Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,38
down pretty soon.”
“Yeah,” Arney says, “like anybody could wear you down.”
“You’re having an off night,” Paulie says, and slaps the ball into the bleachers.
“Man, what’s with you?” Arney says.
“Just workin’ out the kinks of a bad day,” Paulie says back.
Turner says, “Will you girls shut up and play?”
Paulie smiles and nods. He will most certainly shut up and play.
Arney passes the ball in and cuts to the hoop, circling under the backboard and out to the corner baseline, with Paulie tracking every step. Paulie’s teammates are emboldened by his defense and turn it up on their end. Arney cuts back toward the hoop on the baseline and Paulie lets him go, giving his big man just enough room to sneak in a bounce pass. Arney goes up for the shot with Paulie right behind him, his palm on the ball and no part of their bodies touching. He slams the ball back into Arney’s face, sending him sprawling across the floor. Blood squirts from Arney’s nose.
“My foul,” Paulie says. “You guys’ ball.” He offers Arney his hand.
Arney slaps it away. “Jesus, Baum, what the fuck is the matter with you? You had the block.”
“Guess I got too into it,” Paulie says. “Sorry, man.”
Turner says, “You okay, prez?”
Arney wipes his nose with his hand, sees blood. “I’m okay, but I’m done. I’m not playing with this asshole.”
Turner glances around the gym. “We need a third.”
Paulie walks to the sideline. “That’s okay. I’ll call it, too. You guys go two-on-two.”
Without turning back he moves to call winners on Justin’s court.
Arney Stack walks in his back door, through the kitchen, and heads for the stairs toward his room. His mother intercepts him at the base of the stairway, seeing crusted blood below his swollen nose. “What in the world happened to you?”
“Basketball,” he says. “It got a little rough.”
His father appears in the entrance to the living room. A thin, wiry man, impeccably dressed even in his casuals. “Let me look at that.”
Arney grimaces and approaches his father. “Yes, sir.”
Arnold Sr. studies the wound. “Did you extract retribution?”
“Naw, it was Paulie.”
“I see. An accident?”
Arney smiles. “Not exactly. He was irritated at me from something at school.”
“Having to do with the Murphy girl?”
Arney takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“So he takes it out on you on the court.”
“I guess.”
“And you do nothing.”
“It was Paulie, Dad.” He doesn’t say that Paulie was so pissed he’d have retributed the retribution in a big way, but makes it sound like he gave his friend a pass.
The open-palmed slap to the side of Arney’s face knocks him back two steps. He catches himself on the banister.
His mother retreats, hand over her mouth.
“You’re a Stack,” his father says, low and mean. “No one assaults a Stack and walks away, understood? Especially that Baum kid. He’s diminished you all your life.” It’s his father’s favorite word. Diminished.
Arney is physically strong enough to take his dad, but he says, “Yes, sir.”
“You give a man an advantage and he takes advantage.”
“Yes, sir. No excuse.”
“Very well, then. I’m sorry I had to strike you.”
“I had it coming, sir. You’re right. I can’t pick a fight, but you can rest assured I’ll get him back, and he’ll know it.”
A slight smile crosses his father’s face. “You’re a good man, son. Or you will be.”
The following afternoon Paulie drives slowly toward the Wells mansion, his mind bouncing over what to say when he gets there. “Make it look like we’re hanging out,” he says to the steering wheel. “Hi, Mr. Wells. I’m Paul Baum. Your daughter and I had a quick one in my car a little while back, but that’s over now and I’m here to make it look like she and I are hanging out. Don’t go for your firearms, it’s all for show.” He laughs. What the fuck. I’m ninety percent sure, he thinks, but I need a hundred: did Arney tell Hannah?
“Can I help you?” Victor Wells looks bigger in the door of his mansion than he did in the park, and every bit as intimidating.
“Yes, sir. Is Mary here?”
“She’s here but I’m afraid she isn’t taking callers.”
“This is about school,” Paulie says.
“Is she expecting you?”
Funny, Paulie thinks. Name two guys she has ever expected to come here.
“I don’t think so. It’s about a project we’re working on.”
“She hasn’t mentioned a project. Is this recent?”
“Actually it’s old. We started it at the beginning of the semester and I’ve been procrastinating.” For an avowed truth-teller, this lying stuff comes way