by then and she went, too. Mrs. Rand said she heard Pauline scream “Help!” just once. “ ‘Help’ was the last word that young girl screamed. Her last word on this earth. But there was nobody to help her,” Mrs. Rand said. “Nobody at all.”
CHAPTER 10
D ad decided to go up to the hospital in person to see Pauline’s parents.
“I’ll go too,” Mom told him. “You boys will be OK by yourselves?”
“Sure,” Alex said.
I nodded. I had a lot of thinking and worrying to do. No way could I let Mrs. Rand’s version of the story stay. It was all wrong, putting the blame for the whole thing on Otis…Otis who was dead…maybe.
As soon as they were gone, Alex asked, “Where does this Mrs. Rand live?”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
Alex grinned. “Nothin’. Why do you always think I’m going to do something?”
“Oh, right! That’s pretty dumb of me. I knowyou’re not the kind of guy to do anything.”
“I should be going over there to thank her for you,” Alex said. “She sure got you off the hook.”
“I don’t want off this way.”
“What does it matter? Otis is dead.”
“I thought you’d decided he wasn’t?”
“Well, if he isn’t, he’d better not come back to this town. Nobody’s going to welcome him with open arms.”
I went to the window. Birds were lined up, perfectly spaced on the telephone wire. Roses glowed in Mom’s garden.
“Hey,” Alex said. “You’re freaking out again! This is the best thing that ever happened for you. Would you like it more if this Mrs. Rand was running around saying she saw you? Get real, Brodie!”
The birds flared up into the sky, wheeled together like ballet dancers, took off. Their wings were silver underneath. I’d made Otis die and I’d made people dislike him more, too. How could there still be birds? And roses?
Behind me Alex yawned a great gasp of a yawn. “Well, where does she live? I thought I’d book on over there and get in on the excitement.The newspaper guys will be there. Maybe even TV. Want to come?”
“No.” The thought of people stopping me, talking, telling me what a great thing I’d tried to do yesterday made my stomach turn the way it had at breakfast. Maybe I’d never be able to leave the house again. “She lives over on Strandtown Road. I don’t know which house.”
“I’ll find it. Can I take your bike?”
“OK.”
“They’ll probably get me one if I’m going to stay around, you know. Uncle David and Aunt Jenny I mean.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said.
“You think they wouldn’t buy me one?”
“I think you might not be staying around.”
Alex gave me a sharp look. “Don’t count on that, buddy,” he said.
He left the garage door open after he took off, and I went outside to close it. Bobby Steig was just leaving for work.
“Hi, Brodie!” he called. “I’ll be over tonight. Miser Moore, that’s my manager, sent you a gift certificate for two hero sandwiches. Hero…get it?”
“Yeah.”
Bobby grinned. “I go, ‘Two, Mr. Moore? That’s, like, awfully generous,’ and The Miser goes, ‘He might want to bring a friend.’”
“Well, tell your boss thanks,” I said. A week ago I’d have thought about bringing Pauline—after the movies.
Bobby rubbed his car hood with his elbow. “Paw prints,” he said. “And they’re like glue. I don’t even try to get them off anymore.”
I stood in the sunshine listening to the river. A song was running through my head. Not one of Dad’s lonesome cowboy tunes but an old Beatles song. “Yesterday.” My dad does sing it sometimes, even though it’s not western. It has that sad wail to it.
“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.”
I’d have to make myself get over this teary stuff every time I thought about what had happened. Tears weren’t going to help.
I went inside. The phone rang, but I let the machine pick it up. Upstairs I lay on my bed, trying to let the quiet soothe me, watching the shadow
CHAPTER 10
D ad decided to go up to the hospital in person to see Pauline’s parents.
“I’ll go too,” Mom told him. “You boys will be OK by yourselves?”
“Sure,” Alex said.
I nodded. I had a lot of thinking and worrying to do. No way could I let Mrs. Rand’s version of the story stay. It was all wrong, putting the blame for the whole thing on Otis…Otis who was dead…maybe.
As soon as they were gone, Alex asked, “Where does this Mrs. Rand live?”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
Alex grinned. “Nothin’. Why do you always think I’m going to do something?”
“Oh, right! That’s pretty dumb of me. I knowyou’re not the kind of guy to do anything.”
“I should be going over there to thank her for you,” Alex said. “She sure got you off the hook.”
“I don’t want off this way.”
“What does it matter? Otis is dead.”
“I thought you’d decided he wasn’t?”
“Well, if he isn’t, he’d better not come back to this town. Nobody’s going to welcome him with open arms.”
I went to the window. Birds were lined up, perfectly spaced on the telephone wire. Roses glowed in Mom’s garden.
“Hey,” Alex said. “You’re freaking out again! This is the best thing that ever happened for you. Would you like it more if this Mrs. Rand was running around saying she saw you? Get real, Brodie!”
The birds flared up into the sky, wheeled together like ballet dancers, took off. Their wings were silver underneath. I’d made Otis die and I’d made people dislike him more, too. How could there still be birds? And roses?
Behind me Alex yawned a great gasp of a yawn. “Well, where does she live? I thought I’d book on over there and get in on the excitement.The newspaper guys will be there. Maybe even TV. Want to come?”
“No.” The thought of people stopping me, talking, telling me what a great thing I’d tried to do yesterday made my stomach turn the way it had at breakfast. Maybe I’d never be able to leave the house again. “She lives over on Strandtown Road. I don’t know which house.”
“I’ll find it. Can I take your bike?”
“OK.”
“They’ll probably get me one if I’m going to stay around, you know. Uncle David and Aunt Jenny I mean.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said.
“You think they wouldn’t buy me one?”
“I think you might not be staying around.”
Alex gave me a sharp look. “Don’t count on that, buddy,” he said.
He left the garage door open after he took off, and I went outside to close it. Bobby Steig was just leaving for work.
“Hi, Brodie!” he called. “I’ll be over tonight. Miser Moore, that’s my manager, sent you a gift certificate for two hero sandwiches. Hero…get it?”
“Yeah.”
Bobby grinned. “I go, ‘Two, Mr. Moore? That’s, like, awfully generous,’ and The Miser goes, ‘He might want to bring a friend.’”
“Well, tell your boss thanks,” I said. A week ago I’d have thought about bringing Pauline—after the movies.
Bobby rubbed his car hood with his elbow. “Paw prints,” he said. “And they’re like glue. I don’t even try to get them off anymore.”
I stood in the sunshine listening to the river. A song was running through my head. Not one of Dad’s lonesome cowboy tunes but an old Beatles song. “Yesterday.” My dad does sing it sometimes, even though it’s not western. It has that sad wail to it.
“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.”
I’d have to make myself get over this teary stuff every time I thought about what had happened. Tears weren’t going to help.
I went inside. The phone rang, but I let the machine pick it up. Upstairs I lay on my bed, trying to let the quiet soothe me, watching the shadow
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