Finally, she went so high that slack came into the chains. She and the swing fell for a moment. Then the chains went taut, the swing lurching and jerking and going crooked. Casey laughed. She swept downward, twisting.
‘Want me to ... ?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
I moved out of the way. Casey began to pump, and soon she had the swing gliding along on a steady course.
‘Nicely done,’ I said.
‘Thanks.’
‘You didn’t really need a pusher.’
‘No, but I liked it. Why don’t you grab a swing?’
I’d rather watch you, I thought. But I didn’t say it. Instead, I sat on the swing next to hers. The wooden seat and cool chains felt good and familiar.
Too familiar to be memories from childhood.
I suddenly remembered that I’d been at a playground last spring with Holly. On a warm, scented night near the end of the semester, we’d sat side by side on swings very much like these. Neither of us had done any real swinging; we’d just sat and talked softly for a very long time.
I could picture Holly sitting there in the darkness, her head turned toward me, her hands on the chains, her bare feet in the sand under the swing. She’d been wearing white shorts. Her skin had seemed much darker than the shorts.
Was this the playground where we’d been? I couldn’t be sure.
I realized that I didn’t much care.
Nor did I feel the sadness and longing and bitterness that usually came with memories of Holly.
‘Gerrr-onimo!’ Casey called, but not very loudly.
Her voice pulled me into the present and I raised my eyes in time to see her leave the swing at the height of its arc. She seemed to let go of its chains and remain high in the air as the seat fell away from under her, twisting and flopping. After a moment poised in midair, she dropped as if she’d stepped off a high dive.
Legs straight, arms spread out, she plunged toward the ground. The image reminded me of her earlier jump from the porch. This, however, was a straight decent and a much greater fall. Her ponytail flipped up higher than the top of her head. Her sweatshirt flew up to her armpits. I saw her bare back. I glimpsed the side of her left breast.
The ponytail and sweatshirt leaped down. Her knees bent. As if shoved from behind by an invisible bully, she stumbled forward very fast for a few paces then fell to her hands and knees.
I jumped off my swing. Hurrying toward her, I asked, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m splendid.’ She tumbled over and rolled onto her back. Smiling up at me, she put her folded hands underneath her head and raised her knees. ‘It’s like flying,’ she said.
‘And crashing.’
She laughed softly. ‘It didn’t hurt much.’
‘You like pain?’
‘I’m not a big fan, but I’m not scared of a little. It was worth some pain to fly like that.’
Smiling down at her, I shook my head.
‘You think I’m nuts.’
‘A trifle peculiar, perhaps.’
She chuckled. Then, in a low and raspy voice as if imitating an old geezer - probably one of her relatives - she said, ‘That’s a peculiar one, that Casey. Been a touch daffy ever since she fell on her head.’
‘You fell on your head?’ I asked.
‘Oh, sure,’ she replied in her usual voice. ‘A few times. And I’ve gotten clobbered on the noggin plenty of times, too. Good thing it’s so hard.’ She took a hand out from under her head and knuckled her brow as if rapping on a door. Then she frowned.
‘What?’
‘Nobody home.’
I grinned.
Casey sat up. She reached out a hand the way people do when they want a pull to their feet. I took hold of it. As I tugged her up, glad for the feel of her hand in mine, I watched her face. She seemed to be looking into my eyes.
When she was standing, I tried to let go of her hand. She kept hold of mine. Neither of us moved. We stood there, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. My heart pounded harder and I felt a tightness in my throat.
She squeezed my hand.
I started to pull her toward me, but she shook her head and put her other hand against my chest. ‘Just friends,’ she said. ‘Okay?’
Though I sank inside, I also felt a certain joy that she had accepted me as a friend.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Friends.’
Still holding hands, we shook on it as if making a deal. ‘Don’t look so glum,’ she said.
‘I’m not glum.’
‘We hardly even know each other. Besides, you’ve already got Eileen.’
Was Eileen the real reason Casey intended to be ‘just friends’ with me?
I almost told her that Eileen and I had broken up. It wouldn’t exactly be a lie; we had agreed to stop seeing each other - at least for a few days, to avoid arousing suspicion about our injuries. But it would be a betrayal of Eileen. A lie to Casey, too, whether or not I preferred to call it that.
Besides, maybe Casey only considered me ‘safe’ because of my relationship to Eileen.
‘I’m happy just to be your friend,’ I said.
‘Good.’ She shook my hand again. ‘I’m glad that’s settled. Now we can just have a good time and stop thinking about that other stuff.’
Had she been thinking about that other stuff?
Obviously! I suddenly felt almost gleeful.
Just as suddenly, fear swept through me.
‘What?’ Casey asked.
I let go of her hand and pointed. She turned around.
‘Where?’ she asked.
‘On the backstop.’
When she saw him, she didn’t make a sound, but her head moved slightly up and down.
Past the playground, beyond center field and second base and the pitcher’s mound and home plate, perhaps three feet off the ground, someone was clinging like a monkey to the chain-link backstop.
He seemed to be on the other side of it, facing our way.
My skin crawled.
‘Anyone you know?’ Casey asked. She sounded calm.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Isn’t Eileen, is it?’
‘I think it’s a guy.’
She turned her head and smiled at me. ‘I think so, too.’
‘A big guy,’ I pointed out.
‘Isn’t Randy, is it?’
‘Looks too big to be Randy.’
Her smile grew bigger. ‘Wanta go find out?’
‘Not especially. Aren’t you scared?’
‘He’s pretty far away. And he seems to be happy just watching.’
As if the man had heard Casey and wished to prove her wrong, he scurried down the backstop.
My stomach seemed to flip.
He dropped to the ground.
‘Shit,’ I muttered.
He trotted around one end of the backstop then turned our way and broke into a run.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Casey. Then she faced me, smiling, and asked, ‘Ride or hide?’
Chapter Thirty-nine
‘Run,’ I suggested.
‘Good thought,’ Casey said. ‘Let’s go.’ She whirled around and took off across the playground. I ran close to her side, but slower, letting her stay in the lead. She knew the area better than I did. Also, I wanted to stay slightly back to guard her rear.
When I looked over my shoulder, the man was still chasing us. He seemed to be dressed in black, floppy clothes. He chugged along with his head down, his heavy legs moving fairly well for such a big guy, his hands punching at the night. There was something off-kilter about the way he ran. That Hemingway character from ‘The Battler’ came into my mind. Not Nick Adams, but the crazy boxer, Ad Francis. Paul Newman played him in the movie, but this guy was a lot bigger than Paul Newman and I had a feeling he was no Ad Francis. I wished he were Ad Francis.
At the other side of the playground, I looked back again. He was still pounding after us.
Not gaining on us, though.
&
nbsp; We leaped off the curb and took a diagonal course toward the other side of the street. No cars were coming. None was even in sight except for those parked along the street and in driveways.
We ran up a driveway to the sidewalk and swung to the right. The sidewalk was narrow, so I dropped back. Running directly behind Casey, I matched her stride for stride and watched her ponytail prance.
As we neared the end of the block, I looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t see our pursuer at first. Then I spotted him way back, pounding his way past a teeter-totter.
‘We’re leaving him in the dust,’ I gasped.
‘The game’s not ... Ride or Run,’ Casey said. ‘It’s Ride or Hide.’
‘Yeah, but ...’
‘Like this.’ She suddenly veered to the left. I followed her off the sidewalk, onto the grass of a lawn, and up half a dozen wooden stairs to the front porch of a house.
The porch was dark. It had a swing and I hoped an old man wasn’t sitting there, watching us in silence.
We’re nowhere near that house, I thought. But I wasn’t sure. I had only vague notions about our location.
‘Be very quiet,’ Casey whispered. Then she opened the screen door of the house.
‘What’re we—?’
‘Shhhh.’ She opened the main door.
I followed her in. Standing on the other side of the threshold, I eased the screen door shut. Then I stepped out of the way and Casey closed the solid wooden door very quietly.
She took hold of my arm. I looked at her, but could hardly see her at all.
Off to one side, a dim gray luminescence seemed to be entering the living room through a large window. I could make out the vague shapes of furniture over there, but the foyer where we stood was almost black.
Though Casey’s hand remained in the same position on my arm, I could tell that she was moving. She pulled slightly. I leaned toward her and she whispered, ‘We’ll stay here till he’s gone.’ Her breath was soft and warm against the side of my neck.
‘Whose house is this?’ I whispered.
‘Ours.’
The news came as a vast relief, and also brought a sense of joy that she trusted me enough to bring me to her home.
If she was telling the truth.
It seemed like quite a coincidence, Casey’s own home just happening to be across the street from the playground and such a handy place to hide when we suddenly found ourselves being chased.
Or maybe not such a coincidence. After all, ever since I’d joined Casey, she had been leading the way. She’d brought me into this area of town, taken me to the playground, led me to this house.
Maybe the man chasing us was incidental and Casey had meant to bring me here all along.
‘We’d better take off our shoes,’ she whispered, her breath stroking my neck.
She let go of my arm.
Balancing on one foot, then the other, I removed my shoes.
‘Give them to me,’ Casey whispered. ‘I’ll put ’em with mine.’
I reached out with a shoe in each hand. She touched my hands, found my shoes and took them away. Stepping by, she brushed against me.
Moments later, she took hold of my arm again. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she whispered.
Upstairs. To her bedroom?
What had happened to just being friends?
I felt stunned, thrilled and scared.
Calm down, I told myself. Just because we’re going upstairs doesn’t mean we’ll make love.
‘We’ve gotta be very quiet,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t wanta wake anyone.’
‘Who else is here?’
‘Let’s take a look.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Shhhh.’
Casey in the lead, we sneaked through the foyer and climbed a stairway. The darkness was so deep that having my eyes open or shut made no difference. I kept them open anyway. Casey kept hold of my right arm. I slid my left hand up the banister. We moved very slowly, very quietly. Every so often, a stair creaked or groaned.
My God, I thought. I’m sneaking upstairs with Casey, the mystery girl.
My excitement was nearly unbearable. So was my fear.
What if her parents catch us?
What if they don’t, and she takes me into her bedroom and we make love?
What if our pursuer saw which house we ran to, and comes in to get us?
I was pretty sure Casey hadn’t locked the front door.
I imagined the big man lumbering up the stairs, pulling out a knife as he reached the second floor.
Fee, fi, fo, fum ...
Shit.
At the top of the stairs, Casey guided me to the left. We moved along silently on the carpet. Ahead of us, a window seemed almost bright with the gray of the night outside. The gray seeped in, filling that end of the hallway but dimming away as it neared us, leaving most of the corridor black.
A growly sound sent shivers up my spine.
Casey halted.
She’d stopped us in front of a doorway. The growly sounds came from that direction, and I realized they were snores from someone sleeping. No, from two people sleeping. To our left was a doorway. The room beyond it was slightly less dark than where we stood.
Casey pulled gently on my arm and I followed her into the room. It had a very large bed between two windows. The window curtains were shut, but light from outside came through them and from spaces at their edges.
There seemed to be two people asleep on the bed. Their heads were on pillows. One person was covered to the shoulders with blankets, while the other, curled on her side, had no sheet or blanket on her at all. She seemed to be wearing dark pajamas, but her feet were bare. The room was chilly. I thought her feet must be cold.
I supposed these two people must be Casey’s mother and father.
Strange that she would bring me into their bedroom while they slept.
She must have her reasons, I thought.
Though I wanted to get out of the room, Casey still held my arm. She led me past the right side of the bed, all the way to the window. There, she let go of my arm. With both hands, she parted the curtains. Light from outside poured in. At first, it seemed so bright that I feared it might disturb the sleepers. But they continued to snore and I realized that the light from outside was not very bright, after all.
As Casey spread the curtains all the way open, quiet, skidding sounds came from the top.
The sleepers went on snoring.
Casey moved sideways to make room for me at the window. I eased over until my arm touched hers. Looking down through the glass, we had a fine view of the area in front of the house.
That’s why she’d brought us into this room.
Except for shadowed places, the lawn and sidewalk and road were well lighted by streetlamps. We could even see portions of the neighbors’ property to both sides of Casey’s house and across the road.
Nobody was in sight.
Where is he?
Maybe, having no idea where we’d gone, the chaser had run on by to search for us on different streets, different blocks. Maybe he’d quit and wandered off.
Or maybe he knew exactly where we’d gone. He might be hiding down there, waiting for us to come out. Maybe in those bushes across the street. Or behind one of the parked cars. Or behind the trunk of the tree in Casey’s front yard. Or on the porch of this very house, or already inside.
If only we could see him!
Suddenly, I wondered if he could see us. Standing this close to the glass, we might be visible to someone looking up at the window.
As if Casey shared the thought, she bumped gently against my side. I moved out of the way. She reached high with both hands and slid the curtains shut.
Taking me by the arm, she led me toward the bedroom door. About halfway there, however, she stopped. She gave my arm a squeeze, then let go. I slowly turned and watched her drift through the darkness to the side of the bed where the uncovered woman was sleeping.
She draped a blanket o
ver the woman’s bare feet.
The woman kept on snoring.
Casey came back to me. Her hand found my forearm and she led me out of the room.
Chapter Forty
She guided me down the hallway and into another bedroom. I hoped it might be hers, but the curtains were open. In the glow from outside, I saw the shape of someone on a single bed beneath one of the windows. A head lay on the pillow. The rest of the body was hidden under a blanket.
For a moment, I thought this might be a fake person - a dummy put there by Casey before she crept out of the house. But sounds of slow, steady breathing came from that direction. Unless Casey’s ruse was sophisticated enough to include sound effects, the shape on the bed was a real person.
Beneath the other window was a second bed. Empty.
Was this Casey’s bed? Did she share the room with a sister?
Its blankets looked smooth and straight. If Casey had gone to bed earlier in the night, she’d apparently made the bed before departing for her adventures.
Breath soft against my ear, Casey whispered, ‘We’ll wait here for a while.’ Then she stepped away from me and silently shut the bedroom door.
After that, she led me by the hand to the empty bed. ‘Lie down,’ she whispered.
Heart thudding wildly, I sank onto the bed. It made some quiet creaking sounds. I scooted over to the far edge to make room for Casey. On my back, I watched her sit on the edge of the mattress, swing her legs up, and lie flat. She turned her face toward me. ‘You can take a nap if you want,’ she whispered.
I found her hand and held it. She gave my hand a squeeze.
‘I don’t think I can sleep,’ I said, hoping my quiet voice wouldn’t disturb the other girl.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m a little nervous.’
‘About what?’
‘Everything.’
She turned onto her side, facing me. I turned onto my side, too. The mattress shook slightly as she scooted closer to me. She put an arm behind my back. I felt her breath on my lips, her breasts touching me through soft fabrics, the warmth of her thighs touching mine. I reached over her side and laid my hand on her back.
Night in the Lonesome October Page 21
