Read Online Christine by Steven King - Free Book Online Page A

the be-bop queen said, and hauled both kids back inside. I always like to see enlightened parents like that; it gives me hope for the future.
    I walked back to Arnie.
    â€œWell,” I said, dragging out the only witticism I could think of, “it’s only flat on the bottom, Arnie. Right?”
    He smiled wanly. “I got a slight problem, Dennis,” he said.
    I knew what his problem was; he had no spare.
    Arnie dragged out his wallet again—it hurt me to see him do it—and looked inside. “I got to get a new tire,” he said.
    â€œYeah, I guess you do. A retread—”
    â€œNo retreads. I don’t want to start out that way.”
    I didn’t say anything, but I glanced back toward my Duster. I had two retreads on it and I thought they were just fine.
    â€œHow much do you think a new Goodyear or Firestone would cost, Dennis?”
    I shrugged and consulted the little automotive accountant, who guessed that Arnie could probably get a new no-frills blackwall for around thirty-five dollars.
    He pulled out two twenties and handed them to me. “If it’s more—with the tax and everything—I’ll pay you back.”
    I looked at him sadly. “Arnie, how much of your week’s pay you got left?”
    His eyes narrowed and shifted away from mine. “Enough,” he said.
    I decided to try one more time—you must remember that I was only seventeen and still under the impression that people could be shown where their best interest lay. “You couldn’t get into a nickel poker game,” I said. “You plugged just about the whole fucking wad into that car. Dragging out your wallet is going to become a very familiar action to yon, Arnie. Please, man. Think it over.”
    His eyes went flinty. It was an expression I had not seen before on his face, and although you’ll probably think I was the most naive teenager in America, I couldn’t really remember having seen it on any face before. I felt a mixture of surprise and dismay—I felt the way I might have felt if I suddenly discovered I was trying to have a rational conversation with a fellow who just happened to be a lunatic. I have seen the expression since, though; I imagine you have too. Total shutdown. It’s the expression a man gets on his face when you tell him the woman he loves is whoring around behind his back.
    â€œDon’t get going on that, Dennis,” he said.
    I threw my hands up in exasperation. “All right! All right!”
    â€œAnd you don’t have to go after the damn tire, either, if you don’t want to.” That flinty, obdurate, and—so help me, it’s true—stupidly stubborn expression was still on his face. “I’ll find a way.”
    I started to reply, and I might have said something pretty hot, but then I happened to glance to my left. The two porky little kids were there at the edge of their lawn. They were astride identical Big Wheels, their fingers smeared with chocolate. They were watching us solemnly.
    â€œNo big deal, man,” I said. “I’ll get the tire.”
    â€œOnly if you want to, Dennis,” he said. “I know it’s getting late.”
    â€œIt’s cool,” I said.
    â€œMister?” the little boy said, licking chocolate off his fingers.
    â€œWhat?” Arnie asked.
    â€œMy mother says that car is poopy.”
    â€œThat’s right,” the little girl chimed. “Poopy-kaka.”
    â€œPoopy-kaka,” Arnie said. “Why, that’s very perceptive, isn’t it, kids? Is your mother a philosopher?”
    â€œNo,” the little boy said. “She’s a Capricorn. I’m a Libra. My sister is a—”
    â€œI’ll be back quick as I can,” I said awkwardly.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œStay cool.”
    â€œDon’t worry, I’m not going to punch anybody.”
    I trotted to my car. As I slipped behind the wheel I heard the