Роберт Паркер - The Boxer and the Spy

“Some adults knew,” Abby said.

“Bullard knew,” Terry said.

“And the secretary in the nurse’s office,” Abby said.

Tank got it. He was excited. He wasn’t used to getting things quickly.

“And the librarian,” Tank said. “You was asking her about some steroid stuff, I remember.”

“Why would they tell Kip Carter All-American?” Abby said.

“I don’t know,” Terry said.

“Maybe if we found out,” Abby said, “we might know a lot.”

There it is again, Terry thought, “we”!

They were walking on the beach, which they liked to do. The weather was overcast, the wind was damp, and the surface of the ocean was gray and rough looking. There was something exciting about it, they thought. And if they dressed warmly, it was fun.

“You think it really was a grown-up that told Kip Carter All-American about you?” Abby said.

“Kids say they didn’t,” Terry said.

“But kids don’t always admit stuff,” Abby said.

“Neither do grown-ups,” Terry said.

“True,” Abby said. “So how are we going to find out?”

“Well,” Terry said. “I suppose first thing is, we don’t trust anybody.”

“Except each other,” Abby said.

“Except that,” Terry said. “We don’t know who’s talking to who, or why. So we keep our mouths shut.” He smiled. “Except if we’re kissing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we start,” Abby said.

“We will,” Terry said, “sooner or later.”

He always felt a little scared when he mentioned things like that to her. They were so good now, being best friends, it was as if he might spoil something.

“Probably,” Abby said.

He hadn’t spoiled it!

“And we only tell anything to each other,” Terry said.

Abby nodded.

“That won’t help us find out anything,” Abby said.

“I know.”

They continued walking. Now it was raining a little. The beach was empty. It was one of the reasons they liked to walk in bad weather. They had it to themselves. Without saying anything, they had both chosen to walk away from the place where Jason Green’s body had washed up. The wind had gotten stronger, and Abby took his arm and pressed against him as if for shelter. The harbor was getting rougher with the strengthening wind and the red channel buoys were tossing from side to side.

As they walked, he felt the pressure inside him. He always felt it when he was with Abby. He was thrilled to be with her. But he knew there had to be something more and he wasn’t sure what would happen to them if they took the next step toward something more. What if the something more didn’t work so well, and it meant they couldn’t be friends anymore.

It would kill me , he thought.

“We could follow him,” Terry said.

“Kip Carter All-American?”

“Yes.”

“What would that prove?”

“If he spent a lot of time talking to the librarian or the secretary in the nurse’s office or Mr. Bullard, maybe we’d know something.”

“You don’t think it’s the librarian or the secretary,” Abby said. “Do you?”

“No.”

“You think it’s Mr. Bullard.”

Terry shrugged.

“Mr. Bullard also told me to stop messing around with this stuff,” Terry said.

Abby nodded.

“And you think we’ll catch Kip Carter All-American hanging out with Bullard?” she said. “What’ll that do for us?”

“I don’t know,” Terry said. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

The wind was driving the rain at a small slant. Terry liked it. There was something exciting or romantic or something about rain.

“How about he’s got his license and his father bought him a car and we can’t even drive yet,” Abby said. “How do we follow him if he drives?”

“We can follow him in school,” Terry said.

“But what about after?”

“I guess all we can do is follow him where we can,” Terry said.

Abby smiled.

“It’s not much of a plan,” she said.

“No,” Terry said. “It isn’t.”

“But I suppose it’s better than no plan,” Abby said.

“Yes,” Terry said. “It is.”

The wind was strong now and the rain was hard. Terry felt as if all the energy of the storm was in the pit of his stomach, as if he might explode. She seemed so much calmer about their relationship. Sort of peaceful. Every time he joked about what might happen, like the kissing remark, she might joke or go along, but she always allowed him to think it might happen. That he and Abby might happen. That maybe they were happening already. He thought of his jokes as sort of momentary overflow But he knew she knew. Sometimes he thought she knew everything.

She can’t know everything. She’s fifteen. And I’m fifteen.

He felt her arm through his and her shoulder against his and now and then their legs would brush as they walked together in the storm.

The hell with that, he thought. We know what we need to.

Abby had two classes with Kip Carter All-American.

She watched him in those classes.

Terry had one class with Carter.

He watched him during that class.

They watched him in the corridors.

They watched him in the lunchroom.

They watched him during free periods when they could.

Sometimes they would be in the coffee shop at the same time.

They watched him there.

Sometimes Kip and other football players hung around after school near the football field and strutted, and pushed and shoved each other, and stared at girls. Some of the senior girls stared back. Some of them joined the group. When they did, there was a lot of talk and a lot of hard laughter.

They watched him flirt and swagger.

“Pretty raunchy,” Abby said.

“Kind of gross,” Terry said.

“It’s not gross,” Abby said. “It’s...” She gestured with her hands as if she was searching for words. “They’re just learning how to be men and women.”

“They could do it quieter,” Terry said.

He didn’t like Abby hearing such talk, but he knew she wouldn’t like it if he said that.

“Oh most of it is talk,” Abby said. “Only a few of them actually do any of that stuff.”

“How do you know?” Terry said.

“Girls talk about things,” Abby said.

“How do you know they’re learning to be men and women?”

“I think about stuff,” Abby said.

“A lot,” Terry said.

After Carter was through swaggering, and flirting, he walked home.

They followed him.

During the time they watched him, he never had any contact with the secretary in the nurse’s office or with the school librarian. They saw him with Mr. Bullard three times.

“Doesn’t mean there’s anything,” Terry said.

“But the math is good,” Abby said. “He never saw those other people. He saw Bullard three times.”

“‘Course maybe Tank told him and won’t admit it,” Terry said.

Abby bumped her heels against the Wall, where they were sitting.

“We already said it’s not much of a plan,” she said. “But we also agreed it was the best one we had.”

Mr. Bullard’s tan Ford Fusion rolled slowly past the Wall and Mr. Bullard craned his thick neck to study the two of them sitting on the Wall. He always drove past the Wall on his way home after school.

“Gotta make sure nobody’s smoking,” Terry said.

“Or doing dope,” Abby said.

“Or making out,” Terry said.

“Probably hoping,” Abby said.

“Bullard?”

“Yes. He’s a pig, like Kip Carter All-American. He always looks at you when you walk past him in the hall. You know? Checks out your chest. Watches you as you walk away, looking at your butt.”