"Tomorrow," I said. "That's a promise. Firm. Meantime, you've got to do
Leigh Cabot's family. You—"
great light has just dawned. "He's been gone every time—except when the
I almost told him, but it was cold in the telephone booth and my leg was
"Michael, listen," I said, speaking with all the deliberateness I could
father. Have both families get together at Leigh's house." I was thinking of
you stay together until Leigh and I get there or until I call. But you tell them
iron-watertight?—after four o'clock this afternoon. After four, none of you
goes out on the street. Any street.
Under no circumstances
."
"Dennis, I can't just—"
"You
have
to," I said. "You'll be able to convince my old man, and between
the two of you, you should be able to convince Mr and Mrs Cabot. And stay
away from Christine yourself, Michael."
"They're leaving right from school," Michael said. "He said the car would be
all right in the school parking lot."
I could hear it in his voice again—his knowledge of the lie. After what had
happened last fall, Arnie would no more leave Christine in a public parking
lot than he would show up in Calc class naked.
"Uh-huh," I said. "But if you should happen to look out the window and see
her in the driveway anyhow, stay clear. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but—"
"Call my father first. Promise me."
"All right, I promise… but Dennis—"
"Thank you, Michael."
I hung up. My hands and feet were numb with the cold, but my forehead was
slick with sweat. I pushed the door of the phone booth open with the tip of
one crutch and worked my way back to Petunia.
"What did he say?" Leigh asked. "Did he promise?"
"Yes," I said. "He promised and my dad will see that they get together. I'm
pretty sure of that. If Christine goes for anyone tonight, it will have to be us."
"All right," she said. "Good."
I threw Petunia into gear, and we rumbled away. The stage was set—as well
as I could set it, anyway—and now there was really nothing to do but wait
and see what would come.
We drove a-cross town to Darnell's Garage through steady light snow, and I
pulled into the parking lot at just past one that afternoon. The long, rambling
building with its corrugated-steel sides was totally deserted, and Petunia's
bellyhigh wheels cut through deep, unplowed snow to stop in front of the
main door. The signs bolted to that door were the same as they had been on
that long-ago August evening when Arnie first drove Christine there—SAVE
MONEY! YOUR KNOW-HOW, OUR TOOLS!
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