Read Online Raising Stony Mayhall by Daryl Gregory - Free Book Online
Authors: Daryl Gregory
Ads: Link
really?”
“Well, it’s more of a guideline than a rule.”
But the kid was staring over Stony’s shoulder. “Hide the beer!”
Blue and red lights flashed behind them. Stony turned, still not understanding, and then the panic struck like a black sledgehammer. He saw the squad car and thought, The police have come for me.
Stony looked to Kwang, but he was jamming a beer can into the center of the spare tire—all the boys were frantically hiding evidence. The pickup pulled onto the shoulder. The squad car parked behind them, leaving its lights on. Stonywatched helplessly as an officer climbed out of the car. Stony thought, I am still in disguise. Do nothing, say nothing.
The cop flipped on a big flashlight and said, “What are you boys up to this evening?”
Brett and the driver of the truck had stepped out of the cab. Brett smiled and said, “No good, Officer Tines.”
The driver said, “We were just riding around. Seeing the costumes.”
“Uh huh.” Officer Tines shined the light over the faces. The beam seemed to rest on Stony’s face longer than the others, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and scream.
“Everybody out,” Tines said. “And hand over your IDs.”
The boys began to climb down, and Stony followed, trying not to rip his costume further. What road were they on? They were somewhere on the north side of town, in a neighborhood of new, larger houses cut into the cornfields. That would put him how far from home—four miles? Five?
Officer Tines went down the line, collecting licenses and school IDs. Stony had nothing. He needed to run, but he couldn’t move. And then the cop came to him.
“I … I don’t have my ID with me,” Stony said.
Tines aimed the light into Stony’s eyes. “Are you wearing
contacts
?” Stony didn’t know how to answer. The cop said, “Take off the toilet paper, kid.”
Stony looked at Kwang, but his friend only stared back, eyes wide, perhaps as frightened as he was. Stony reached up, pulled a clump of tissue away, then another. One of the boys in line said, “Jesus Christ.”
The cop leaned forward. “You kind of overdid it, don’t you think?”
“He’s from France,” Turk or Torque said.
“Shut up,” Tines said. Then to Stony: “Where now?”
“He means Wisconsin,” Stony said. “It just sounds French.”
“La Croix?”
Stony blinked. Of course, La Croix! That almost made sense. “Yes sir.”
“Right.” He stared hard at Stony’s face. “Go stand over there.” He pointed to the patch of grass near his squad car. “The rest of you—any of you been drinking?”
Stony walked over to the car, still stunned that the cop hadn’t pulled out his gun. He looked back. The cop was studying each of the licenses in the light of his flashlight, then asking questions. Behind him in the brightly lit neighborhood, a group of kids had gathered to watch the excitement. On the other side of the road was a row of three houses, and beyond that, a wall of darkness: fields dense with tall October corn.
Officer Tines glanced back at him. Stony looked at his feet.
“Officer?” Kwang said loudly. “Officer!” He stepped up to the man, one arm raised. “I think I’m drunk.” And then he pitched forward into Officer Tines’s arms.
Stony stared at them for a long moment, then realized what Kwang was doing for him.
Stony crossed the road in five strides, then leaped across the ditch to the front yard of the first house. He listened for cries of alarm, for gunshots, but he heard nothing but the sound of his own feet. He aimed for the space between the house and the garage, moving faster than he’d ever moved in his life. When he reached the edge of the field he kept running.
He did not become winded, because he did not breathe. He did not tire, because he was too frightened to remember to be tired. But he did become completely lost.
At some point he slowed to a walk. He stripped off the last of the crêpe paper and tissue, leaving
“Well, it’s more of a guideline than a rule.”
But the kid was staring over Stony’s shoulder. “Hide the beer!”
Blue and red lights flashed behind them. Stony turned, still not understanding, and then the panic struck like a black sledgehammer. He saw the squad car and thought, The police have come for me.
Stony looked to Kwang, but he was jamming a beer can into the center of the spare tire—all the boys were frantically hiding evidence. The pickup pulled onto the shoulder. The squad car parked behind them, leaving its lights on. Stonywatched helplessly as an officer climbed out of the car. Stony thought, I am still in disguise. Do nothing, say nothing.
The cop flipped on a big flashlight and said, “What are you boys up to this evening?”
Brett and the driver of the truck had stepped out of the cab. Brett smiled and said, “No good, Officer Tines.”
The driver said, “We were just riding around. Seeing the costumes.”
“Uh huh.” Officer Tines shined the light over the faces. The beam seemed to rest on Stony’s face longer than the others, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and scream.
“Everybody out,” Tines said. “And hand over your IDs.”
The boys began to climb down, and Stony followed, trying not to rip his costume further. What road were they on? They were somewhere on the north side of town, in a neighborhood of new, larger houses cut into the cornfields. That would put him how far from home—four miles? Five?
Officer Tines went down the line, collecting licenses and school IDs. Stony had nothing. He needed to run, but he couldn’t move. And then the cop came to him.
“I … I don’t have my ID with me,” Stony said.
Tines aimed the light into Stony’s eyes. “Are you wearing
contacts
?” Stony didn’t know how to answer. The cop said, “Take off the toilet paper, kid.”
Stony looked at Kwang, but his friend only stared back, eyes wide, perhaps as frightened as he was. Stony reached up, pulled a clump of tissue away, then another. One of the boys in line said, “Jesus Christ.”
The cop leaned forward. “You kind of overdid it, don’t you think?”
“He’s from France,” Turk or Torque said.
“Shut up,” Tines said. Then to Stony: “Where now?”
“He means Wisconsin,” Stony said. “It just sounds French.”
“La Croix?”
Stony blinked. Of course, La Croix! That almost made sense. “Yes sir.”
“Right.” He stared hard at Stony’s face. “Go stand over there.” He pointed to the patch of grass near his squad car. “The rest of you—any of you been drinking?”
Stony walked over to the car, still stunned that the cop hadn’t pulled out his gun. He looked back. The cop was studying each of the licenses in the light of his flashlight, then asking questions. Behind him in the brightly lit neighborhood, a group of kids had gathered to watch the excitement. On the other side of the road was a row of three houses, and beyond that, a wall of darkness: fields dense with tall October corn.
Officer Tines glanced back at him. Stony looked at his feet.
“Officer?” Kwang said loudly. “Officer!” He stepped up to the man, one arm raised. “I think I’m drunk.” And then he pitched forward into Officer Tines’s arms.
Stony stared at them for a long moment, then realized what Kwang was doing for him.
Stony crossed the road in five strides, then leaped across the ditch to the front yard of the first house. He listened for cries of alarm, for gunshots, but he heard nothing but the sound of his own feet. He aimed for the space between the house and the garage, moving faster than he’d ever moved in his life. When he reached the edge of the field he kept running.
He did not become winded, because he did not breathe. He did not tire, because he was too frightened to remember to be tired. But he did become completely lost.
At some point he slowed to a walk. He stripped off the last of the crêpe paper and tissue, leaving
Similar Books
