Arthur’s lip curled up. “What’s that?”
“It’s a cult movie,” she said. “Or like
I explained, in case Arthur didn’t know, “That’s a book. A little kid rides on a big kid’s shoulders.” Then I added, “Or like Banjo Kazooie.”
It was Wendy’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s that?”
“Video game. It’s the same idea. Smart bird rides on dumb bear’s shoulders.”
“Yeah.”
Arthur looked offended. “I ain’t doin’ that. I’m smart
Wendy smiled. “Fine. Those were just suggestions. A lot of the college guys are coming as zombies. All you have to do is wear something that makes you look like you just crawled out of the grave. Most guys around here dress like that anyway.”
I told Mom a version of the truth: that some of the kids from the counseling group had been invited to Mrs. Lyle’s for a Halloween party. I didn’t mention that it was at Blackwater University. Lilly, after some serious pleading, backed me up. Or at least she didn’t rat me out.
So, at 7:00 p.m., I was standing outside on Sunbury Street in the dark, wearing my grossest climb-out-of- the-grave zombie clothes.
I expected Arthur to pick me up in Jimmy’s truck, but he pulled up in a three-door midnight-blue hatchback. I opened the passenger-side door. “What’s this?”
“This,” he explained with pride, “is a 1997 Geo Metro.”
“You just got it?”
“Just picked it up. I ain’t even been home yet.”
“Cool.”
“It’s a genuine Chevrolet, cuz, even if it is made by Suzuki.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but I did. “How did you ever pay for this?”
He answered as if it should be obvious, “With my money.”
“Your money? But you don’t have a job.”
“I have something better than a job. I have an income.”
A dark thought crossed my mind:
“From the Social Security Administration,” he explained. “I get a check every month. It started on the day my father died, and it will end on the day I turn eighteen.”
I was relieved. I asked him, “When do you turn eighteen?”
“February second. That’s two/two. And check it out: Next year, it will be two/two/two. Deuces wild, man! That’s what I’m gonna have tattooed on my arm.”
We rode in silence for a few moments through the chilly October night. As we rose up into the foothills, I asked him, “Would you mind turning the heat on?”
“Heat? Why do you need the heat on?”
“Let’s see.… To survive?”
“But you’re indoors.”
“I’m inside a tin can. A freezing tin can.”
“Well, this just ain’t your night, cuz. The heat don’t work. So I guess you’re not gonna survive.”
I resigned myself to a long, cold ride.
Our first stop was Arthur’s house. This was my first trip to the condemned trailer where he lives with his mother and stepfather and stepbrother, Cody.
We turned off the highway and continued up a dirt road for about fifty yards. Arthur made a right turn, and we inched up a gravel hill. I saw a pair of trailers in the headlights. I stared at them closely, taking in all I could.
Aunt Robin’s trailer was in front. It was made of white metal held together with some rusty screws. I’d say it was forty feet across and twenty feet deep—not a bad size. It had a painted brown door in the center, flanked by two windows covered with thick plastic sheeting.
The steps beneath the front door were improvised. They were made from two wooden pallets—like the kind Food Giant orders come in, but sawed off to fit.
A bright porch light illuminated a strange collection of items spread across the ground, Cody’s baby toys and some other things. As we pulled closer, I could see orange plastic ducks and matching plastic rings, probably from a bath set. There were body parts from two or three Transformers, as well as Nerf balls, Wiffle balls, and a plastic bat.
I was shocked, though, by a few of the nontoy items.
These items had obviously been made from a stolen shopping cart—probably from the Food Giant. There was a low, square movers’ dolly made out of four metal wheels and the slats from a wooden pallet. There was a half-full firewood basket, which had once been the main section of a shopping cart. It was missing its hinged, movable side. That’s because that piece of metal was now the grill for a hibachi, sitting there on top of a ring of concrete blocks.
Bobby Smalls would have been horrified. But I had to admit it was all pretty clever.
I couldn’t see Warren’s trailer very well. It sat another thirty yards behind Aunt Robin’s and on a higher elevation. It looked narrower by perhaps ten feet across. As far as I could tell, it had no debris around it.
We parked near the right corner of the first trailer and got out. Just as Arthur reached the front door, someone pulled it open from the inside. Arthur backed up to let Warren step out, followed by Jimmy.
They both smiled at me and said, “Hey, Tom,” almost in unison.
Warren was holding an item I recognized from the Food Giant—a fifty-count box of Ziploc freezer bags. He pointed to the driveway and smiled hugely. “Whoa! Check out the new ride!”
Arthur grinned. “Yeah.”
Warren asked Jimmy, “Is that the one you told me about, bubba? From Primrose?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Sweet.” Warren winked at me, but he spoke to Arthur. “Now I don’t have to drive you to football games? And sit there and watch you lose?”
“Nope. I guess not.”
Warren then looked from Arthur to me. “So what are you two gentlemen up to tonight? You goin’ joyriding?”
Arthur replied, “We’re heading up to the college.”
“The college? What for?”
Arthur smiled. “Tom’s got a girlfriend there.”
Warren poked my ribs with the box. “Is that right, Tom? You’re dating a college girl?”
I protested, “She’s not my girlfriend. And she doesn’t go to the college. She just lives there with her family.”
Arthur corrected himself. “I should say we are going to a party at the college, a Halloween party, invited by a friend of Tom’s, who just happens to be a girl.”
I nodded my approval. “There you go.”
Warren asked Jimmy, “Remember the time we went up there, bubba? With Ralph? And the Cowley brothers?”
“I do indeed.”
“That was some night.”
“Amen to that.”
I asked them, “Did you go there for a party?”
Warren replied, “Not hardly, young Tom. We went there for a fight.”
Arthur, who rarely looked surprised at anything, looked shocked. “A fight? Why don’t I know about this?”
