The Secrets on Chicory Lane: A Novel(8)

Luckily, Mr. Newcott was usually gone during the days—sometimes several days at a time. That’s when we felt the safest, and we would sneak into the bomb shelter, pretending we were living in an isolated encampment in a fantasy universe of our imaginations. When the bomb shelter wasn’t possible, Eddie and I met at the park, where we could also be by ourselves away from the prying eyes of the grown-ups. Every once in a while, Eddie would also come across the street to my house where we’d play board games in the living room or watch TV together. Rarely would he step foot in my bedroom. Mom didn’t think that was appropriate. And usually either she or both my parents were home when he came over.

Five houses down from mine, another interesting character lived on Chicory Lane, one who turned out to be a significant part of the story that summer. Gordon Alpine—I still think of him as simply “Mr. Alpine”—was a divorced man in his late thirties who worked at the public library, was a photographer who specialized in kids’ school portraits and baby pictures, and served on the school board for one of the junior highs. Gordon Alpine also happened to be the brother of Carl Alpine, the mayor of Limite.

Mr. Alpine owned an 8 mm movie projector, and he often invited the neighborhood kids into his house to watch a bunch of cartoons and old comedy films or look through his collection of vintage toys and comic books. Mr. Alpine was always happy to show off his collection, provide a glass of lemonade or Kool-Aid and cookies, and let us play with some of his less valuable toys. Or show Charlie Chaplin or Three Stooges shorts. Mr. Alpine was a nice man. He’d always come outside and say hello whenever a group of kids was in front of his house; sometimes he’d have a handful of comic books and give them away. He was also a highlight of going to the library—he was always entertaining and funny, as well as helpful. He acted as if he wanted to be a kid again.

It turned out he had everyone fooled. We didn’t know it, but Evil had paid a visit to Mr. Alpine, too. He turned out to be more frightening than Eddie’s dad.

He was a monster.





4


Dashes of memories. Brief snippets of a film strip, edited and jumbled.

What happened in the months prior to the summer of 1966? In the beginning, everything seemed normal. Our family had a new member. Michael was almost two months old when school let out at the end of May. He had the loudest cry. He was a colicky baby, keeping everyone in the house up at night. Then, when you’d think he was all tuckered out and would sleep all day, he’d cry during the day, too. It was worse than nails on a blackboard, and it drove us insane.

Nevertheless, like all kids feel when school lets out, I looked forward to the whole summer in front of me. Seventh grade and junior high school seemed far in the future. When you’re that young, time stretches—a three-month summer could last an eternity.

The business with Eddie and me had begun a few months earlier while I was still eleven. Before, we acknowledged each other on the street and in school, getting together with other kids for our usual outdoor play. We only started getting closer in early 1966, when my mother was pregnant. More and more, our afternoons and evenings were spent together without the other kids present. I can’t recall why or how it happened; somehow Eddie and I clicked for the first time.

One thing still vivid in my mind was my young perception that Eddie Newcott was the most beautiful boy I knew. Even at ten years old (and later when he turned eleven in February that year), he was handsome like a man was handsome. Other girls at school also commented on how cute Eddie was, though they also thought he was “weird.” Yes, he was a little strange. Quiet and introverted, he read comic books all the time and didn’t have many friends of his own. He drew bizarre pictures in a sketchbook; you’d think he was working for a Halloween store or something, with all the scary images he created—skeletons, devils peeking out of flames, monsters, dinosaurs, and witches. Some of his more elaborate work consisted of army battlefields complete with soldiers and tanks. Eddie spared no restraint in depicting dismemberments, decapitations, and bodies riddled with bullet holes. There was a lot of red. All this would have been reason enough to discard Eddie as being truly strange, except that the drawings were good. He had talent. Supposedly his teacher admonished him for the subject matter of his artwork but praised his ability and encouraged him to try something else. I’m not sure if he ever did.

Eddie had very distinctive, dark, bushy eyebrows. His eyes were a deep brown and his hair was almost black, though it would turn even darker later with age. His father made him wear his hair in a buzz cut at that time, and he grew it out when he was older. He was thin and very tall for his age, with full, cushiony lips. Yes, Eddie was a good-looking boy.

I realized just how attractive he was when we walked home from school together one afternoon. Two older girls in junior high passed us, turned back, and said, “Hello, Eddie!”

“Hi,” he said.

I heard them giggling as they walked on and turned to see them glance back a couple of times. What was the big deal? I thought. “Do you know them?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I guess.”

Eddie and I continued walking, but I looked at him with a renewed respect.

“What?” he asked, catching me in the act.

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Those girls must think you’re cute or something.”