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abruptly.
    He remembered that Retta had told him they could never go to the colonel’s again, but that was probably just to throw him off the track. He got to his feet. The tears were drying on his cheeks. He went slowly down the steps.
    As he stood on the last step, scarcely breathing, a wonderful plan came to him. He would sneak up to the colonel’s house and spy on Retta and Johnny and Arthur. He was, it seemed to him, the only one who had not done any spying. They would see him in the shadows, he went on, and be terrified. He would feel no mercy. Abruptly he strode down the sidewalk in his striped pajamas.
    At the edge of the street he stopped, struck dumb with an even better idea. When he got to the colonel’s and saw that Johnny and Retta and Arthur were in the pool, he would run forward, whooping and yelling as Johnny had done, and dive in with them.
    The picture of Johnny running across the lawn, not caring about anything or anybody, had impressed him deeply. It had seemed the kind of grown-up thing that he himself had never been able to do. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never feel more awe and respect for anyone than he had for Johnny as he launched himself off the diving board in that perfect cannonball.
    The brilliance of his own plan washed over him. Arthur and Johnny and Retta would be in the pool, swimming quietly, trying not to splash. They would hear the sound of running. They would look up, mouths open, as he dashed forward. Before they knew what had happened, he would be launched off the diving board in the same fearless cannonball.
    He hurried down the sidewalk. He no longer felt the twigs and stones beneath his bare feet.
    “Ro-oooooy,” Retta would say. He could hear her in his mind. He mimicked her as he walked, wagging his head from side to side. “Ro-ooooy!”
    And Arthur—Arthur would be especially impressed because Arthur would not know he was copying something Johnny had done.
    The pleasant dream continued. Retta would herd them all out of the swimming pool, and the four of them would run across the lawn, bonded together in their escape. Behind them the lights would be coming on in the colonel’s house.
    “Faster!” he would call back to the others. He himself would be in the lead at this point. “Come on!” The thought of being in the lead for the first time in his life made him shudder with pleasure.
    The colonel’s house appeared in the distance, big and white in the trees. Roy began to walk slower. He moved closer to the fence. There was a little smile on his face. His heart was beating so hard that he put his hand over his chest to make swallowing easier.
    He climbed the fence by the trees as Retta had taught him to do. Overhead, the moon was hidden by a cloud, and he waited in the darkness, so tense and expectant that his knees were trembling. He swallowed again.
    Bending, he began to creep toward the pool, a short stooped figure in wrinkled pajamas. He paused, lifted his head. He could not see what was happening in the pool, but he could hear the faint sound of splashing.
    Still stooping, he ran forward. He crossed the clearing and paused by an azalea bush. He peered through the foliage with one hand over his eyes.
    They were in the pool. He could hear them swimming. He straightened and drew in his breath. He moved his feet back and forth on the lawn, like a cartoon character getting ready to run.
    Surprise is everything, he told himself. It’s got to be a surprise. He leaped out from behind the bush and started running for the pool.
    Running across the lawn was wonderful. He felt powerful for the first time in his life. He didn’t care about anything or anybody. He surprised himself by leaping up and letting out a whoop of joy.
    He crossed the tiled patio, taking smaller steps now. He didn’t want to slip. He headed for the diving board. He had a rush of panic as he ran to the end—he had never even been on a diving board before—but by taking tiny steps he managed