Read Online End of the Innocence by John Goode - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Goode
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my back on him.
“Can I call you at lunch?” he asked, and it just broke my heart.
I nodded. “Call me at lunch.” I walked inside, hating the expression of abject sorrow on his face but knowing I was doing the right thing. He raised one hand to wave at me as I closed the door. As I leaned against it, I let out a sigh. That was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
“You wanna talk about it?” my mom asked after a few seconds.
I forced back the automatic sarcasm that came flooding to my mouth, because she was really trying to help. “No, I just want to sleep,” I said, heading back to my room.
“What happened at the diner?” she asked to my back.
“Just another day in Foster!” I yelled back as I slammed my door.
And that was how my day was supposed to end. Me falling into my bed and waiting for life to pass me by, at least this one day of it. But as with the best laid plans of mice and men… that didn’t happen.
A little over an hour later, I heard the front door open and my mom talking to someone. I ignored it since her friends came over any time they felt like it. But as I listened, the voices got closer and closer to my room until the door came swinging open.
Robbie stood there in the door frame like a vampire waiting for permission to enter my room. My mom was right behind him, not looking anything close to happy. “He said he knows you,” she said.
“He knows me,” Robbie said, walking slowly into my room. “He just won’t admit it out loud.” He tossed my backpack off my chair and sat down like it was his own personal throne. “We’re good,” he said to my mom, clearly dismissing her.
“He’s okay,” I said to her before she exploded on him. She did not take her eyes off him as she closed the door.
“I am far more than okay, but we will let that one slide,” he said, looking around the room slowly. “I love what you’ve done with the place; postapocalyptic Target, right?”
I buried my head in my pillow. “What do you want?”
“What I want is the cast of Magic Mike to be my personal love slaves, but we all know that isn’t going to happen.” He paused and then asked. “Is that what happened when you got a bucket of water thrown on you?”
I looked up and saw him looking at the pile of clothes I shed last night. “I’ll pay you back,” I said, groaning.
“Right, so this is what happened at Nancy’s?”
I sat up. “What did you hear?”
“I heard there was an asshole at the diner, and Gayle almost shot him. So what, did he throw something at you?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I pleaded with him.
“Did he spit at you? Try to hit you?” he kept asking.
“Please, just drop it.”
“Did he try to drag you into the middle of the street and tie you up to the back of his car?” His tone had not changed a bit. The same kind of sarcastic, conversational tone he’d had when we talked in the store still was there, but there was a new coldness under it. I stared up at him, and he sat, expressionless, watching me. “Did he try to tie you to a fence and throw rocks at your head while he made you recite the Lord’s Prayer?” I shook my head “no” slowly. “Then I guess it wasn’t that bad a day, was it?” He stood up, walked over to the heap in the corner, and kicked at the clothes. “Get up, get dressed, and meet me outside.” He paused before he opened the door. “And put the clothes in a bag or something.”
“I am not in the mood to go anywhere,” I told him.
“Oh good. Because I didn’t ask you,” he replied. “Five minutes. Then I am throwing water into your bed.” He closed the door, then opened it again. “That was not a joke.” And he was gone.
“What the fuck?” I asked myself as I got out of bed. I had no idea what had happened beyond the fact that I was confused.
In less than five minutes I was outside, carrying the ruined clothes in a plastic grocery bag.
He stood smoking in front of a lime-green VW bug with
“Can I call you at lunch?” he asked, and it just broke my heart.
I nodded. “Call me at lunch.” I walked inside, hating the expression of abject sorrow on his face but knowing I was doing the right thing. He raised one hand to wave at me as I closed the door. As I leaned against it, I let out a sigh. That was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
“You wanna talk about it?” my mom asked after a few seconds.
I forced back the automatic sarcasm that came flooding to my mouth, because she was really trying to help. “No, I just want to sleep,” I said, heading back to my room.
“What happened at the diner?” she asked to my back.
“Just another day in Foster!” I yelled back as I slammed my door.
And that was how my day was supposed to end. Me falling into my bed and waiting for life to pass me by, at least this one day of it. But as with the best laid plans of mice and men… that didn’t happen.
A little over an hour later, I heard the front door open and my mom talking to someone. I ignored it since her friends came over any time they felt like it. But as I listened, the voices got closer and closer to my room until the door came swinging open.
Robbie stood there in the door frame like a vampire waiting for permission to enter my room. My mom was right behind him, not looking anything close to happy. “He said he knows you,” she said.
“He knows me,” Robbie said, walking slowly into my room. “He just won’t admit it out loud.” He tossed my backpack off my chair and sat down like it was his own personal throne. “We’re good,” he said to my mom, clearly dismissing her.
“He’s okay,” I said to her before she exploded on him. She did not take her eyes off him as she closed the door.
“I am far more than okay, but we will let that one slide,” he said, looking around the room slowly. “I love what you’ve done with the place; postapocalyptic Target, right?”
I buried my head in my pillow. “What do you want?”
“What I want is the cast of Magic Mike to be my personal love slaves, but we all know that isn’t going to happen.” He paused and then asked. “Is that what happened when you got a bucket of water thrown on you?”
I looked up and saw him looking at the pile of clothes I shed last night. “I’ll pay you back,” I said, groaning.
“Right, so this is what happened at Nancy’s?”
I sat up. “What did you hear?”
“I heard there was an asshole at the diner, and Gayle almost shot him. So what, did he throw something at you?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I pleaded with him.
“Did he spit at you? Try to hit you?” he kept asking.
“Please, just drop it.”
“Did he try to drag you into the middle of the street and tie you up to the back of his car?” His tone had not changed a bit. The same kind of sarcastic, conversational tone he’d had when we talked in the store still was there, but there was a new coldness under it. I stared up at him, and he sat, expressionless, watching me. “Did he try to tie you to a fence and throw rocks at your head while he made you recite the Lord’s Prayer?” I shook my head “no” slowly. “Then I guess it wasn’t that bad a day, was it?” He stood up, walked over to the heap in the corner, and kicked at the clothes. “Get up, get dressed, and meet me outside.” He paused before he opened the door. “And put the clothes in a bag or something.”
“I am not in the mood to go anywhere,” I told him.
“Oh good. Because I didn’t ask you,” he replied. “Five minutes. Then I am throwing water into your bed.” He closed the door, then opened it again. “That was not a joke.” And he was gone.
“What the fuck?” I asked myself as I got out of bed. I had no idea what had happened beyond the fact that I was confused.
In less than five minutes I was outside, carrying the ruined clothes in a plastic grocery bag.
He stood smoking in front of a lime-green VW bug with
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