They laughed louder.
Jack did his best to ignore them as he reset his grip and repeated the same
process, except this time he backed up only three inches. Again he raised it high and swung, putting his back as well as his arms into it.
The mallet head caught the outer edge of the board, sending the weight
shooting all the way to the top. As the sound of the bell rang through the air, Jack dropped the mallet.
“You don?t get no prize,” the carny said, “because you didn?t hit the pad. Y?gotta
hit the pad.”
Jack didn?t care. He?d just wanted to see if he could do it. He shoved his hands in
his pockets and walked away without looking at Weezy and company. Didn?t have to.
Their silence said it all. He didn?t wait for her. It definitely would not be cool for her to walk away with the frosh who?d just one-upped Carson Toliver.
But halfway to the entrance she appeared beside him.
“I saw what you did,” she said.
He glanced at her. She was grinning.
“And what would that be?”
“Hit the end of the board. Nerds know levers.”
Jack resented that. “Nerd, huh? I guess I left my taped glasses and pocket
protector home.”
“Maybe nerd?s not the right word. How about misfit? You?re into things most kids
wouldn?t understand. Your mind works differently. I should know. I?m the same. But
you know how to hide it.”
“I don?t hide anything.”
Well … maybe a few things.
“Yeah, you do. You don?t even know you do. Kids just think of you as kind of a
loner. Me … they think I?m weird. But I?m learning how to hide it.”
“Why?”
She glanced back at the kids she?d left behind. “Because sometimes I wish …” “Wish you were like them?”
“Not
She shrugged. “Maybe. I?d like the chance to compare. You ever feel that way?” Jack thought about that. It took only a second.
“No.”
“Never?”
He shook his head. “Never even occurred to me. And I?m surprised to hear you
talking like this. It?s not you. You always seemed so … happy with who you are.” “Happy?”
She looked away. “I don?t know if I?ve ever been happy.” “Sure you have.”
“Okay. Yes. I was happiest when I had the pyramid. And I was happy just now
to see you ring that bell.” She gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Brain beats brawn every time, right?”
“Not every time, but it?s got a good win-loss record.”
She heaved a theatrical sigh and slipped her arm through his as they walked. “My hero.”
He had to laugh at her unpredictability. Her warm skin tingled against his and
made for a nice end to a mostly crappy day.
Really? Then Jack was going to get it back for her, one way or another.
MONDAY
1
Jack?s father slammed on the brakes in their driveway.
“What the hell?”
He?d been leaving for work the same time as Jack this morning and offered him a
ride down to the bus stop. He worked as an accountant for Price Water house in Cherry Hill and sometimes their departures coincided.
Now he gaped at their lawn where the VIVINO
FOR FREEHOLDER sign lay in tatters.
He stared a few heartbeats longer, then looked at Jack. “Was that like that when you came home last night?”
Jack shook his head. “Looked just fine when I rolled past.”
Very true. Jack didn?t mention that after he?d parked his bike in the garage he?d walked back and torn the sign to shreds.
He noticed something and used it to change the subject.
“Hey, where?s the Frisbee?”
They?d left it in the oak that grew curbside and spread over the street and the front yard. But the spot where it had lodged was empty.
“Must have fallen out during the night.”
Jack scanned the front lawn. The disk was bright yellow. If there it would have been easily visible.
“Yeah, but it?s not there.”
His father made a sour face. “Maybe whoever tore up the sign took it.” He shook his head as he gave the car some gas. “People … I?ll never understand them. Who on earth would stop and go to the trouble to tear up Al?s sign?”
Jack shrugged. “Someone who doesn?t like him, I guess.”
2
Jack?s father accelerated away toward Cherry Hill, leaving him alone at the high school bus stop. Nobody else even in sight yet.
Southern Burlington County Regional High School—known as SBC Regional or just plain SBR
for short—lay only three miles south of Johnson. Jack had wanted to ride his bike to school when the weather was decent but his folks put the kibosh on that.
His mother worried about him riding on the rutted, two-lane blacktop of Route 206. Jack had explained that he knew back roads and paths that would keep him off the highway most of the way. She hadn?t bought it.
Dad?s objection was that he needed the “socialization” the bus provided. Jack got the impression Dad thought he was too much of a loner and that the bus would force him to meet new kids. In other words, “socialize.”
He didn?t know the Connells? reasons for not wanting their kids to bike to school, but Weezy and Eddie wound up at the bus stop every morning just like Jack.
He knew of ten kids from Johnson who went to SBR. Steve Brussard, who?d been a good friend until the crazy events of last month, would have made eleven, but his mother had placed him in some private school for kids with problems. Of the ten, four of them either had cars—like Carson Toliver—or knew someone who did. The less fortunate remaining half dozen gathered by the vacant lot near the blinker light at the intersection of Quakerton Road and 206, in front of Sumter?s used car lot. The cars were still there, the little red-and-yellow pennants still fluttered on their wires, but the place had been closed since Mr. Sumter?s sudden death last month. He too had been a Lodge member.
For the previous eight years Jack had waited by the vacant lot across the street for one of the grade-school buses, heading north.
The other two corners were occupied by Joe Burdett?s Esso station and a Krauszer?s
convenience store. Jack figured the Krauszer?s would come in handy for a pre-bus coffee or hot chocolate when the weather turned cold.
The lot and the shoulder were puddled from yesterday?s rain. Cody Bockman posters clung to the poles supporting the blinker light over the intersection.
