by Teri White
Beau nodded seriously. “Thanks. The thing is, I know that finding people is your job. Just because you were hired to do that, it doesn’t make you my friend or anything. You’re not, like, obligated.”
Gar felt as if he were walking through a very dangerous emotional mine field here. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal with Beau Epstein. “You’re right that looking for people is my job, Beau. But you better believe that what happened with you went way beyond the usual.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’d like to be your friend. But I know and you know that friendship has to be earned. Just saying it doesn’t make it real.”
“I know,” Beau said. “I know what being a friend means.” His tone was vaguely defensive. Or maybe defiant.
“I guess maybe you do,” Gar said carefully.
They walked in silence briefly.
“I’ll be back home at Christmas,” Beau said.
“Great. We’ll get together then. Raise a little hell or something.”
“I’d like that.” Spock finally brought the ball back and dropped it at Beau’s feet. “Can I throw it for him?”
Gar nodded.
Beau picked up the ball and threw it a very long way. As they watched the happy dog run off in pursuit, he said, “Robbie wasn’t really going to shoot me, you know. It was all just a game.”
“Was it?” Gar said quietly.
“Yes,” Beau said fiercely. “He loved me. He wouldn’t have hurt me.”
Gar didn’t see much point in arguing over it now. “Well, probably you’re right.”
“I am.” He was quiet for a time, as if trying to pick just the right words. “We just wanted to get away, that’s all.”
Gar stopped walking and looked at him. “You understand that I couldn’t just let you go, don’t you? I had to try and stop you.”
It was a long time before Beau replied. “I understand,” he said. “At first I didn’t, but now I do. Mostly.”
“I’m glad of that.”
Beau stopped suddenly and looked at him with a steady gaze. “But there’s something I want you to understand, too,” he said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“Robbie was a good friend. I know he made a lot of mistakes and maybe he did some things that were bad, but to me, he was a good friend. Can you understand that, Gar?”
After a moment, Gar nodded. “I think so. I can try to, anyway.”
“Thank you. So now you believe me when I say that Robbie wasn’t going to shoot me? He wouldn’t hurt me, ever.”
It was nice to think so anyway.
Beau bent suddenly and picked up a stick. He held it over one shoulder and marched along, looking like a little tin soldier. “This place I’m going,” he said, “it’s a military school. The same one my father went to.”
“Terrific,” Gar muttered. Actually, of course, he didn’t think it was terrific at all. It sounded like a really stupid idea to him.
Beau seemed to know what he was thinking and his voice was almost amused when he spoke. “Well, the dumb school didn’t turn Jonathan into a soldier. He went practically straight from there to Woodstock. I don’t exactly think I’m West Point material either.” He shrugged. “It seems like poor Saul didn’t learn anything the first time around.”
“He loves you.”
“I guess he does. Some people just don’t handle love very well. That’s what Jonathan said about Saul once.”
“Well, you can survive the school.”
“Oh, sure.” His shoulders straightened a little. “The secret is, never let them see you sweat.”
“Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“If you run away from the school, you’ll come here. I don’t want to have to go looking for you again.”
Beau almost smiled. “Okay.” He was quiet again. Then he brought the stick around, sighting down its length as he pretended to track a target in the distance. “I’ll probably have to learn how to shoot guns and everything.”
Gar couldn’t think of anything smart to say in response to that.
Beau looked at him suddenly and really did smile. The cheery expression didn’t extend as far as his eyes, however, which were still an icy blue.
Despite the heat of the afternoon, Gar felt an almost physical chill go through him as he met the cold gaze. Beau, still smiling, abruptly brought the stick down and broke it over his leg. It made a loud crack that echoed in the silence around them.
“Screw ’em,” Beau said.
“That’s the attitude,” Gar agreed. “Screw the bastards.”
Beau grinned again, a real smile this time, warm and not at all scary. Then he took off after the dog.
Gar thought that the boy would probably be okay. It wasn’t going to be easy, but if he had one friend sticking by him, Beau could come through this mess in pretty good shape.
That made it sound so simple, of course, and Gar knew it wasn’t simple at all.
But it was possible. And, he thought, worthwhile.
Beau found the ball before the dog and raised one hand in a V-for-victory sign, grinning at Gar.
Or maybe it was the old peace sign Beau was making.
The sharp crack of the breaking stick was still echoing in Gar’s mind, however. He had a feeling that the sound would be with him for a very long time. Maybe it would even wake him up in the middle of some dark night. But he put that thought aside for the moment and trudged after Beau, who was laughing aloud as he scrambled through the sand with the dog.
For the moment, that was enough. In this life, you took your victories where you found them.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1991 by Teri White
Cover design by Drew Padrutt
This 2015 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Head of Zeus
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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