The Traveling Vampire Show

“Maybe Lee, too. Maybe she got in the shower with Slim to help wash her back.”

I saw it in my mind. Rusty was obviously seeing it in his mind, too, and I didn’t like that. I stepped up close to him—so close that our stomach’s touched—and looked him in the eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “Forget it. Never mind.” He backed away and sank onto the sofa.

After a while, I calmed down. I walked to the other side of the room and sat in an armchair.

We both sat in silence.

Rusty was careful not to look at me.

The water kept rushing through the pipes.

Chapter Twenty-two

When the water shut off, Rusty lifted his head and looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re not so pure, that’s all. You’re no purer than me, you’re just scared of getting caught.”

“Up yours.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Shut up, okay? They might be able to hear us.”

He closed his mouth and gave me a smug, knowing smile. He knew he was right, and I knew he wasn’t far from wrong.

We didn’t say anything else. After a while, we heard a door unlatch. Then came quiet footsteps and voices.

Lee saying, “I’ll have to give him a try.”

Slim saying, “I’ve got an extra copy of The Temple of Gold I can let you read.”

“Great.”

“I’ll bring it over sometime.”

Then they walked into the living room. Lee, dressed the same as before, was carrying my sneakers, Rusty’s shirt, and a brown paper grocery bag with its top crumpled shut.

Slim, with nothing in her hands, had the clean, fresh look of someone who’d just taken a bath or shower. She wore clothes that must’ve belonged to Lee: a loose white T-shirt, red shorts, white crew socks and white sneakers. The T-shirt completely covered her shorts, but I could see through it enough to tell their color. I could also tell where bandages had been applied, and that she no longer wore her bikini top.

Her bikini and cut-off jeans were probably in the grocery bag Lee was carrying.

Evidently, Lee didn’t own a bra in Slim’s size.

When I realized I was staring at Slim’s chest, I quickly turned my eyes to Lee. “How’d it go?” I asked.

“I think she’ll live. But since she refuses to see a doctor, I guess she’ll have to go stitchless.”

“My cuts aren’t that bad,” Slim said.

“They aren’t that good, either.” Lee dropped the sneakers in front of my feet, stepped toward the sofa and tossed the shirt to Rusty.

While I put on my shoes and Rusty put on his shirt, Lee set the grocery sack on the coffee table. Then she sank onto the sofa beside Rusty, settled back against the cushion, swung her legs onto the coffee table and crossed her ankles. She sighed as if relieved to be off her feet.

Still fastening his buttons, Rusty turned his head and stared down at her.

Life was suddenly good again for him.

Lee glanced at him, smiled, then said to all of us, “The kitchen floor’s gotta be dry by now. If anyone wants a Coke or something, feel free. I’m not moving, though. You’ll have to help yourselves.”

None of us spoke up.

Slim walked past me. She smelled like a strange, wonderful combination of lemons and marshmallows. Through the back of her T-shirt, I saw eight or ten bandages. She went to a wicker chair near the lamp table and sat down. Perched near the front of the seat, she folded her hands on her lap and kept her back straight.

Glancing from Slim to me, Lee asked, “So, all set for tonight?”

Slim hadn’t told her about the dog?

“Not sure yet,” I said.

“We’re still working on it,” said Rusty. He gave Slim a perplexed look.

Slim’s shoulders moved slightly.

Rusty returned his gaze to Lee’s slumped, lounging body. “Any ideas?” he asked her.

“Nothing spectacular. Anyway, I think you should work it out for yourselves.”

Looking at me, Rusty said, “I can get permission to sleep over at your house. Your mom and dad still go to bed at ten?”

“Around then.”

“So we wait till they hit the sack, then we sneak out.”

“I don’t know about sneaking out,” I said.

“It’ll work. It’s always worked before.”

I could’ve killed him for saying that in front of Lee.

She looked at me and lifted her eyebrows. She seemed amused and curious.

“We didn’t do anything much,” I told her.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell.”

“I know.”

“But I’d like to hear about it sometime.”

“Sure.”

“And I’ll tell you about the times I used to sneak out at night.”

“I’d like to hear that,” Rusty said.

She lifted a hand off her belly, reached over and patted him on the leg.

His face went crimson.

Mine probably did, too.

“We’ll see,” she told him.

“If we have to sneak out of someone’s house,” I said to Rusty, “why not yours? Why does it always have to be my house?”

“I’m already invited for supper,” he pointed out.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“I’ll already be there.”

“Right. So then I explain how you’ve asked me to spend the night at your place. And then we go over there after…”

“Just can’t wait to see Bitsy again, huh?”

I grunted as if I’d been slugged in the stomach. “Oh yeah,” I muttered.

“I’m sure she’d love to see you….”

“Never mind.”

“Here’s how to work it,” Slim suddenly said.

I gaped at her.

Rusty actually went, “Huh?”

“Dwight, you tell your parents you’ve been asked to spend the night at Rusty’s house. Rusty, you tell yours that you’re invited to stay at Dwight’s. Then you both come over to my house.”

Stunned again, I mumbled, “Your house?”

“It’ll be perfect,” she said.

I pictured the mess in her mother’s bedroom.

“I don’t get it,” Rusty asked. “Why do we wanta go to your house?”