eyed Girls by Mary Downing Hahn
Authors: Mary Downing Hahn
Tags: Suspense
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park.
"Ask
him,
" Ellie shouts, and pulls me away. Without giving me time to ask why she's acting so strange, she keeps running.
I'm hot, I'm tired, the soles of my feet burn with pain. Most of all, I'm scared and confused. It's as if the whole world has changed. Nothing is what it used to be. It will never be the same again.
Accused
Friday, June 15
Buddy
I' VE been looking for Cheryl all morning, and here's Ellie acting like I should know what she's talking about when it doesn't even make sense. Shit, how should I know what's going on in the park? Man, it's too hot for this crap.
I glance at Gene. He's still leaning against my car, smoking, his eyes narrowed against the sun, sweating in the heat.
"What the hell's wrong with Ellie?" I ask.
"Females." He shrugs and exhales. "Maybe we should drive down to the park and find out what's going on. Didn't you notice the ambulances and cop cars coming up Eastern Avenue?"
I light a cigarette. "An accident on Route Forty or something. Happens all the time."
There's nothing else to do, so we get in my car and head for the park. Just in case there's something to see. Just in case Cheryl is there. I grip the wheel a little tighter. Who am I kidding? She won't be there. She's gone somewhere with Ralph in that big goddamn fancy convertible he drives. Girlsâis that all they want?
When we turn down Thirty-Third Street, we see at least six patrol cars. Cops stand around talking and smoking in front of Bobbi Jo's house. Inside, someone's crying, wailing, almost screaming. I start sweating. Something's wrong, you can feel it everywhere. I see Charlie and Paul and some other guys on the corner, all huddled together.
I park the car and Gene and me walk over there. "What's going on?" I ask Charlie.
They look at me. Their eyes are full of hate. I step back. "What's wrong with you guys?"
Paul hits me hard enough to knock me flat. I sprawl on the ground, too surprised to get up. What the hell's going on, what did I do? I look up at Gene. He's standing there, not doing a thing to help me. I start to get up and Walt spits in my face.
Gene comes to life then and grabs Walt's arm. "Cut it out, you little shit."
I'm no sooner on my feet, ready to fight all of them, when a cop comes up to me. "Harold Novak?" he says.
"Yeah." I give him a look I learned from watching old crime movies on TV, sort of a sneer and a smirk combined. I don't want him thinking I'm the kind of guy who gets knocked down all the time.
"We want to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" I'm getting a little nervous. There's something about the way the cop's looking at me, like I'm dirt under his feet. Scum.
"Get in the car." He takes my arm. I can smell coffee on his breath. His face is red and sweaty. "We're taking you down to the station house."
"What the hell for?" I'm scared shitless now, but damned if I'll show it.
"You know why," Charlie yells. "You goddamn bastard SOB!"
"That's enough, son." Another cop has appeared. He pats Charlie's shoulder. "Go on home now."
The boys back away, muttering and cussing at me. If the cops weren't here they'd jump me, all of them. I can feel their hatred like fire in the air, burning me.
"I haven't done anything," I yell at them, but the cops are leading me away, handcuffing me, shoving me into the back seat of the patrol car. "Why are you doing this? What did I do?" I ask them, but they just look at me like they hate me, like they'd like to beat me.
Out the window, I see the people in Bobbi Jo's neighborhood. Women with their hair in curlers, kids with their mouths open, kids crying, kids shaking their fists at me, Gene standing by my car as confused as I am. It's like a movie you start watching in the middle and you don't know what's going on but you know it's bad.
The driver turns on the siren, the car speeds up. Eastern Avenue flashes by in a blur of traffic getting out of the cops' way.
"What did I do?" I ask them, but they keep the backs of their heads to me.
"Ask
him,
" Ellie shouts, and pulls me away. Without giving me time to ask why she's acting so strange, she keeps running.
I'm hot, I'm tired, the soles of my feet burn with pain. Most of all, I'm scared and confused. It's as if the whole world has changed. Nothing is what it used to be. It will never be the same again.
Accused
Friday, June 15
Buddy
I' VE been looking for Cheryl all morning, and here's Ellie acting like I should know what she's talking about when it doesn't even make sense. Shit, how should I know what's going on in the park? Man, it's too hot for this crap.
I glance at Gene. He's still leaning against my car, smoking, his eyes narrowed against the sun, sweating in the heat.
"What the hell's wrong with Ellie?" I ask.
"Females." He shrugs and exhales. "Maybe we should drive down to the park and find out what's going on. Didn't you notice the ambulances and cop cars coming up Eastern Avenue?"
I light a cigarette. "An accident on Route Forty or something. Happens all the time."
There's nothing else to do, so we get in my car and head for the park. Just in case there's something to see. Just in case Cheryl is there. I grip the wheel a little tighter. Who am I kidding? She won't be there. She's gone somewhere with Ralph in that big goddamn fancy convertible he drives. Girlsâis that all they want?
When we turn down Thirty-Third Street, we see at least six patrol cars. Cops stand around talking and smoking in front of Bobbi Jo's house. Inside, someone's crying, wailing, almost screaming. I start sweating. Something's wrong, you can feel it everywhere. I see Charlie and Paul and some other guys on the corner, all huddled together.
I park the car and Gene and me walk over there. "What's going on?" I ask Charlie.
They look at me. Their eyes are full of hate. I step back. "What's wrong with you guys?"
Paul hits me hard enough to knock me flat. I sprawl on the ground, too surprised to get up. What the hell's going on, what did I do? I look up at Gene. He's standing there, not doing a thing to help me. I start to get up and Walt spits in my face.
Gene comes to life then and grabs Walt's arm. "Cut it out, you little shit."
I'm no sooner on my feet, ready to fight all of them, when a cop comes up to me. "Harold Novak?" he says.
"Yeah." I give him a look I learned from watching old crime movies on TV, sort of a sneer and a smirk combined. I don't want him thinking I'm the kind of guy who gets knocked down all the time.
"We want to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" I'm getting a little nervous. There's something about the way the cop's looking at me, like I'm dirt under his feet. Scum.
"Get in the car." He takes my arm. I can smell coffee on his breath. His face is red and sweaty. "We're taking you down to the station house."
"What the hell for?" I'm scared shitless now, but damned if I'll show it.
"You know why," Charlie yells. "You goddamn bastard SOB!"
"That's enough, son." Another cop has appeared. He pats Charlie's shoulder. "Go on home now."
The boys back away, muttering and cussing at me. If the cops weren't here they'd jump me, all of them. I can feel their hatred like fire in the air, burning me.
"I haven't done anything," I yell at them, but the cops are leading me away, handcuffing me, shoving me into the back seat of the patrol car. "Why are you doing this? What did I do?" I ask them, but they just look at me like they hate me, like they'd like to beat me.
Out the window, I see the people in Bobbi Jo's neighborhood. Women with their hair in curlers, kids with their mouths open, kids crying, kids shaking their fists at me, Gene standing by my car as confused as I am. It's like a movie you start watching in the middle and you don't know what's going on but you know it's bad.
The driver turns on the siren, the car speeds up. Eastern Avenue flashes by in a blur of traffic getting out of the cops' way.
"What did I do?" I ask them, but they keep the backs of their heads to me.
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