Lesley Kagen - Whistling in the Dark

“Sally,” Troo whispered loudly to get my attention.

I looked over at her. She gave me double thumbs-up.

I did the same back to her and then I slipped around the corner. My poor heart. It wasn’t so much beating in my chest as panting like it had Old Yeller rabies. It was pretty dark back there because there weren’t any lights except for a small one over the door of the shed and that one was flickering. While I let my eyes adjust to the dark, I set my face against the brick of the school, hoping it’d be cool. But it wasn’t. It was warm and rough and smelled like sidewalk.

“Mary Lane?” I called out.

She whispered loudly over to my left, from behind a tree, “C’mon, we don’t have a lotta time. It’s the eighth inning.” She ran toward the shed door and waved me over.

There was a light on inside and a streak of it came through the shed and laid there like a piece of broken glass on the grass. Mary Lane pointed at the door. The plan was for me to pull it open as far as I could because I was so strong from all my gardening. I got my hands around the edge and yanked. Mary Lane was standing sideways to the door. She slipped most of her body through, but then stopped and said, “More, you gotta pull it open more, Sally. I can’t get my head in.” I closed my eyes so I could concentrate and tried to pull even harder, with every ounce of strength I had, telling myself if I could do this, I would be named Queen of the Playground. I tugged and grunted and it musta worked, because when I opened my eyes Mary Lane said, “I knew this skinni ness would come in handy one day,” as she disappeared inside the shed.

No other human being on Earth could’ve done it.

And then I listened for Troo, but I didn’t hear anything at all, no warning, no talking. Nothing. I watched Mary Lane through the slit in the shed door as she walked past the big metal container they kept the red balls in and past a bunch of bats and gloves. She hurried over to the long wooden worktable where they probably fixed stuff that broke on the playground and where she said she saw Bobby open up that Kroger bag. She looked in a cupboard and behind these shovels. She pulled the top off a green metal box that had some paint cans in it. Mary Lane turned toward me and hunched her shoulders up to her ears and then let them down. She couldn’t find the bag. Maybe Bobby had figured out she’d peeped on him and had gotten rid of it. Or maybe Mary Lane had been telling one of her big fat whoppers.

I stuck my arm through the slit in the door and pointed over to a corner she hadn’t checked. “Over there.”

Mary Lane walked over and picked something up in her hand. It was just a rusted old swing chain. She turned back again and made a face at me like, now what? I pointed at the red balls container. I just had a feeling. A picture of Bobby always bouncing one of those red balls came into my mind. “Dig into the ball barrel. Way down.”

A cheer went up from the baseball game. Two… four… six… eight… who do we appreciate! The game was over. The playground was closing. Bobby’d be here any minute to switch the big lights off. I called through the door, “Hurry up.” Mary Lane stuck her skinny arms down into the ball barrel as far as she could and was rooting around, and then finally she brought her arm back up. In her hand was a Kroger bag, folded at the top. She grinned and started walking back to me. She was almost home free when I heard the whistling.

I could feel his breath on my neck. How’d he get past Troo?

“Lookin’ for me, Sally?” Bobby asked real friendly. He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him. “Cuz I’ve been looking for you.” I looked down and he didn’t have those white tennis shoes on anymore. He had on black shoes, those spongy kind. And pink-and-green argyles. Mary Lane had not been telling one of her fibs.

Bobby Brophy was the murderer and molester.

He had the keys for the shed padlock in his hand. If I didn’t warn her, Mary Lane was gonna get caught by Bobby. So I imagined, just imagined that Bobby was the guy I’d always thought he was. My friend. My chess teacher. “Oh, Bobby,” I said real loud, and laughed. “You scared me. I was just thinking I could get into the shed and get some lanyards for myself. I wanna make one for my mother because she’s coming home from the hospital and I saw you were busy playing checkers with Mimi and… hey, how about a quick game of chess?”

Bobby ignored me and looked all around. “Where’s your pal Mary Lane? I saw the two of you come over here. Where’d she go off to?” He peered into the shed and the light came across his face and lit him up like he was an angel. I held my breath and prayed Dear Mary Mother of God, help your namesake. It seemed like a long time until he pulled his head back away from the crack and asked again, “Where is she, Sally?”

“She’s not here. She had to go home. She…”

Bobby grinned and took another step closer to me. “Gosh, that’s too bad. I had something real special planned for her and now she’s gonna miss out on all the fun.”

“Bobby, I really gotta get going. Troo is waiting for me.” I started to walk off. He grabbed me by my wrist. “Well, actually, Sally, she’s not. Troo seems to have fallen off the monkey bars and is taking a little nap.”

“Troo,” I moaned, and tried to break free. He pulled me closer.

There was a little gap between Bobby’s front teeth that I had never noticed before. He picked up my braid and ran the end of it across his lips. “I just love blondes. And those green eyes of yours. Delicious.” He was making a funny noise in his throat, like the Kenfields’ cat did when I rubbed her tummy. “We are going to have a very special night. I’ve been planning it all summer long. Are you ready?”

I tried to scream then, but all that came out was, “Ahhh.” Just like in my dream when the Creature from the Black Lagoon caught me. Just a gagging sound that nobody could hear but me. And Bobby.

“So that’s a yes?” he purred. He was running his fingers down my blouse toward my shorts. His breathing sounded like it did after we played tetherball. And then he wrapped his arms around me and I recognized the feeling coming off his body from that night in the Fazios’ backyard when he’d come after me with the pillowcase on his face. The feeling that I thought was fear coming off him. It wasn’t fear… I knew that then. Bobby felt excited. The way you do when you wanted something for a very long time and you finally got it.

He pulled me into his chest and held me and his warm breath on my neck smelled milky like a baby’s. If you were in one of the houses across the street and you were watching us, you would think to yourself, what a nice counselor that Bobby Brophy was to care so much about those kids. He put his lips in my ear and his flickering tongue licked the insides and all I could think about was what Mary Lane said about boa constrictors that ate kids whole.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her climb out from under the gray shadow of that worktable, and then as quiet as a mouse she pushed open the dirty window that was just above it. Did she have the Kroger bag with her? If she didn’t, and she ran over to find Mr. Dave and tell him that Bobby Brophy was the murderer and molester, he wouldn’t believe lying Mary Lane.

Bobby stepped back and brought one of his hands up to the back of my neck and first tickled it and then squeezed. He stuck his other hand through the crack in the shed door, pulled at something, and the playground went dark. Then he yanked me toward the back of the school, where there was another way out. When I tried to tug back, he said in another kind of growling voice, “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll strangle you right here, right now, and then you know what I’ll do?” He pulled me across Fiftieth Street and back behind the Grinders’. He had me up against their garage and was pushing against me with his body and something hard in his pants was pressing against my chest. “I’ll go back for Troo.”