Нил Шустерман - The Shadow Club

Tyson was already climbing out of the pit. I was about to follow, when Cheryl stopped me.

“Jared?”

I turned to her. “Yeah?”

It took a while for her to ask her question, and because it took so long, I knew what the question was going to be.

“Jared . . . are we still . . . together?”

I thought about that for a second. “I don’t know.”

The answer didn’t make her very happy. She looked down. “I know the real question,” she said. “Are we still friends? That’s the real question,” she said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

I didn’t answer for a long time. “I don’t know,” I said softly. “Ask me again next week.”

“I see,” she said quietly, and backed away. She had always been so tough, but now I could almost see her falling apart inside.

“No,” I said, moving closer to her. “I mean really ask me again next week. Right now I’m not even my own friend.” I kissed her. Whatever the kiss meant, we’d have to wait to find out. We both seemed to feel a little better, though.

At the lip of Stonehenge, Tyson was kneeling down, trying to piece together his mutilated marionettes. He turned to me as we came out of the pit and said, “Couldn’t you have left a single one? It’ll take years to make more!”

“What do you need them for? Now you’ve got the real thing!” I helped him up, and for the first time since the day I knocked him out of the phone booth, I looked in his eyes. They were dark and deep, just as always. There was a lot of heavy stuff going on down there; deep, dark memories that no kid should have. Maybe I’d find out about them someday, maybe not, but one thing was certain; whatever was in those eyes, I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. He kept staring at me, probably because I was staring at him. I wondered what it was he saw in my eyes.

“Things are gonna be rough for a while, Tyson,” I said, “for all of us.”

“It’s OK,” he said, “I’m used to that.” And he smiled, a real, full smile, and it made both Cheryl and me feel much better about things. It sort of made us realize that it was all gonna pass, and things were gonna be OK—that is, if we all worked hard enough to make it OK.

Cheryl and I turned and took one last look down into the shadowy pit of Stonehenge. We both knew we wouldn’t come back here again. It was a place from our past. Like the tree house.

Tyson was waiting for us, and so we left, turning our backs on Stonehenge forever.

That was yesterday. I think Cheryl needs to think things over, just like me. I guess you might call this a trial separation for us, and those don’t always end in divorce, you know.

Anyway, tomorrow Cheryl’s going to see a psychologist, too. Just to talk. I guess it works, because after this, I realize how much I want to talk about it, and tell everyone how it happened.

And I know who has to hear it next:

Austin.

Austin’s parents might not let me in the house, and maybe he’ll hate me for all eternity. But maybe after a long time he’ll see how sorry I really am, and he’ll forgive me. I mean, if Tyson can forgive me, anything’s possible.

And Tyson won’t be sorry he did, either. I might be the second-best runner, but from now on I’m gonna be the best friend either of them ever had. And when it comes right down to it, as long as I’m the best friend I can be, who cares what I’m second-best at?

Want to know what happenes next?

Read The Shadow Club Rising !

Neal Shusterman began his writing career shortly after graduation from college. In the years since, he has made his mark as a successful novelist and completed a sequel to The Shadow Club, The Shadow Club Rising. His books have been honored with awards from International Reading Assosiation, the American Library Association, and many states. His novels span many genres, from suspense thrillers to science fiction to true crime to social satire. In all his work he combines true-to-life characters with sensitive and riveting issues and binds it all together with a unique sens of humor. As a screen-writer, Mr Shusterman writes original scripts as well as adaptations of his novels for film and TV. His other talents range from film directing to writing music and stage plays. You can visit the author on the Web at www.storyman.com