Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,19
in the next few days.”
“Have you had a conversation with her father since the search was called off?”
“No. We’ll handle it through our attendance office like any other absence. This is a good student with an exemplary record, both academically and socially.”
“I wonder—”
“What will happen,” Dr. Johannsen interrupts, “is something newsworthy, and you folks will concentrate on that and we’ll get on with the business of finishing up our school year. Thank you, but I have work to do.”
Right on, Dr. Jo! Hannah thinks. Slap that nosy bitch! Hannah’s cell has been ringing every ten minutes and she knows Mallory Preston and her colleagues want her on the record about her encounter with Mary, which is not going to happen. Fifteen minutes of fame, my ass, she thinks. I’m saving mine for something fun.
Paulie pulls himself onto the dock after nearly forty-five minutes in the icy reservoir. It was a good, fast workout and he feels on top of the world, warm and strong. Warm will give way to violent shivering in minutes when sensation returns and his body reacts to the astonishing cold. He slides his feet into his flip-flops, rushes to the car and pulls on his sweats, slips into the driver’s seat, and cranks the heat to high while backing away from the dock. As he approaches the city limits, the shivering starts and a half-mile later he pulls over because he’s paying way more attention to his vibrating body than to his driving. If I died right now they’d set my time of death two hours ago based on body temperature. He laughs at the thought and sits another twenty minutes with the car heater slowly bringing him back toward 98.6. When the intensity of the shivering has diminished enough to let him clutch the steering wheel with a degree of confidence, he drives home, strips out of his sweats, and lowers himself into a bath. He considers the events of the past few days, wondering if he should go ahead and tell all he knows.
“Bobby Wright!” Paulie says as The Rocket door cushes closed behind Bobby. He looks at his watch; ten fifteen. “Aren’t you out past curfew?”
Bobby looks confused.
“I’m messing with you, man. What can I do for you? Still got coffee that’s almost fresh. A day-old croissant?”
Bobby frowns again.
“Still messin’ with you, buddy. What do you need?”
“Like a pop or something,” Bobby says.
Paulie nods toward the cooler. “Pop we got. Coke, Pepsi, hell we even have Jolt and Red Bull in the back. Keep you hoppin’ all night.”
Bobby’s eyes shift side to side. “Is that what you’ve been drinking?”
“Naw, man. I’m just bored. Got an hour and a half to go.”
Paulie watches Bobby walk toward the cooler. The kid moves like he’s afraid he’ll trip a landmine. He stands staring through the glass at the soda pop, unable to decide. He opens the cooler door, closes it again, opens it.
“No matter which one you pick, you’re gonna wish you’d got the other one,” Paulie says.
Bobby turns around. “Huh?”
“Messin’ with you again. Grab one, it’s on me.”
“I can pay for it.” Bobby reaches in his pocket, shows Paulie a five.
“Yeah, man, but you don’t have to. I’m buyin’. All you gotta do is stay here to drink it.”
“Really? You want me to stay here?”
Paulie looks at his watch again. “You got some place to go?”
“No . . . I mean, usually nobody . . . I can drink it here.”
“All right then, grab what you want and pull up a chair.” He nods toward a table near the counter.
Bobby grabs a Dr Pepper and moves to sit. “I can pay for it . . .” he says again.
“But you’re not gonna,” Paulie says. “Sit.”
Bobby sits.
Paulie claps his hands together. “So what do you want to talk about?”
Bobby’s eyes widen. Bobby Wright does not often experience cool guys treating him like he’s visible.
“C’mon,” Paulie says, “what’s up?”
Bobby takes a drink of his pop. “Actually . . .”
“Shoot.”
“How’d you learn to swim like that? Like up at the lake an’ stuff?”
Paulie walks around the counter, hoists himself up. “You know, swimming lessons when I was little. Then I joined the Parks and Rec swim team so I could get a coach. Cool thing about swimming is, if you keep doing it you get faster. Pretty soon I started wondering how far I could go. Found out Mr. Logs was a wannabe channel swimmer and just started doing it with him. Guy’s a beast.”
“You think I could