They find Jack like this, they'll think it's the Spanos. Dad'll send guys over there. They'll send guys back. A fucking war. Oh, Christ.
Tom? says Markie. You can think what to do later. You guys have to get the fuck out of here now.
Us guys? says Jimmy.
Yeah, says Markie. You gotta go.
The sirens wail louder.
Markie pushes them, both of them, to the edge of the plywood floor. Jimmy thinks,
Wait, Jimmy says. Stop. He looks at Tom, at Markie; at Jack, sprawled on the unfinished floor. He wants to take it all in, until he knows what to do. He doesn't know what to do.
Markie says, Jimmy, the Job. You want to stay on the Job? You think that's gonna happen, they find you here?
There's a sweep of lights in the trees.
Jim, says Tom. Jimmy, man?
They look at each other, Tom and Jimmy. Jimmy's looking for that light Tom gets in his eyes, the thing that says he had a smart idea, he knows the answer. Looking for it, but doesn't see it.
Markie jumps down, says, Come on, you guys, come on. Tom jumps, too. They both stand looking up at Jimmy.
Just before he jumps, just before he runs, Jimmy looks up through the roof beams, up at the sky, like maybe something there can help him know what to do.
The moon's gone.
BOYS' OWN BOOK
Chapter 16
Markie, man, you're fucking crazy!
Jimmy's said these words a million times before, on the playground, in the classroom, in someone's backyard. He's saying them now, again, from the shotgun seat of Markie's car. The ragtop's down, Tom's in the back, the sun's hot even though it's early in the morning and it glitters on the water just beyond the dead end where they're parked.
Jimmy's thinking about last night. Tom and Markie are, too, Jimmy knows that, how can they think about anything else? Last night's like a huge tall building when you're standing right in front of it, it fills up the world and there's nothing else there.
Last night: Jimmy and Markie and Tom run through the woods as cop car headlights stab into the half-built houses on Coleman Road. They leave Jack on the plywood floor, to be found and photographed and taken away by men who don't like him, men whose job it is to find who killed him but who will give each other little cold smiles when they hear he's dead.
This is fucked, Jimmy says last night, when they circle around to Markie's car, the ragtop parked in the turn-off, the vinyl filled with tree shadows. I can't— He stops. He doesn't know what he can't do. Or what he can.
Yeah, says Tom. I know. Just till morning, man. Give me till morning, I have to think.
Jimmy knows what Tom's thinking about: his mom. Jack, it's too late, there's no thinking that'll help Jack now. Tom's doing what he always does, pushing right past the problem he can't solve, looking for the one he can do something about.
And Jimmy's thinking about the Job. About what Markie said would happen if anyone knew Jimmy was there when Jack got killed.
Jesus, man, Jimmy says.
But he doesn't say, No.
When Jimmy gets home, Marian's asleep. He takes a shower, pounding and cold, like sometimes at the firehouse after a run, most of the guys soaping off in hot steamy water but Jimmy thinking hot water's a lot like fire, how can it wash away what fire leaves behind? The shower he takes tonight is hard and icy, but it doesn't feel like it washes anything away.
He gets into bed very quietly. Marian turns, smiles in her sleep. He kisses her, puts his arm over her, pretends to fall asleep right away.
An hour later the phone rings.
Marian jumps, and Jimmy does, too, though as soon as he hears it, he knows he's been expecting it. Marian's eyes are worried, she watches him while he answers, because nothing good ever comes from a phone call in the middle of the night.
It's Tom. He's talking quietly, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear. The cops were here, he says.
Jimmy doesn't say anything, waits for Tom.
They came to tell me about Jack, Tom says. And Jimmy, man? Shit, Jimmy. Markie, says Tom. Markie confessed.
