Read Online Jack's Black Book by Jack Gantos - Free Book Online Page B

tossed in a padded cell.” He flipped the pieces back over his shoulder and they blew across the sand. “Now give me back my ten-spot.”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “I worked really hard.”
    He stuck out his open hand. “I’ll count to three,” he growled. “One.”
    I stood up. “I did what you asked,” I said.
    â€œTwo.”
    â€œI did the best I could. I’m not the governor. I can’t write you out a pardon.”
    â€œThree!” He lunged forward and pulled the typewriter out of my hands.
    â€œNo!” I yelled as he spun around and ran down the beach with the typewriter held overhead.
    â€œCome back with that,” I shouted.
    I was too late. He waded into the water and heaved the typewriter about twenty feet farther out, past the drop-off.At first the machine, in its closed case, floated and bobbed up and down on the waves. Then slowly it began to tilt to one side and sink, going down like the
Titanic.
I dove for it. The water was all sandy, and it disappeared before I could reach the spot.
    I came up for air and looked back at the bully. He was a big single-celled blob that hadn’t evolved.
    â€œLet this be a lesson to you for now,” he shouted. “I’ll get my ten bucks later.”
    I hated people who tried to teach me a lesson. I was going to say something that would probably get me killed, but at that moment I spotted Pete and my mind went spinning out of control.
    He was tapping his way across the beach with a fake blind man’s walking stick made out of a painted cane fishing pole. On his face he had a pair of huge wrap-around sunglasses that were tinted so dark I couldn’t see his eyes. Hanging from his neck was the old Polaroid camera. He tapped a few more feet, then hollered, “Get your picture taken. Two dollars. Have a lifetime souvenir of you and your loved ones on Fort Lauderdale beach for only two dollars.”
    No wonder Mom was concerned about his behavior. And if Dad found out about this he’d have the stick and I’d be the rat. “Over here!” I hollered, as I dog-paddled toward the shore. “Hey, blind boy, over here!”
    â€œI’ll be right there to take your picture, sir,” he shouted, and waved his arms around. “Don’t move.”
    He stirred up the sand with his cane as he clumsilymade his way toward me. I wanted to kill him. But then I thought better of punching him in the head in front of people who might really think he was blind. They’d probably beat me to a pulp, and pamper him.
    â€œWhat are you up to?” I growled when I got my hands on his shoulders.
    He rotated his head back and forth, and smiled widely.
    â€œThis is not what I meant by evolution,” I said. “What you are doing is criminal. Mark my words,” I stressed. “This is going to lead to trouble.”
    â€œIt’ll lead to big money,” he said. “See.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “I bet you don’t make this from writing postcards.”
    I snatched the money out of his hands and began to count. “Wow,” I said. “Sixteen bucks.” I put it in my pocket.
    â€œSome fish were smarter than others,” he replied. “I’m already on my second box of film. Watch this.”
    He tapped a zigzag path through the beach crowd. I watched as he whacked a few of the sleeping sunbathers on the butt with his pole. They flipped over with a shout and he began to apologize wildly. Then he acted as if he had gotten turned around and began tapping his way directly toward the crashing waves. The people he had whacked saw him as he sloped down toward the water and they ran to catch him and turn him in the proper direction. I didn’t hear what he said next, but in a moment he had them all lined up and was preparing to take their picture.
    I couldn’t stand still any longer. I’ve created a