Prom Night in Purgatory (Purgatory #2)(55)

He could do it! It would take one little kiss on that sad little mouth, and she’d talk him right through the book, and he’d be home free. He could do it. Just don’t think about it, Johnny, he told himself. Miss Barker was a very nice lady-- maybe only four years older than he was himself. And she wanted him to! He could see it written all over her homely face. Damn! He could do this!

He couldn’t do it. The thought of Maggie, her face shining with hope, filled him with a self-disgust that he couldn’t swallow and he didn’t want to live with. Maggie wouldn’t like him kissing other girls, as if her kisses had meant nothing to him. She wouldn’t want him to treat Miss Barker that way, either. Hell, he didn’t want to treat Miss Barker that way. Damn it! He pushed away from the teacher’s desk and walked several steps away.

“Give me the book,” he said curtly, holding out his hand before he changed his mind. “I’ll do the best I can. Will you give me a week?”

Miss Barker’s mouth had dropped open, and she seemed at a loss for a minute. Then she closed her mouth, squared her shoulders, and nodded primly. She walked to where he stood, hand outstretched, and placed the book in his open palm.

“Absolutely. You’ll do fine. It really is a wonderful book.” She didn’t even stutter or blush when she spoke, and Johnny wondered for the first time if she had really wanted him to kiss her after all. Maybe she was afraid of him. Maybe that had been it all along -- not attraction, but intimidation. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he resolved to read the book and do well on the test as a sort of penance. His own words to Maggie rang in his head. “Behind every bad man is a woman who can’t resist him.” He didn’t want to be a bad man. He would read the book. The thought that Maggie would be proud lingered somewhere in the back of his mind. He shoved it away and walked out of the room, letting poor Miss Barker be.

***

The book wasn’t half bad. In fact, he actually even liked it. By the end he was riveted on the tale of the underdog who became the hero. He even imagined himself in the shoes of Sydney Carton, the character who gave his life to save another man, a man he knew was a better man that he. He had willingly gone to the guillotine. Man, that would be a scary way to go, Johnny shuddered, contemplating it. But it would be quick -- and probably painless. Could he do it? Could he give up his life for someone else?

Johnny thought about it long and hard when he finished the book, gripping the novel between his hands, the final pages long since read. He had always been the man of the house, and men protected their families. The original John Kinross -- his father -- had long since gone. No one knew where, and Johnny could barely remember him, so he didn’t ever miss him. In fact, he’d wondered before if Billy was John Kinross’s son at all. Dolly called both her sons by the Kinross name, the name she kept herself, and it was good enough for Johnny. Billy was his, whether or not their fathers were the same. Yeah, he’d die for Billy if he had to.

And for Maggie? A little voice inside of him questioned, much to his disgust. He growled in frustration, making Billy stir in his sleep, lying in the narrow bed alongside his. He threw the book across the room and watched as it collided with the wall hard enough to break the binding of the book. Billy sat up like he’d been slapped and then lay back down as if nothing had happened, falling carelessly back into sleep. Johnny had to smile at the rumpled hair and sleepy face of his younger brother. When Billy had his glasses off he reminded Johnny of the way he had looked when he was really little. It made Johnny hurt a little inside, the way a parent does when they realize the child they loved has morphed into a whole new creature.

Johnny felt a helplessness descend on him, and it wasn’t just the melancholy of time passing. It was Maggie. Maggie who had disappeared without a trace. Maggie with no phone number and no address. Maggie, who he had been unable to get out of his head. He dreamed about her, laughing up at him, her long dark hair swinging around her, her movements confident and smooth, matching his as they danced around the gymnasium, into the starlit night, and out onto the beach, where his dream always ended short of kissing her again.

Chief Bailey had talked to Lizzie Honeycutt. She had been vague in the way that kids are vague -- telling him something seemingly helpful, only to contradict it in the next sentence. The only thing that was clear was that she did know Maggie, she had helped her take the car, and she didn’t know where she was now.

Chief Bailey had also talked to Mr. Andrew Russell and his wife, as well as their daughters Cathy and Shirley. They had not had any family visiting recently, nor were they related to anyone by the name of Maggie. It appeared that Maggie had concocted the story on the spot. The discovery almost made Johnny feel better. The mystery of her disappearance was equalled by the mystery of her identity, making him believe she had vanished deliberately and was not the victim of something nefarious.

There were no missing person alerts for young girls in the whole state of Texas, not to mention girls matching her description. Texas was apparently a great place for young ladies ages 15-20, because every one of them had stayed put in the time frame Maggie went missing. Chief Bailey said he had filed a report and tucked it away, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He had said it was like looking for a ghost.

***

Graduation came and went. He made it. Johnny got his diploma, and he had actually earned it...well, mostly. He had flirted his way through some of it, but he scored an A on the final test for A Tale of Two Cities, which should count for something. And in so many ways it was “the best of times and the worst of times.” He was free. No more school, no more teachers, no more Principal Marshall breathing down his neck. He could work full time at Gene’s shop, spending time doing what he loved most. “Fixing cars and hitting bars,” Carter had said when they’d done the man-hug thing after graduation. Carter was whoopin’ and hollerin’-- and for a minute, Johnny saw himself doing just that, fixing cars and going to bars and getting old. And he panicked.