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I
on your license,
boy." An
I
on your license meant that the state had tested you on the big
trucks. I had an
A
for motorcycles (much to my mother's horror) but no
I
.
I grinned down at him. "You never checked because I looked trustworthy."
He smiled back. "Sure."
I revved the engine a little. Petunia blew off two brisk backfires that were
almost as loud as mortar blasts.
"You mind if I ask what you want that truck for? None of my business, I
know."
"Just what it was meant for," I said.
"Beggin your pardon?"
"I want to get rid of some shit," I said.
I had something of a scare going downhill from Pomberton's place; even dry
and empty, that baby really got rolling. I seemed incredibly high up—able to
look down on the roofs of the cars I passed. Driving through downtown
Libertyville, I felt as conspicuous as a baby whale in a goldfish pond. It
didn't help any that Pomberton's septic pumper was painted that bright pink
color. I got some amused glances.
My left leg had begun to ache a little, but running through Petunia's unfamiliar
gear pattern in the stop-and-go downtown traffic kept my mind off it. A more
surprising ache was developing in my shoulders and across my chest; it came
from simply piloting Petunia through traffic. The truck was not equipped with
power steering, and that wheel really turned hard.
I turned off Main, onto Walnut, and then into the parking lot behind the
Western Auto. I got carefully down from Petunia's cab, slammed her door
(my nose had already become used to the faint odour she gave off), set my
crutches under me, and went in the back entrance.
I got the three garage keys off Jimmy's ring and took them over to the key-
making department. For one-eighty, I got two copies of each. I put the new
keys in one pocket, Jimmy's ring, with his original keys reattached, in the
other. I went out the front door, onto Main Street, and down to the
Libertyville Lunch, where there was a pay telephone. Overhead, the sky was
grayer and more lowering than ever. Pomberton was right. There would be
snow.
Inside, I ordered a coffee and Danish and got change for the telephone booth.
I went inside, closed the door clumsily behind me, and called Leigh. She
answered on the first ring.
"Dennis! Where are you?"
"The Libertyville Lunch. Are you alone?"
"Yes. Dad's at work and Mom went grocery shopping. Dennis, I… I almost
told her everything. I started thinking about her parking at the A&P and
crossing the parking lot, and… I don't know, what you said about Arnie
leaving town didn't seem to matter. It still made sense, but it didn't seem to
matter. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"Yes," I said, thinking about giving Ellie a lift down to Tom's the night
before, even though my leg was aching like hell by then. "I know exactly
what you mean."
"Dennis, it can't go on like this. I'll go crazy. Are we still going to try your
idea?"
"Yes," I said. "Leave your mom a note, Leigh. Tell her you have to be gone
for a little while. Don't say any more than that. When you're not home for
supper, your folks will probably call mine. Maybe they'll decide we ran off
and eloped."
"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," she said, and laughed in a way that gave
me prickles. "I'll see you."
"Hey, one other thing. Is there any pain-killer in your house? Darvon?
Anything like that?"
"There's some Darvon from the time Dad threw his back out," she said. "Is it
your leg, Dennis?"
"It hurts a little."
"How much is a little?"
"It's really okay."
"No B.S.?"
"No B.S. And after tonight I'll give it a nice long rest, okay?"
"Okay."
"Get here as quick as you can."
She came in as I was ordering a second cup of coffee, wearing a fur-fringed
parka and a pair of faded jeans. The jeans were tucked into battered Frye
boots. She managed to look both sexy and practical. Heads turned.
"Looking good," I said, and kissed her temple.
She passed me a bottle of gray and pink gel capsules. "You don't look so hot,
though, Dennis. Here."
The waitress, a woman of about fifty with iron-grey hair, came over with my
coffee. The cup sat placidly, an island in a small brown pond in the saucer.
"Why aren't you kids in school?" she asked.
"Special dispensation," I said gravely. She stared at me.
"Coffee, please," Leigh said, pulling off her gloves. As the waitress went
back behind the counter with an audible sniff, she leaned toward me and
said, "It would be pretty funny if we got picked up by the truant officer,
wouldn't it?"
"Hilarious," I said, thinking that, in spite of the radiance the cold had given
her, Leigh really wasn't looking all that good. I didn't think either of us really
would be until this thing was over. There were small strain-lines around her
eyes, as if she had slept poorly the night before.
"So what do we do?"
"We get rid of it," I said. "Wait until you see your chariot, madam."
"My God!" Leigh said, staring at Petunia's hot-pink magnificence. It bulked
silently in the Western Auto parking lot, dwarfing a Chevy van on one side
and a Volkswagen on the other. "What is it?"
"Kaka sucker," I said with a straight face.
She looked at me, puzzled… and then she burst into hysterical gales of
laughter. I wasn't sorry to see it happen. When I had told her about my
confrontation with Arnie in the student parking lot that morning, those strain-
lines on her face had grown deeper and deeper, her lips whitening as they
pressed together.
"I know that it looks sort of ridiculous—" I said now.
"That's putting it
mildly
," she replied, still giggling and hiccupping.
"—but it'll do the job, if anything will."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose it should. And… it's not exactly unfitting, is it?"
I nodded. "I had that thought."
"Well, let's get in," she said. "I'm cold."
She climbed up into the cab ahead of me, her nose wrinkling. "Ag," she said.
I smiled. "You get used to it." I handed her my crutches and climbed
laboriously up behind the wheel. The pain in my left leg had subsided from a
series of sharp clawings to a dull throb again; I had taken two Darvon back
in the restaurant.
"Dennis, is your leg going to be all right?"
"It'll have to be," I said, and slammed the door.
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