Read Online Blackbird by Larry Duplechan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Larry Duplechan
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again, yelling from the kitchen.
“Johnnie Ray Rousseau, I want your black butt out of that bathroom, now! The bus is comin’!”
By which time the bus wasn’t the only thing that was coming. I shot so hard it hit the opposite wall. I gathered myself together as fast as I could, wiped the sticky mess up off the wall, yanked up my Levi’s, tucked in my t-shirt, patted my hair, and emerged from the bathroom with what I hoped was an air of collected cool.
Mom was waiting at the door with my sweatshirt, my backpack, and my lunch.
“Baby,” she said, just dripping sarcasm, “I’m so glad you’re all right. I thought maybe you’d gone and flushed yourself down the commode.” Mom says I’m too sarcastic, which may be true, but let me tell you, I come by it honest.
“ Très drôle , Mother; you really must go on the stage.”
“I’ll leave the play-actin’ to you, Mister Smart-Ass. Let’s see you play the part of watching the bus pulling down the street.”
I looked out the kitchen window and saw the back of the bus chugging slowly away. And I said, “Aw, shit.” Which was a serious slip. One thing Mom does not abide is any swearing.
“Johnnie Ray Rousseau, I will not have that kind of language used in my house, and you know it. I don’t know what some people’s mothers may put up with, and I don’t care. As long as you’re living under my roof –”
“Mom I’m sorry I gotta go I’m sorry it won’t happen again bye Mom.” I kissed her on the cheek and bounded out the door like Arthur Lake in the Blondie movies. I lit out after the bus, the world-champion track star going for the gold, my book bag tucked under my arm and my lunch clutched in the other hand, my sneakers making a chip-chip-chip sound against the street as I ran.
I was pretty sure I could catch the bus at the next stop; I had to catch it or I’d be late. As I gained on the big, slow vehicle, I could see faces pressed against the back window of the bus, grinning and waving and cheering me on.
As I reached the exhaust-billowing tail end of the bus, I realized it was waiting for me. Bill the bus driver opened the doors and I climbed aboard, sweaty and huffing breaths. The kids on the bus applauded as Bill punched my bus card. Bill is one of the biggest, ugliest men I have ever seen – he had his four front upper teeth knocked out in some fight or other and never bothered to do anything about it – and he’s also, I think, just slightly retarded. But also one of the most likeable people in town. All the kids really dig the guy.
“Wayda go, champ!” Bill grinned his snaggle-toothed grin.
“Thank you all.” I smiled and bowed, still out of breath but every inch a star. “You’re much too kind. Ah, my public,” I said, flopping into an empty seat near the back. “How they love me.”
Just as I sat down, I heard someone call my name from behind me. I turned to see Carolann, or rather Crystal – at least I thought it was Crystal – sitting alone in the long seat at the very back of the bus.
She motioned me over.
“Hi,” I said, and sat down next to her, and then I whispered, “Crystal?” She smiled and nodded.
“It’s so nice to be called by my own name,” she said. “Gonna go check the bulletin board?”
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
“Little bit.” In fact, as soon as I sat down and began to catch my breath, I could feel that little tremor coming on, right on schedule. I was all but dead sure I was cast, but it didn’t matter.
Crystal looked around the bus like a movie spy checking to see if the coast was clear. Then she leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Something else?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it anything like what you told me yesterday?”
“No, not really,” she said. “But it’s sort of unusual, too.” She was whispering, which was silly, noisy as it was on that bus.
“Crystal,” I had to ask, “why me?”
“Because …” She shrugged. “I don’t
“Johnnie Ray Rousseau, I want your black butt out of that bathroom, now! The bus is comin’!”
By which time the bus wasn’t the only thing that was coming. I shot so hard it hit the opposite wall. I gathered myself together as fast as I could, wiped the sticky mess up off the wall, yanked up my Levi’s, tucked in my t-shirt, patted my hair, and emerged from the bathroom with what I hoped was an air of collected cool.
Mom was waiting at the door with my sweatshirt, my backpack, and my lunch.
“Baby,” she said, just dripping sarcasm, “I’m so glad you’re all right. I thought maybe you’d gone and flushed yourself down the commode.” Mom says I’m too sarcastic, which may be true, but let me tell you, I come by it honest.
“ Très drôle , Mother; you really must go on the stage.”
“I’ll leave the play-actin’ to you, Mister Smart-Ass. Let’s see you play the part of watching the bus pulling down the street.”
I looked out the kitchen window and saw the back of the bus chugging slowly away. And I said, “Aw, shit.” Which was a serious slip. One thing Mom does not abide is any swearing.
“Johnnie Ray Rousseau, I will not have that kind of language used in my house, and you know it. I don’t know what some people’s mothers may put up with, and I don’t care. As long as you’re living under my roof –”
“Mom I’m sorry I gotta go I’m sorry it won’t happen again bye Mom.” I kissed her on the cheek and bounded out the door like Arthur Lake in the Blondie movies. I lit out after the bus, the world-champion track star going for the gold, my book bag tucked under my arm and my lunch clutched in the other hand, my sneakers making a chip-chip-chip sound against the street as I ran.
I was pretty sure I could catch the bus at the next stop; I had to catch it or I’d be late. As I gained on the big, slow vehicle, I could see faces pressed against the back window of the bus, grinning and waving and cheering me on.
As I reached the exhaust-billowing tail end of the bus, I realized it was waiting for me. Bill the bus driver opened the doors and I climbed aboard, sweaty and huffing breaths. The kids on the bus applauded as Bill punched my bus card. Bill is one of the biggest, ugliest men I have ever seen – he had his four front upper teeth knocked out in some fight or other and never bothered to do anything about it – and he’s also, I think, just slightly retarded. But also one of the most likeable people in town. All the kids really dig the guy.
“Wayda go, champ!” Bill grinned his snaggle-toothed grin.
“Thank you all.” I smiled and bowed, still out of breath but every inch a star. “You’re much too kind. Ah, my public,” I said, flopping into an empty seat near the back. “How they love me.”
Just as I sat down, I heard someone call my name from behind me. I turned to see Carolann, or rather Crystal – at least I thought it was Crystal – sitting alone in the long seat at the very back of the bus.
She motioned me over.
“Hi,” I said, and sat down next to her, and then I whispered, “Crystal?” She smiled and nodded.
“It’s so nice to be called by my own name,” she said. “Gonna go check the bulletin board?”
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
“Little bit.” In fact, as soon as I sat down and began to catch my breath, I could feel that little tremor coming on, right on schedule. I was all but dead sure I was cast, but it didn’t matter.
Crystal looked around the bus like a movie spy checking to see if the coast was clear. Then she leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Something else?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it anything like what you told me yesterday?”
“No, not really,” she said. “But it’s sort of unusual, too.” She was whispering, which was silly, noisy as it was on that bus.
“Crystal,” I had to ask, “why me?”
“Because …” She shrugged. “I don’t
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