Ken Douglas - Nightwitch

“ Sure,” she said, then she asked, “Are you coming over again tonight?” They were several blocks from the school and Arty slowed to a normal walk.

“ You mean sneak out again?” He still hadn’t gotten over last night and she was asking him to do it again. He’d spent the night sleeping on the bed next to hers and would have slept right through till sunup and missed his paper route if she hadn’t awakened him. The memory of climbing in his bedroom window as his alarm went off caused him to shudder.

“ Yeah. After what happened last night, you have to come again. I can’t be alone.”

“ Your mother?”

“ She’ll probably go out again. She always does.”

“ Okay, but I won’t be able to get there till between nine and ten. If I try to leave any earlier I’ll get caught.”

“ You have to come earlier. What if those eyes come back?”

“ They won’t. Besides, it was probably just a cat or a possum.”

“ No, it wasn’t. It was a person, a peeper, and he might come back. You have to come earlier,” she pleaded. He felt his resistance starting to melt. It was tough having friends.

“ I don’t know.”

“ Maybe we should tell someone,” she said.

“ We can’t!” Now he was pleading. “I’d like to, I really would, but my dad would go ballistic.” He started chewing on his lip and a tremor ran through his shoulders.

“ Okay, we won’t tell. Besides, we agreed last night and I never go back on a promise.”

“ Yeah, we agreed, but maybe you were right. Maybe we should tell someone. It’s better that my dad hit me than something bad happen to you.” He said the words hit me low and under his breath, and all the chewing in the world couldn’t keep his lower lip from trembling.

“ He hits you? You mean spanks you if you do something wrong, right?” She stopped walking and turned to face him.

“ No. I mean he hits me. Sometimes with his fists, but mostly with a belt. He’s mean. He hits my mother too.” He felt strange talking about it. He’d never mentioned it to anyone before.

“ That’s wrong.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “You should tell someone at school. I saw a program on TV and that’s what they said you should do. You should tell someone.”

“ No, I can’t. It’s a secret. You can’t ever tell anyone, okay?”

“ Okay.”

“ Promise. You said you never break a promise.”

She saw the look of desperation in his eyes and promised.

And that’s that he thought. She couldn’t tell now. Not after she promised. Then he said, “But really, maybe we should tell about last night. I’d feel awful if something happened to you, ’cuz I kept my mouth shut.”

“ I’ll be okay,” she said. “He knows we saw him peeping, so he won’t come back. Heck, he’s probably already left town.”

“ But what about the gunshots, and that scream, and the bullets in your room? I got shot in the back, remember?”

“ I don’t know, Arty. It’s my father’s gun. Or one exactly like it, but there’s something I should tell you and it’s real hard for me, because I love my dad. I really, really love him.”

“ What?” he said.

“ My dad breaks into houses and steals things. That’s why my parents got divorced. My mother said she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“ Wow. Like a cat burglar?”

“ I don’t know. I don’t think so. He used to drink a lot and I don’t think you can break into tall buildings and climb high fences if you’re drunk.”

“ Gee,” Arty said, fascinated. Then he asked. “Has he ever been caught?”

“ I don’t know. I know he never went to jail, least not till they divorced, because he was home every single night when I got home from school.”

“ Hey, do you think your father was trying to break into your house last night?”

“ I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. Why did he shoot up my bedroom? Did he do it on purpose or was it on accident? Was he shooting at someone else and missed and the bullets went wild? That doesn’t make sense to me because he’s such a good shot. Maybe someone else got his gun and shot it off, or maybe it’s a gun exactly like his. That could be it. I hope that’s it.”

“ I think that’s it,” Arty said, not knowing what to think. Then he said, “Do you still want me to come over?”

“ I’ll be okay. I’ll lock the door if my mom goes out. If I hear anything, I’ll call the police.”

“’ Cuz, I’ll come if you want me to.” He was relieved that she was letting him off the hook.

“ Thanks, but I’ll be all right,” she said, but he could tell she really wanted him to come, and he couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to be alone either.

They walked another few minutes in silence, each wandering around in their own thoughts. Arty put his father out of his mind and was enjoying the walk, living only in the present.

They rounded the corner and were a block from Carolina’s when they ran into Brad, Ray and Steve. They were sitting on the front lawn of the house second from the corner, lagging nickels on the sidewalk. Brad and Ray must have taken off from the side gate of the schoolyard and run like zebras down the next street over to meet up with Steve. Just to surprise them. It couldn’t be good.

“ You guys up to something?” Brad asked.

“ Why don’t you go get one of your daddy’s big guns and go kill something,” Carolina said.

“ Why don’t you mind your own business,” Brad said, running his fingers through his hair and sneering.

“ No, Brad. Why don’t you mind your business, and we’ll mind ours. What do ya say?” Arty felt his insides quiver and he had to go to the bathroom, but he was tired of being pushed around. He was embarrassed because he had been put down earlier in front of Carolina and he was determined not to be pushed around anymore.

“ I say I’m gonna kick your butt. By the time I get through with you your own mother won’t know you.” He continued to run his hand through his hair. He didn’t get up, “unless you say you’re sorry, right now.”

Arty clenched his fists, staring down at Brad. He thought of kicking him, but that wouldn’t be fair. Especially when he was sitting. There was no way he could win a fight with Brad, but there was no way he was gonna say he was sorry either. So he stood facing him, biting his lip for courage, waiting for Brad to make the next move.

“ Gonna say it?”

“ Arty?” Carolina said. He knew she wanted him to say it.

It would be easy. Two words. Just give in, give up and say it. But he couldn’t do it.

“ I’m waiting,” Brad said, cracking his knuckles.

But Arty stood silent. His time for running was through. Brad might beat him up, but he wasn’t gonna cower and whimper anymore.

“ Last chance,” Brad said.

“ Can’t do it,” Arty said.

And everybody knew it had gone too far.

“ This is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me.” Brad pushed himself up off the grass. His shadows stood up too.

“ You gonna do it alone or are you gonna have your friends help?” Arty felt the blood rush to his head and the muscles on the back of his neck tighten.

“ You think I need help pounding you into the ground?” This was something new for Brad, he had the reputation of being the toughest kid in the school and he wasn’t used to being challenged.

“ If you’re gonna do it, then do it, else just shutup and get out of the way.”

“ I don’t believe you’re saying this. You’re in trouble, boy.” Brad moved toward Arty.

Arty stood his ground.

“ Put ’em up.” Brad raised his fists.

Arty kept his hands at his side.

“ He doesn’t even know how to fight,” Steve Kerr said.