The Wild Kid by Harry Mazer Page B

I’m home, and you’re home.”
    â€œGo Fish,” Kevin said. “I’m tired of this game.” He got up and poked up the fire.
    â€œDid you hear me, Kevin? You’ll sleep in my room and everything. Did you hear my plan?”
    â€œI heard it, Sammy, and it’s not going to work.”
    â€œKevin, it will. My plan is—”
    â€œSammy, listen to me.” Kevin squatted next to Sammy so his nose was an inch from Sammy’s nose. “One. Your mother would never let me live in her house. Two—”
    â€œShe will!”
    â€œTwo, three, and four and five, your mother will take one look at me and say, ‘Out. I don’t want you stinking up my house.’ ”
    Sammy shook his head. His mother would never say stinking. She wasn’t like that, anyway. When he’d found a sick kitty cat and brought it home, she fed it and took it to the veterinarian doctor. But it died, anyway.
    He told Kevin this story, but Kevin got it all mixed up. “I’m not coming to your house to die,” he said.
    Sammy told him another story about the time his mother did something else good. She had a girl living with them who had no place to go. “She was alone, and her name was Irene, and she came from another country. See? My mother wants you to live with us.”
    Kevin emptied one of the cans outside. “Where do I sleep, in the cellar?”
    â€œNo, Kevin! In my room.”
    â€œHow big is it?”
    Sammy looked around. “Lots bigger than this. It has two windows. Two big windows and a bed and—”
    â€œOne bed? I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
    â€œYou can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
    â€œYour mother’s going to love that. What’s she going to say?”
    â€œShe’s going to say, ‘Sammy, you’ll catch cold if you sleep on the floor.’ ”
    â€œYou’ve got it right. That’s what I’m telling you. I can’t go home with you.”
    â€œI’ll bring in the pillows from the couch.” His friend Billy Pryor had slept on the pillows one time when they had a sleep over and popcorn and a special video. “Do you like popcorn, Kevin? We can have popcorn every night.”
    â€œIs that what you eat in your house, popcorn?”
    â€œNo! Spaghetti and meatballs, and macaroni and cheese. And all the ice cream you want every night, after you eat all your vegetables. And pancakes on Sunday.”
    â€œI’ll go for the pancakes. I don’t want to eat with your sister, though, or that guy. What’s his name? Carl.”
    â€œHe doesn’t eat with us, just sometimes.”
    â€œThat’s when I’m absent, man. I don’t like old Carl. He’s not going to like me, either. He sounds like a case. Anyway, who says I want to live in your house? Or anybody’s house.”
    The more they talked, the better Sammy liked his plan. It was a good plan. Kevin was being very stubborn. He kept shaking his head and saying, “No way, man. I’m living the way I want to live. Nobody tells me what to do. Nobody gives me orders. Once you get out, you never want to go back in.”

24

    It was barely light when Sammy slipped out of the shelter. He carried his sneakers. He didn’t want to wake Kevin and be called back. Outside, he put on the sneakers and a sweater Kevin had given him and tied his laces. He went up on the rocks, all the way up, zigzag, the way Kevin went. Without Kevin, the rocks were bigger and meaner, as if they wanted to stop Sammy. As if they were Kevin’s rocks and not his.
    He was sweating when he got to the top, but that was the end of Part One of his new plan. He wrapped the sweater around his waist. “Keep going, Sammy,” he said. Part Two was find the power lines and follow them to a road. Maybe the road by the cemetery. Then he could go to the mall and get the number 104 bus. He would tell