The Dream Club #1 - Corpse

by Nancy Fornataro

CHAPTER 5

   

   

  The next day, we sat in the kitchen in our pajamas, eating pancakes and bacon.

  My Mom was at the stove, cooking more pancakes. I decided to ask her the questions from last night.

  "Mom," I began, "why do you think that guy killed that other guy?"

  We stopped eating for a minute, to listen to her.

  "Well, I don't know Eddie."

  I was frustrated. If she didn't know, then who did?

  "I guess," she continued, "sometimes people get their values all mixed up."

  Mary looked confused. "What's a value?"

  Question Machine was at it again.

  "A value," Mom said, "is something you hold that is important to you."

  Mary still looked confused. "You mean, like our Club?"

  My Mom laughed. "No, honey. Not like that. More like family, home, life, freedom, things like that. Things that mean something."

  "So," I said slowly, "you mean, the man didn't care about life, so that's why he shot the other man?"

  She came and sat with us at the table, depositing another load of pancakes. "That's exactly right, Eddie. For some reason, this man thought that the other man's life wasn't important. Other people's lives aren't important to men like that."

  Mary spoke. "So, where do people go when they die?"

  Mom smiled and stirred her coffee. "You guys are full of questions today. Well, no one really knows. Some people believe in heaven, and some believe in reincarnation. That's when you're reborn into a different body."

  "Ewwww," Mary said, "you mean I could be reborn as Stinky?"

  We all laughed.

  Mom said, "No, honey. What I believe is that people who die go to a place that's really beautiful. And, when you die, you go to this place and see all your friends and family who have died before you. Kind of a reunion."

  Mikey said, "So, that Mafia guy would see all his Mafia friends there?"

  Mary looked thoughtful. "And when I die, I would see Grammy Smith there?"

  "Exactly," Mom said.

  The phone interrupted our conversation. Mom answered it, and smoothed her hair, so I figured it was Bill.

  I gave Mary and Mikey the high sign and we went to my room. It was Saturday and we were trying to decide what to do.

  "Let's go to the Mall and play video games," said Mikey. This kid was a video game freak, and I could tell he was going into withdrawal.

  "Okay," I said. Mary looked at me sadly. "You can go with us, brat." She grinned.

  I got another house key from my Mom and we headed for the Mall on our bikes. Old Man Faraday waved to us from his porch, and we waved back.

  First, we stopped at Mary and Mikey's house so they could get some money. We didn't want to use Club money, because that was going towards Disneyland.

  Bella met us at the door. "My BABIES!!" she screamed. Did this woman ever talk in a normal tone of voice? Maybe an accident at birth left her unable to talk normally.

  "You CAN'T go to the Mall," she screamed, "it's DANGEROUS over there."

  "Ma," said Mikey in a disgusted tone, "we go there every day."

  "Oh, I know, but with ALL that's HAPPENED, I just don't want to lose my BABIES!!"

  Mikey gave us the high sign and Mary and I sneaked out the front door, leaving him to convince her.

  He came out a few minutes later. "It's cool," he said, "my Dad said we could go."

  His Dad talks? Mr. Smith was a quiet man, understandably so. Who could get a word in edgewise with Bella around?

  The Mall was just a short distance from our houses, and we were there in five minutes.

  We went into the video arcade, and some of our friends from school were there, plus Stinky. Our neighborhood was a small one, and word had spread fast about the body in the field. The kids crowded around us, asking questions.

  "Did you really see a dead body?"

  "Did you go to the police station?"

  "What was it like?"

  I spoke. "Well, the detectives told us not to discuss the case with anyone." This was the truth, as Detective Morgan had told us this the day before.

  "Wow."

  "Cool."

  "Geez."

  They all followed us around the arcade like a herd of cattle. It was embarrassing, not to mention annoying.

  Mary was enjoying our celebrity status, however, and ordered one of the kids to bring us Cokes, and another to bring us popcorn. They did as commanded, and we sat slurping, munching, and trying to look as cool as possible.

  Stinky walked up to us. "Hey."

  "Hey," I replied.

  "I saw you in the cop car."

  "Yeah."

  His vocabulary was limited, so communicating with him was no easy task.

  "How's the Club?" he asked.

  "Good," I replied.

  Mikey dragged him off to the side, explaining that we were still thinking about him joining the Club. I looked at his shoes. Yep, same old shoes. I saw Mikey pointing to Stinky's feet. One thing about Mikey, he doesn't mince words. He's honest, that's one of the things I like about him.

  The light went on in Stinky's brain, and he looked at his shoes. His face got all red, and he turned and walked away from Mikey.

  "You told him?" I asked Mikey when he rejoined us.

  "Yeah." He looked depressed.

  "What's wrong?"

  He said in a low tone, "He said his Mom is really broke right now, and can't afford to buy him new sneakers."

  Oh, man. I never thought of that. My Mom bought me new sneakers about every three months. Stinky must have been wearing those old sneakers now for a year.

  Mary looked deep in thought. "You know," she said slowly, "he always wears the same clothes. All the time. I know his sister, and she told me they live in the apartments over on Taft Street."

  Taft Street wasn't in the greatest neighborhood. Now all of us felt depressed.

  I tried to get rid of the kids hanging around, as I couldn't think with them there. We decided to call an emergency meeting of The Club.

  We met on one of the benches in the Mall. This proved to me that The Club was anywhere we were.

  "The seventh meeting of The Dream Club is now called to order," I said formally. "This is an emergency meeting to decide what to do about Stinky Weston."

  We sat for a long time, while the Mall bustled around us. Paper bags crunched, people wandered aimlessly, looking in store windows, cash registers clinked.

  After a while, Mary spoke. "We have about five dollars in the treasury. If I add what I have, we'll have fifteen."

  Holy cats! How did this little girl save ten dollars? She really WAS a tightwad.

  Mikey's mouth was set in a firm line.

  "Give it up, Mikey," she told him.

  "Okay, okay," he said with some annoyance. "Here it is."He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, and Mary counted it.

  "Okay," she said, "we have another eight dollars."

  Mikey looked grim, and I shook my head. Tightwaddery was a way of life to these people. I checked my pocket, and was totally embarrassed when I only came up with two dollars. I added it to the pile, and they looked at me scornfully.

  "We now hate twenty-five dollars," Mary announced.

  "You think it'll be enough?" I asked.

  "Probably."

  The meeting ended, and we cruised the Mall in search of shoe stores. A question had come up about what shoe size Stinky wore, so we sent Mikey to do some undercover investigating.

  We found a shoe store and went inside. For five minutes, we were totally ignored. Then, a short man with slicked-back hair came up to us.

  "Can I help you?" he asked in a bored voice.

  Yeah, mister, you can help by waiting on us a little sooner.

  "We would like to know your price on sneakers, please,"said Mary crisply.

  "What KIND of sneakers," he sneered.

  We hadn't thought of that. There are an assortment of sneakers on the market, some ha
d pumps, some had lights on the back, etc.

  I rose up to my full height and looked the guy in the eyes. "The cheapest ones," I said.

  Mr. Slick looked at us disdainfully. "Any particular SIZE?" He figured we didn't have any money, I was sure.

  "Probably a men's eight." I responded.

  He looked at my feet. "THAT," he said, "is NOT a size eight."

  This guy was really getting on my nerves. Mary was frowning.

  "Look," she said, "we're just trying to get an idea of the cost of sneakers, okay?"

  He sniffed. "The cheapest sneakers we carry run thirty-five dollars."

  Not good news. We said a fond farewell to Mr. Slick and checked out some other shoe stores in the Mall, with the same results. Mikey ran up to us. He had found out Stinky's size from his sister, and we decided to go home to think things through.