The Impossible Fortress(61)
“Fine, walk me through it,” I told Clark. “Once I get up the mountain, how do I find Mary?”
“You don’t need to find Mary,” Clark said. “That’s the beauty of this plan. You just need to find any girl and ask her to deliver the note.”
“How do I know she will?”
“Because you had the guts to get there! No one’s ever done it before. Girls will respect that. She’ll know it must be important, and she’ll make sure Mary gets it.”
When he put it that way, the plan almost sounded easy. I didn’t need to search an entire mountain looking for Mary. I just needed to find one Catholic schoolgirl on a mountain filled with Catholic schoolgirls.
Alf just shook his head. “You’ll never pull it off,” he said. “If you bike up that mountain, I promise you’ll come down in the back of a police car.”
I knew he was right. But I also knew I couldn’t live with the guilt another day. Mary was out in the world, thinking terrible things about me, and it was driving me crazy.
“I’ll have to leave early,” I said. “If I’m out the door by seven, I can make it to the school before noon.”
“And she’ll have the letter before lunchtime,” Clark said.
“And we’ll visit you in jail,” Alf promised.
2900 REM *** DRAW NEW GUARDS ***
2910 FOR X=0 TO 62
2920 READ A
2930 POKE 12608+X,A
2940 NEXT X
2950 POKE 2045,197
2960 POKE V+21,32
2970 POKE V+44,2
2980 POKE V+10,GX: POKE V+11,GY
2990 RETURN
WHEN I GOT HOME from the library, Tack was standing on my front steps, talking to my mother through the screen door. By the time I saw him, it was too late to turn back. He saw me coming and waved hello. It seemed like he had somehow developed ESP. He was coming to bust me for the letter before I even tried to deliver it.
“There he is,” Mom said, and there was a cheerful lilt in her voice, like everything in our lives was sunshine and roses.
“How are you, Billy?” Tack asked.
I shrugged but didn’t say anything. It seemed that any possible answer was likely to get me into trouble: “I’m fine.”
How can you be fine? You were nearly arrested this weekend! You should be miserable!
“I’m miserable.”
Why are you miserable? You could have gone to prison! You should be the happiest kid on earth!
“I’m the happiest kid on earth.”
You self-centered little creep! Don’t you feel any guilt at all?
“Officer Blaszkiewicz wanted to see how you were doing,” Mom explained. A strand of hair fell over her face and she pulled it back, tucking it behind her ear. “He wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Everything’s okay,” I told him.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “You were lucky to get a second chance, you know.” He went on for several minutes about the beauty of second chances. He spoke of clean slates and fresh starts and the turning over of new leaves. The moment he stopped to catch a breath, I thanked him for coming and ducked inside the house.
I sat at the kitchen table and waited for Tack to go away, but he and my mother kept talking and talking. Eventually I went out the back door and crept around the side of the house to eavesdrop on their conversation. To my astonishment, I discovered they weren’t even talking about me! They were discussing the season finale of Dallas. The show’s heroine, Pamela Ewing, had just smashed her car into an oil tanker. Mom was convinced that no one could survive the fiery explosion; Tack insisted it was just a ratings stunt and the producers would bring her back, bandaged and bruised, in September. I was pretty sure that my mother and Tack were the only two people in 1987 who were still watching Dallas.
“That was weird,” I said to Mom, later, after Tack got in his squad car and drove away.
She remained at the front door, looking out at the lawn. “I’m going to stop by the garden store tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe pick up some perennials. Our front yard looks so dreary.”
Our front yard looked the way it always did. Our postage-stamp lawn was speckled with dandelions and ringed by a thin ribbon of white gravel that we replenished every spring.
“I said that was weird,” I repeated. “Tack coming to our house.”
Mom shrugged. “I thought it was a nice gesture. He’s taken an interest in you. He wants to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
Then I went to my bedroom, opened a road atlas of New Jersey, and charted the most direct route from Wetbridge to Mount St. Agatha’s Preparatory School for Girls.
3000 REM *** DRAW NEW ENVIRONMENT ***
3010 FOR J=6 TO 14
3020 FOR I=1030+J*40 TO 1036+J*40
3030 POKE I,35:POKE I+SO,9
3040 NEXT I
3050 FOR I=1044+J*40 TO 1056+J*40
3060 POKE I,35
3070 POKE I+BG, 9
3080 NEXT I:NEXT J
3090 RETURN
THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up early, scarfed down a bowl of Frosted Flakes, and dressed in the same khakis and button-down shirt that I’d worn to the movie theater. I didn’t think I’d actually see Mary—but if I did, I wanted to look my best. I placed the letter in my back pocket and headed out the front door.