"The Grim Reaper's Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clemens Judy)

Chapter Eleven

“Terry?” It was the pudgy one.

He got up from the five-gallon bucket, where he’d been sitting. His bike leaned against the wall in the corner, with his overloaded backpack on the floor beside it. He cleared his throat. “Is she gone?”

“You heard the gravel flying.”

“What’s she mad about this time?”

“She’s mad a lot?”

“All the time. But she gets over it quick.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, then took them out again. His eyes flicked to the right and left, not looking directly at Casey, and not seeing Death lounging against the doorway.

“What is it, Terry?”

“Nothing. I just…”

Casey overturned a bucket and sat on it. “How did you get here so quickly? Didn’t school just let out?”

“I’ve got study hall last period. They don’t care if we stay or not. At least, they don’t say anything.”

“And you decided to come see me. By yourself?”

Terry shuffled his feet, then sat down across from her. “I didn’t want the others to know I was coming.” He glanced up, meeting her eyes briefly.

Casey waited.

“It’s…Sheryl.”

Ah. Yet another kid worried about Sheryl. “What about her? Other than the fact that she doesn’t like me?”

“It’s not you.”

“Could’ve fooled me. She was ready to turn me in last night.”

“Not really. It was a show.”

“For what?” Or for whom?

“She just…it’s any adults. She doesn’t trust them.”

“And you do?”

He made a face. “My parents are…well…lame, I guess, but they’re not bad.”

“And hers are?”

“I didn’t say it was her parents.”

“You didn’t have to. You went right from ‘adults’ to ‘parents.’ Sheryl’s folks must be the problem.”

Terry closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean… Look, it would be a lot better for Sheryl if you would just…leave. Okay? She doesn’t need anything else right now. She’s having a hard time.”

“Oh, spare me.” Death made a gagging motion. “This poor sap is so far gone I want to puke. Pathetic.”

Casey studied the boy’s face. Death was right. Casey didn’t figure the whole being in love thing was reciprocated, from what she’d seen the night before, but Sheryl did seem to at least be the kid’s friend. “Terry, I don’t want to make things worse for anybody, believe me. But I’ve got a few things to do before I take off. Sheryl doesn’t need to come anywhere near me. She can pretend I don’t exist, okay? And I’ll be gone before she knows it.”

Terry put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “What can I do?”

“To help me?”

“No. To get you to leave. Is it money you want? Other clothes?” He looked at her pink shirt.

“I told you. I have things to do.”

“We can stop you.” His look of determination turned his baby face into something different. Older.

Casey looked straight into his eyes. “Look, Terry. The quicker I get my business done, the quicker I’ll go. Getting in my way is only going to make things harder. Just…let me do what I need to, and I’ll leave you—and Sheryl—alone, forever. Ask Bailey. I told her the same thing.”

“Which is why she was mad.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she likes you. She’s not going to want you to leave.”

“Then Bailey is going to be disappointed.”

Something in Terry’s face changed. He liked the idea of Bailey not getting what she wanted. And of Casey leaving.

Casey stood. “I think you should go now.”

“But…I want to help.”

“Sure. Great.”

“Really. If helping you will make you go away, then that’s what I’ll do.” His face reverted to its usual softness. “Just don’t tell Sheryl, okay? Or Bailey.”

Casey looked at Death, who had pulled out a new rubber band and was twanging it. “I won’t tell. And I’ll let you know if I think of something.”

Terry had to accept this. He got his bike and wheeled it to the door. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

“What are you bringing?”

He shrugged. “It might just be store-bought cookies this time. I have to go home and take a nap.”

“I wondered when you guys slept.”

“I tell my folks school wears me out. They believe me.”

Or they pretended to and worried secretly about what their son was doing that they didn’t know about.

Casey followed him outside. “See you then.”

“You won’t say anything about—”

“You were never here.”

Casey and Death watched as Terry rode away, heading back toward town.

“That boy’s in for a lot of heartache,” Death said. The rubber band was silent now.

“They all are,” Casey said. “It’s part of growing up. The sad part is, it will probably never go away.”