she knows that date. How could she forget?
“My God,” she says out loud. “Oh, my God. That’s the day Momma died.”
CHAPTER NINE
Around nine o’clock every evening Joseph Gradling gets the itch, and this night is no exception. Naturally, as a sixteen-year-old, Joseph is vaguely aware that the itch is a common malediction among his age group: nearly every young boy at Wink High has it in some way or another, though it manifests at different times and they take care of it in different ways. He has heard, for example, of Bolan’s Roadhouse on the outskirts of town, where some of the more adventurous boys have gone to spend money on something alternately described as blissful or repellent. And for the less daring there are smut magazines you can buy at certain stores in town, which quickly attain the value of cigarettes in prison among the student population, and are pored over with the enthusiastic disbelief of Old World peasants reading of foreign lands.
But Joseph is convinced he’s found the best possible way in town: Gracie Zuela, who, for some reason, seems to hold some affection for him, or perhaps even like him. This revelation came to him quite slowly, as he could not believe it for the longest time. But one day, with his hands trembling and heart fluttering, he made some vague, stuttering proclamations to her about his feelings (to his embarrassment, he kept returning to the subject of her “niceness” because she was “so nice”), and, in a development that still confuses him to this day, she smiled and stood on her toes and whispered a time and a place into his ear.
That was the first time they met in the woods outside her home. There have been a few others after that. And with each visit, Joseph has grown aware that Gracie is scratching a deeper itch than the one that originally made him seek relief. There is something to their nocturnal visits, something fleeting and wonderful, that draws him back to this place. He is not sure what it is. But though the itch might be managed, he is now more distracted than ever, yet he is perfectly content with this.
Tonight, Joseph waits in their usual place in the woods, nursing a bottle of gas station champagne and a fearfully powerful erection. He’s brought two bottles, one strawberry-flavored the way she likes it, and he’s about a third of the way through his so he’s feeling a little puzzled by everything. He is puzzled by the way the very trees appear agitated, like a herd of deer that has just caught scent of a wolf. But he is also puzzled by the moon. Tonight it looks slightly pinker than usual.
It is at times like these that Joseph tries to forget why he has no competition for the affections of Gracie Zuela: her house is just on the edge of a No-Go Zone, as his parents have termed them. These are the places no one ever visits, not even during the day. This Zone in particular is the woods on the northwestern side of town, just beside the mesa, and is said to be one of the worst places; but no one has found all of the No-Go places, or if anyone has, they haven’t told anyone about it. And who would ever go looking? The idea is unthinkable.
But Joseph knows that Gracie’s family has an arrangement, so this place is actually quite safe. Though others might fear to come, he knows he can walk here without worry. Or at least without much worry. No one is entirely worry-free when out and about in Wink at night. Everyone knows it’s best to stay indoors. But he checks his watch again and drinks more champagne.
Finally there is a soft footfall behind him. “You came,” says a quiet voice.
He turns and sees Gracie standing behind him. She has always moved very quietly, though recently she seems to be getting quieter and quieter. One day, he thinks, her footfalls will make no sound at all. “Of course I did.” He holds the bottle of strawberry champagne out to her, but she shakes her head. “No?” he asks.
“No,” she says.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Gracie is a slight, skinny creature, with toothpick arms and a stooped posture, but it is obvious she will one day be a great beauty. There is a placid sadness to her deep, dark eyes, as if she is pained by some phantom wound but does not know what