Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 43, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1998
- Автор: Alexander Gary, Crawford Dan
- Год: 1998
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines/Crosstown Publications
- ISBN: ISSN: 0002-5224
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 43, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1998». Краткое содержание книги:
“Hey, Sawyer!” one especially loud and obnoxious voice cried out. “Got tossed, didn’t you, for saying some bad words in Mr. Frakes’ class?” I heard a rap on the glass when someone hit it as they went by. I jumped up at the same time a nearby secretary did.
“Did you see who that was?” she demanded.
“No, ma’am, didn’t see,” I answered. I wanted to add, “And I wouldn’t tell you even if I had,” but I kept my mouth shut.
“Don’t even know this kid,” I heard Mr. Sharpe say as his door flew open. He was looking at me with those hawk eyes and those tiger teeth. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him, Sergeant Valari. Never seen him in my office before, never had a complaint from any teacher about him. In fact—” He was holding an open manila folder full of green- and blue-edged papers. Report cards. “Mr. Sawyer’s even made the honor roll seven terms out of eight and was nominated twice as student of the month.” He glared down at me. “Hard to believe after what Mr. Frakes told me happened in chemistry class.”
“Hard to believe,” Jake echoed with a sigh. His small bright eyes were on me, too.
“Also been a peer counselor, worked as an elementary tutor for kids with special needs—” the assistant principal was running out of breath as he flipped through my folder some more “—and according to his seventh and eighth grade teachers—” he looked at Jake in surprise “—has even assisted the police on a few occasions.” He looked at me, then at Jake. “That true?”
“It’s true,” Jake said. “Hard as that is to believe, too.”
“So I did that big a crime they had to call the police?” I asked as I threw my school bag over my shoulder and followed Jake out to the school parking lot. I don’t know why I said that, it only added more grief to what I had coming.
Except, instead of yelling at me, Jake said, “Your mother called me.”
“Really?” I replied. “Hard to believe.”
I could see he was holding his temper, but at that moment I didn’t really care. Maybe I just didn’t care about anything, which was a really strange feeling for me. I’d been afraid, just briefly, in Mr. Sharpe’s office because I’d been anticipating my mother’s reaction to all this. I’d also been anticipating Jake’s, but now that I saw him I wasn’t afraid any more. He was just a cop, a sergeant on the small local police force, who used to date my mother until he dumped her six weeks ago for another woman. And knowing that, seeing him there to take me home, it seemed ironic suddenly, almost ludicrous that she’d call him.
“Yes, Herbie, she called me,” he explained. “She tried to get hold of Elmer Hornton...”
Suddenly I felt my heart sink, and any bravado I was about to display to Jake melted away. Elmer Hornton was a close friend, a good friend, someone I’d always depended on. He was an elderly man who lived two streets over from my mother and me. He was also a retired signpainter. I often did small jobs for him.
“But Elmer wasn’t at home,” Jake said. “Your mother’s pretty upset, Herbie. Why did you do this?”
I didn’t answer. I walked on toward his car, a custom red Firebird with a long scrape down the passenger side door. The rear fender on the same side looked like a ten ton truck had plowed into it.
“Hey, Jake, what happened?” But then it came back, that false sense of bravery that I could say anything I wanted to, since there was nothing worse he could do to me that he hadn’t done already. So even though I knew — this is a small town; it’d been in the papers — that his new girlfriend had borrowed his car and been sideswiped at an intersection a week ago by a pickup, I said, “Looks like somebody banged up your precious Mercury Firebird pretty good, huh?”
Did I say Jake was pushing fifty? And that he was a big guy? But not heavy with flab; no, he was one of those men they call “robust” or “sturdy”; he was also surprisingly fast when he wanted to be. So fast I barely saw him coming as he grabbed me and slammed me against his car.
But it was all for effect. Jake didn’t hurt me, though I’m sure anyone looking out the windows of the principal’s office might have seen it differently. In fact, I probably could have gotten an assault charge out of it — police sergeant shoving a minor kid up against his car — if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to, he’d made his point.
“For a smart kid,” he said to me, his face just inches from mine, “you can be pretty stupid sometimes. It’s a Pontiac Firebird, and I know you’re mad at me and I hope to hell it hasn’t got anything to do with what went on in there.” A glance back at my school. “Because it’s a lame excuse, Herbie, for saying what you did in that chemistry class.” Then he backed off. “Get in the car. I’m taking you home.”
Silence for three or four minutes, and then I said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s an easy thing to say,” he told me, “but not so easy to mean sometimes.”
“Look, I’ve been having problems,” I replied irritably. “What do you want from me? Mr. Frakes caught me off guard. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Mr. Frakes caught you off guard? What the heck are you talking about? It’s what — Wednesday in the second week of school for God’s sake — and you’ve already got a five-day suspension. Pardon me if I say what the—” (and I’ll delete the word, even though it’s the same one that got me into so much trouble) “—is wrong with you?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t know what he... what the class was doing. Safety or something, and lab equipment. Anyway, he asked me something about the stupid Bunsen burner, and it just came out of my mouth. Look, I’ll apologize to him. I’ll apologize to the whole class if it makes you happy.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late?” he said, glancing at me as we slowed down at a red light. “There are girls in that class, Herbie.”
“Like they’ve never heard the word before.”
“Not from you they haven’t.”
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Meet me, Mr. Perfect, never says and never does anything he shouldn’t. Mr. Yes Sir, No Sir. I’m just a model to the whole community, aren’t I? But what’s it get me, Jake? You and Mom are split up. She’s dating some jerk over in Northport.”
“Heard he was a firefighter.”
“Assistant fire chief, who cares?” I snapped back. “And now she’s thinking of selling our house and moving into a condo — a condo, Jake? How the heck am I supposed to live in a condo? Where am I going to put all my stuff? I need a shed, you know, or a garage or something. She’s been offered a job over there, too, and if we move, it means I’ve got to change schools. So who really cares what I say to Mr. Frakes, or the pure little girls in my class, or anybody else for that matter?”
“Boy, you’ve got chip on your shoulder so big I don’t think Arnold Schwarzenegger could knock it off.” He turned again to look at me, his small blue eyes mocking me. “Anything else bothering you you’d like to tell me about?”
“That’s about it.” I looked down suddenly, ran my hands along my legs. “Except for Meggie. She’s at a private school in Ohio. Bet you didn’t know that either.”
“Ohio?” He gave a low whistle. “Kind of puts a cramp in your love life, doesn’t it? Well, Herbie, so you’ve got a whole lot of problems right now, but why take it out on Sam Frakes?”
I looked at him in surprise.
“Oh, I know Sam. We played football in high school together. Don’t forget, Herbie, this is my town, too. Know everybody, I do. Ben Sharpe, too, though he was a few years behind me.”