caught his stare, smiled, and quickly looked away. Her cheeks turned red. Timmy blushed and felt his ears begin to burn.
Spotting Timmy when he entered with his parents Barry and Doug walked over to him, and the three boys moved to the rear corner of the church. They made small talk, each uncomfortable with mentioning why they were there. Curious, Timmy asked them about Karen Moore 's whereabouts.
“You didn't hear?” Barry sounded surprised.
“No. What?”
“She skipped town with Pat Kemp. Nobody's seen them since Friday night. Took off together in his Nova. People are saying maybe they eloped.”
“No way. Seriously?”
Doug nodded. “Reverend Moore called the cops and everything.”
Timmy was mildly surprised, but not shocked. Pat Kemp was about the coolest older kid they knew, and Karen had a wild reputation as the stereotypical preacher 's daughter. He could easily see the two of them running off together.
“Where did they go?” he asked.
“Nobody knows for sure,” Doug whispered. “California, maybe?”
Timmy wondered if his friend was basing that on something he'd heard, or on his own wish fulfillment regarding his father.
Somebody sobbed loudly near the front of the church. The boys fell quiet.
“Sorry about your grandpa, man,” Barry finally said, staring at the floor.
Doug nodded. “Me, too. He was cool.”
Timmy mumbled his thanks, and then glanced around the church for his parents. They were near the front, shaking hands with mourners. His father was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. As he watched, the crowd parted, and Timmy got his first real glimpse of his grandfather's casket. He bit his lip, drawing blood, and his hands clenched into fists. The thing inside the coffin didn't look like the man he remembered. That man had been full of life, even in old age. He'd been funny, always smiling or telling jokes. The pale, waxy figure lying in the coffin wasn't smiling. It looked like a department store mannequin. Even his grandfather 's hair was combed differently. His Freemason's ring adorned his hand, the stone glinting under the lights. He was dressed in a suit. When had his grandfather ever worn a suit? Never, at least as far as Timmy could remember. He wore slacks and buttoned shirts with the sleeves rolled up. Even when he went to church, his grandfather had preferred sweaters to suits.
Doug sensed his friend's discomfort. “You gonna go up there? Your dad looks really upset.”
“I don't want to. Guess I should, though.”
His mother caught his eye and smiled sadly. Her expression alone beckoned him, a unique form of telepathy shared only by parents and their children. Reluctantly obeying the command, Timmy stood up.
“I'll see you guys later.”
He shuffled forward, weaving his way through the adults. They offered condolences as he passed by them, along with condescending pats on the head, as if he were six years old rather than twelve. Timmy did his best to be polite to them, but inside, he barely acknowledged their presence. His attention was fixed on the figure in the coffin, the thing that was supposed to be his grandfather.
Barry and Doug watched him go. Barry tugged at his tie. His collar felt like it was choking him, and even with the air conditioning turned on, the church was still hot inside.
Doug leaned over and whispered in Barry's ear.
“This sucks. I feel bad for him, but I don't know what to say.”
"Me neither. I've helped my old man with dozens of these. It's always weird, and you feel bad for the people, but there's not really anything to say. 'Sorry'just doesn't seem to cover it. Especially this time."
“Why now more than the others?”
“Because Timmy's our friend. And because his grandpa was pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” Doug agreed. “He was. I liked him.”
“Sometimes,” Barry said, “I think he was the only cool grown-up I knew.”
When they looked up again, the crowd of adults had swallowed Timmy whole.
Timmy had walked the
Spotting Timmy when he entered with his parents Barry and Doug walked over to him, and the three boys moved to the rear corner of the church. They made small talk, each uncomfortable with mentioning why they were there. Curious, Timmy asked them about Karen Moore 's whereabouts.
“You didn't hear?” Barry sounded surprised.
“No. What?”
“She skipped town with Pat Kemp. Nobody's seen them since Friday night. Took off together in his Nova. People are saying maybe they eloped.”
“No way. Seriously?”
Doug nodded. “Reverend Moore called the cops and everything.”
Timmy was mildly surprised, but not shocked. Pat Kemp was about the coolest older kid they knew, and Karen had a wild reputation as the stereotypical preacher 's daughter. He could easily see the two of them running off together.
“Where did they go?” he asked.
“Nobody knows for sure,” Doug whispered. “California, maybe?”
Timmy wondered if his friend was basing that on something he'd heard, or on his own wish fulfillment regarding his father.
Somebody sobbed loudly near the front of the church. The boys fell quiet.
“Sorry about your grandpa, man,” Barry finally said, staring at the floor.
Doug nodded. “Me, too. He was cool.”
Timmy mumbled his thanks, and then glanced around the church for his parents. They were near the front, shaking hands with mourners. His father was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. As he watched, the crowd parted, and Timmy got his first real glimpse of his grandfather's casket. He bit his lip, drawing blood, and his hands clenched into fists. The thing inside the coffin didn't look like the man he remembered. That man had been full of life, even in old age. He'd been funny, always smiling or telling jokes. The pale, waxy figure lying in the coffin wasn't smiling. It looked like a department store mannequin. Even his grandfather 's hair was combed differently. His Freemason's ring adorned his hand, the stone glinting under the lights. He was dressed in a suit. When had his grandfather ever worn a suit? Never, at least as far as Timmy could remember. He wore slacks and buttoned shirts with the sleeves rolled up. Even when he went to church, his grandfather had preferred sweaters to suits.
Doug sensed his friend's discomfort. “You gonna go up there? Your dad looks really upset.”
“I don't want to. Guess I should, though.”
His mother caught his eye and smiled sadly. Her expression alone beckoned him, a unique form of telepathy shared only by parents and their children. Reluctantly obeying the command, Timmy stood up.
“I'll see you guys later.”
He shuffled forward, weaving his way through the adults. They offered condolences as he passed by them, along with condescending pats on the head, as if he were six years old rather than twelve. Timmy did his best to be polite to them, but inside, he barely acknowledged their presence. His attention was fixed on the figure in the coffin, the thing that was supposed to be his grandfather.
Barry and Doug watched him go. Barry tugged at his tie. His collar felt like it was choking him, and even with the air conditioning turned on, the church was still hot inside.
Doug leaned over and whispered in Barry's ear.
“This sucks. I feel bad for him, but I don't know what to say.”
"Me neither. I've helped my old man with dozens of these. It's always weird, and you feel bad for the people, but there's not really anything to say. 'Sorry'just doesn't seem to cover it. Especially this time."
“Why now more than the others?”
“Because Timmy's our friend. And because his grandpa was pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” Doug agreed. “He was. I liked him.”
“Sometimes,” Barry said, “I think he was the only cool grown-up I knew.”
When they looked up again, the crowd of adults had swallowed Timmy whole.
Timmy had walked the
Similar Books
