Unspeakable Things(55)

I wanted to hug him right there for not asking me why I’d just gone full-on nerd. “I’ll think on it,” I said, as if it were an option. “Will you tell Gabriel hi from me?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. A cloud scudded over the sun, and suddenly I couldn’t see his eyes. “And if you two aren’t coming in, you should get to work selling that popcorn, because you don’t want to be out after dark. Not these days.”





CHAPTER 34

We hit twenty-three Lilydale houses. Fourteen of them had no one home, another seven had claimed to already have bought popcorn from someone else, and two placed orders for the caramel corn–cheddar corn–plain corn blend. Knocking on strangers’ doors hadn’t gotten any easier. Felt like asking for a handout. I was about ready to call it done when Frank asked about eating.

“I’m hungry. What d’you have in your backpack?”

For the first time, I felt much older than him. “Peanut butter sandwiches and apples.”

“Can we have a picnic?”

The sun was pulsing, pushing at two o’clock, curling my baby hairs with its hot breath. “Let’s go down by the creek. There’s a shortcut over here.” I steered into a wooded area on the west perimeter of town. The paved road to my left led to Crow River Park in a roundabout way, but the path through the woods led directly to the creek. Lilydale Elementary and Middle School held its May Day Play Day picnic there every year. We weren’t allowed to swim at that picnic, but today was so hot that it’d take a herd of horses to keep me out of the water.

Tree-greened sunrays dappled the forest floor as I bounced along the rutted path through the woods. We were in an enchanted land, a thicket hiding trolls and mushroom fairies, princes and queens. I thought of joking that the My Time lady’s bathtub was around here somewhere, but it seemed like too much work. The creek was a thread of mercury that I caught glimpses of, but the scent of moving water hit me before a full view did, and I yahooed.

Frank echoed the yell. “That water is going to feel so good!”

I dumped my bike and backpack on the riverbank and flew over the shore reeds and into the creek. The water came to the bottom of my shorts, deliciously cool, catching and reflecting the sun. My feet dug into the sand. I played my good hand through the current, glancing behind me for Frank.

A huge splash exploded next to me.

“Oh my god!” I yelled, laughing.

Frank broke the surface and spouted water out of his mouth like a dolphin fountain.

“You cannonballed!”

“You better believe I did,” he said, flipping so he was belly-up and facing the sun. He waved his arms and legs lazily, the slow current pulling him away.

I splashed some water toward his feet. “Goofball. You’re lucky you didn’t scrape the bottom.”

“I did.” He held up a foot, and I saw a river rock had scored it, slicing in. Blood flowed spidery down his puckered white foot. “Worth it.”

I shook my head; then a thought exploded in me. “We should be blood brothers!”

He twisted his foot so he could peer at it, no mean feat while he was balancing in the water. “Where would your blood come from?”

I thought of the contents of my backpack. “I packed a Swiss Army knife.”

His eyes widened. “You’d cut yourself?”

“That’s how you’re supposed to do it.” I squinted up toward the sun. “Or I could pick a fresh scab.”

He fell back into the water, ladling his hands across the surface. A lock of wet hair had fallen across his forehead. “Can you be blood brothers with scab blood?”

“Blood is blood,” I said defensively. I waded toward him, using his shoulder to balance so I could pick a corner of the shaving scab that had dried a Morse code line up the outside of my ankle. The skin underneath was a startling white, then flushed with blood.

He brought his foot to my shin. I think we managed to touch our blood spots together before tipping over. We came back up, splashing. I’d kept my punctured hand raised above water, though it probably would have been fine getting wet.

“That means we’re friends forever,” I said.

He nodded solemnly, his brown hair water-slicked to his face, his big sea eyes wide and innocent. “Better than friends. Blood brothers.”

“Frank,” I said, before I lost my courage, “what would you do if you found out your dad was a criminal?”

Frank cocked his head. “What kind of criminal?”

“Someone who hurts people.”

“I’d turn him in,” Frank said, no hesitation.

Something brushed against my leg, and I jumped. “I’m going to move our bikes to the beach and set up lunch.”

I trudged toward the shore, grabbing a tuft of tall grass on the bank and using it to pull myself up. I blame the height of the grass for not being able to see Clam until we were nearly eye to eye.

My breath froze in my throat.

His posture was predatory, his eyes the same. His bearing reminded me exactly of being trapped in the instrument room with him, except this time I wasn’t alone. I had Frank.

“Are you swimming in our river, country mouse?”

I almost couldn’t hear him over the pounding of my heartbeat. “It’s a public river.”