Summer on the Moon

by Adrian Fogelin

  “One of us better learn how to cook,” said Socko.

  “One of us already knows how to cook.” Delia waved at the General, who was watching from the window.

  Great, thought Socko. SOS on a regular basis.

  Delia tapped her cheek. “Come on, give me a little sugar.”

  When he leaned in and kissed her cheek, she touched the S on his hat. “Big day for both of us, huh? New job for me. New school for you. Have a great time at the open house.”

  “I’m going?” He’d written the whole thing off.

  “Junebug’s driving. Livvy’s parents are lending her a car. Livvy worked it out.”

  “Hope it’s the convertible,” he said, although all he really wanted to do was slide through the last two weeks of summer, school free.

  Livvy let herself in without knocking. She was wearing a yellow knit dress and yellow sandals. “I know. Too yellow, but Mother insisted.” She stopped and stared at Socko. “Tell me you’re going to change.”

  He glanced down at his cutoffs, sneakers without socks, the T-shirt that said, “I Brake for Cheese!” He’d tried to dress up for the open house, but his one pair of good pants was suddenly too short. Going as himself wasn’t his first choice, but it turned out to be his only option.

  “Pretend you don’t know me.” Socko adjusted Damien’s lid, pushing it down lower.

  “Not the hat! Please, please, please! Anything but the Superman hat!”

  “Not negotiable.” Wearing the hat was as close as he could get to having his best friend with him—plus today he needed all the invincibility he could get. “I’ll walk ten steps behind you.”

  She was about to launch another attack on his outfit when the cell phone on the kitchen counter rang.

  “Saved by the bell,” mumbled the General.

  Socko vaulted into the kitchen, sure that something had gone wrong on his mom’s new job, but when he picked up the phone, it said June Grimes was calling. Someone had found Junebug’s lost phone. “Hello?” he said.

  The breathless voice on the other end of the line was a kid’s. “He’s on his way!”

  “Damien? Is that you?”

  “No! This is the ghost of the cock-a-roach we zapped in the microwave! Yeah, it’s me. Who else would risk getting obliviated to warn you? Listen fast. I only got seconds while Meat runs a bag of puppy chow up to his mom. Rapp went to Junebug’s aunt and said he wanted to apologize to Junebug and she bought it. Her aunt didn’t know the address but she told him Moon Ridge Estates. He lit out of here, like, fifteen, twenty minutes ago. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—gotta bail!”

  “Damien!” Socko heard the click. Fifteen, twenty minutes ago? He had to mobilize, but Damien had always been the one with ideas. The phone in his hand rang again. He popped the button without checking the caller ID. “Damien!”

  “Holy mother of Mike!” Eddie Corrigan’s voice sputtered in his ear. “That guy you warned me about just drove up.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t raise the gate!”

  “Raise the gate? He broke it right off with his car when I wouldn’t let him in! Couldn’t stop him, but I put a honey of a dent in his trunk with my flashlight.”

  The phone nearly slid out of Socko’s sweaty hand. He caught it and pressed it to his ear. “Which way did he go?”

  “The long way. Turned left instead of right.”

  “Did you call 911? Uncle Eddie? Did you—” The phone went dead. Socko stared at it stupidly. Delia’s cheapo pay-as-you-go phone had just run out of minutes.

  When he looked up, the General and Livvy were in the kitchen doorway. “What the devil is going on?” asked his great-grandfather.

  “Junebug’s old boyfriend.” Socko kept his voice down. Although Junebug was upstairs, he wanted to make sure she didn’t hear what was going down. “He just drove his car through the gate—broke it clean off.”

  “Rapp’s coming here?” Livvy gasped.

  “Call 911,” the General ordered.

  “Can’t,” Socko whispered. “The phone’s dead.”

  They both turned to Livvy, who was permanently attached to her cell. She held out the sides of her skinny knit dress. “No pockets. I’ll run across the street and call from home.”

  Socko practically stepped on her bare heels as they raced out his door and across the street to her front door.

  She tried to turn the knob. “I must’ve locked it!”

  “Key?” he asked.

  She rested her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. “No pockets.”

  “Go back to my house, get inside. I’ll run to Luke’s.”

  “I’m going with you!”

  “No!” They were arguing about who would do what when a maroon Trans Am blew past the entrance to Tranquility Way. Socko heard the skid, then a squeal as Rapp threw it into reverse.

  In a heartbeat the car sat idling in the street in front of Livvy’s house. Rapp hung an arm out the window and gave the door a slap, fingers spread so the spider tattoo near his thumb was prominent. “Yo, Socko.”

  He stepped in front of Livvy. “Hey, Rapp.”

  “This your new place?”

  “No!” Livvy stepped out from behind him. “I live here.”

  “So, where do you live, Socko?”

  “On the other side of the project.” Socko could see the General’s white face at the window across the street, his wrinkled palms pressed to the glass.

  “Where?” Rapp demanded. “Junebug called, said she’s ready to go. I ain’t got all day.”

  Socko pointed down the street. “Okay … so … you turn around, get back on the circle, then make a right at Eclipse, then—”

  “Climb in.”

  “The address is 327 Eclipse. It’s real easy.”

  “Get in.”

  “Sure, okay.” By now Uncle Eddie had called 911; help would be here any second. But just in case, Socko turned to Livvy. “Tell Uncle Eddie I’ll help him out later.”

  “No!” She grabbed his hand and started to run, dragging him along. Rounding the back corner of the house, she gave one last hard tug and pulled him out of sight. “You are not getting in that car!” The engine roared, growing suddenly louder—and the Trans Am whipped around the corner of the house.

  Livvy screamed, but the car’s ferocious lunge stopped. Rapp’s tires churned the dirt as they fought to get traction. Still holding Livvy’s hand, Socko jerked her in a new direction. “Cross the street!” They ducked behind a house on the other side of Tranquility and kept running. Rapp must have driven over a curb as he followed them and knocked his muffler loose. Like a dog that had just had its muzzle taken off, the snarl of the engine exploded, but the sound seemed to be going away from them.

  Livvy fell back against the wall of an empty house and closed her eyes. Struggling for breath, Socko watched her heartbeat tick in one eyelid. Her eyes opened. “Socko, why are you breathing like that?”

  “I’m okay.” It wasn’t a full-blown asthma attack, but he could feel his chest getting tight.

  The engine sound was growing louder, and Livvy peered around the corner of the house. “Ohmygosh! He’s coming this way!”

  Socko looked too. Dragging beneath the car, the muffler clattered and sparked. “Maybe he won’t spot us.” But the car was slowing.

  “Like the yellow dress,” Rapp called from the street.

  Livvy pulled back. “I told Mother this outfit was a terrible idea!”

  “Where’s Junebug, Socko? Come on, I just wanna talk to her.” Rapp sounded reasonable but Socko’s heart pounded. He knew how quick Rapp’s temper could flare up.

  “I’m your worst nightmare, kid. Your worst. The longer you make me chase you, the deader you’ll be.”

  “Can you run?” Livvy whispered.

  “Yeah,” he wheezed.

  “If we stay off the roads it’ll be hard for him to follow in the car. We’ll lose him.”

  “I’ll lose him.” He held onto her shoulders. “Soon as he … chases me
… go to my house … get inside …”

  “No! I’m going with you.”

  “When Rapp says ‘dead’ he means … like … no longer breathing.”

  “You’re barely breathing right now. You need me!”

  The Trans Am revved.

  “I mean it … get lost!” Before he let go of her shoulders he pulled her toward him fast. He kissed her right on the mouth, then took off.

  “What was that about?” Livvy yelled, taking off after him.

  “I don’t know … quit following me!”

  She wouldn’t quit following him and Rapp wouldn’t quit following them. If only she wasn’t wearing that yellow dress. It fluttered like a flag as she ran, leading Rapp on.

  They ran through dirt yards, cutting across the spokes of the wheel of streets. But despite the dragging muffler, Rapp didn’t hesitate to go off-road. His spinning tires threw up volcanic plumes of dust.

  Socko felt as if someone had kicked a hole in his chest. Still, he leapt curbs, pounded across streets. He coughed … and kept going.

  “The tubes!” he gasped, jumping another curb. To lose Rapp they ran a zigzag pattern between houses. If they could duck into the drainage pipes on Harvest Moon he could stop, catch his breath, figure out what to do.

  The tubes were just ahead when the Trans Am lurched into sight. Rapp’s arm hung out the car window. “Run little bunnies! Run, run!”

  Shoulders hunched, they barreled through one of the tubes. The small but mighty ant flashed by, and they were out the other side.

  “Follow me!” Livvy doubled back, losing Rapp, then veered off and dashed into the see-through house and up the stairs. She danced out onto one of the beams and sat. “Come on, Socko!”

  Socko coughed as he ran up the stairs, coughed harder as he stumbled out onto the beam. He sat down hard beside her. “Why … are we here?” he choked. He couldn’t see the strategic advantage in hiding in a house without walls, but she was smart, she had to have a reason.

  “You can’t breathe!”

  “I’m breathing!” He gripped the beam with both hands, afraid he might pass out. “I used to … have asthma, but I’ll be okay. I … I … just have to calm down.” They listened for a minute, but couldn’t hear the sound of Rapp’s muffler dragging. “Maybe he won’t find us,” Socko said.

  “Maybe not.” She glanced at him, then looked away. “Did you ever kiss a girl before?”

  “No. That was a first. You?”

  “A first.”

  “Good.” Was that the right thing to say? He was in uncharted territory. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “You hear that?” Before she could answer, the car came into sight.

  “Sorry, Socko, sorry,” Livvy whispered. “Coming up here was a stupid idea.”

  “He still might not see us.”

  “You think he can miss us with me wearing this dress?”

  The Trans Am pulled slowly into the driveway. “Well, what do we have here?” The fingers on the hand hanging out the open window tapped the door lightly.

  As Rapp shut it down, the engine made a choking sound.

  In the sudden silence Rapp climbed out of the driver’s seat and took a slow walk around his “classic” car. A flashlight dent in the trunk harbored a pool of shadow. He kicked the dragging muffler. “Look what you made me do.” With his right hand he imitated the shape of a gun, closed one eye, and took aim at each of them. “Bam. Bam.”

  Livvy barely moved her lips. “Does he have a gun?”

  “I dunno.”

  They both let out an involuntary yelp when Rapp reached through the open car window. He retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his front seat and slid one out. “Why so jumpy? I ain’t begun to put the hurt on you yet.” The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he spoke. “Last chance, kiddies.” He tossed the cigarette pack through the open window of the Trans Am. “Take me to Junebug and you two are free to go on breathing. I’m bein’ generous.”

  “How’d you even figure out Junebug was here?” Socko called. He already knew it was Junebug’s churchy aunt, but the only hope he had was to kill time. By now someone had to have called 911.

  “Your buddy told me.” Rapp paused to light his cigarette. “Lil’ D was happy to draw me a map. More than happy to.”

  Socko remembered Damien running a finger along the map on the back of the brochure. Could Rapp be telling the truth? Socko closed his eyes a moment, and thought back to Damien’s call warning him that Rapp was coming.

  “The kid sure is loyal,” said Rapp, obviously enjoying the fact that the word “loyal” cut two ways. “I value that in a foot soldier.” He glared up at them out of the tops of his eyes. “And in a girlfriend.”

  Socko looked sideways at Livvy.

  “Hey!” Rapp pronged his fingers at them. “Eyes here. This is how it’s gonna go—I’m done playin’. You two come down and take me to Junebug.”

  “I’ll come down,” Socko said. “She stays up here.”

  “No!” Livvy grabbed Socko’s hand. “I don’t think he has a gun,” she whispered.

  Rapp lifted a foot and crushed the cigarette butt against the sole of his boot. “That’s it. Playtime’s over.” He strode toward the house and ran up the stairs, but his boots didn’t ring like they did on the metal steps to the roof. The space around Rapp was bigger here—and that made him smaller.

  Socko felt the wood give under the gang leader’s weight as he placed a foot on the beam. Rapp’s gangsta pants usually kept one of his hands busy acting as a belt, but he was going to need to hold his arms out for balance to walk the beam. His boxers ballooned above his drooping waistband. A bead of sweat dripped off his nose as he placed his other boot on the beam. His spread arms bobbled, like he was a kid playing airplane.

  Livvy let out a nervous laugh.

  Rapp found his balance. “You think that’s funny?” He slipped the knife out of his pocket.

  Livvy drew a sharp breath.

  With one small click, Rapp was big again. The bare blade in his hand caught the light as he took another awkward step. In the distance they heard the faint waa-waaa of a police siren. Rapp froze.

  Socko squeezed Livvy’s hand as the sound grew louder. Someone had made the call.

  But the siren never got any closer. Instead it grew fainter and fainter until it faded to nothing.

  “Bet some old lady called 911 ’cause her kitty’s up a tree.” Rapp danced a step closer. “This ain’t so hard.”

  “Do like you did last time,” Livvy whispered. She reached over and latched onto the next beam with both hands. He did the same. As they slid off the beam they’d been sitting on, Socko heard the twang of the two-by-four’s rebound, followed by a thud and a loud groan.

  Livvy stuck her landing, but Socko hit the floor off balance and pitched forward. His hands were sliding across the rough wood when something shiny landed in front of him with a thwack. The knife that had fallen out of Rapp’s hand quivered between his splayed fingers, the blade driven into the floor. Socko looked up.

  Rapp lay on the beam above him, his arms and legs wrapped around it.

  Gripping the handle of the knife, Socko jerked it free. He pushed the button and retracted the blade.

  “Come on, Socko!” Livvy urged. “Come on! Come on!” And they ran.

  The knife in his hand felt wrong. He didn’t want it, but he didn’t want to leave it where Rapp could find it either. Without breaking stride, he dropped the switchblade into one of the plastic pipes sticking out of the ground and followed Livvy as she took cover behind a house.

  37

  MOON LANDING

  They stood, trying to catch their breath so they could run again.

  “How long can we keep this up?” Livvy gasped.

  And that’s when it hit him.

  He and Livvy were the prey, Rapp was the predator. But in the wild the predator, no matter how superior, lost the prey more often than he caught it—especially if the prey knew the territory.

&nbs
p; He grabbed her wrist. “This way!”

  She held back. “This way! That way! We can’t outrun him. We need a plan!”

  “I’ve got one. Run, now!”

  “Now?” They could hear the muffler scraping along the street as the car slowly prowled. “He’ll see us!”

  “I’m counting on it,” Socko said. “We’re not running away anymore. We’re leading him.”

  “Leading him where?”

  But the car had reached the distance that tripped an imaginary wire. “Go!” Socko yelled, and they took off again.

  They zigzagged toward Socko’s goal, Rapp sometimes no more than a few car lengths away.

  The dragging muffler threw sparks as it bounced along Blue Moon Drive. Socko and Livvy dodged from one house to the next, Livvy’s dress the bright flag that waved Rapp on. “Hear that?” Livvy panted. “Another siren!”

  “Almost there!” They were running behind a row of houses as the Trans Am paralleled them on the street. Temporarily out of sight, Socko slowed and held out his hand for Livvy to stop. “The clubhouse is just ahead. When I tell you to, we’ll run for it.”

  “We can’t get in,” said Livvy. “There’s no one there.”

  Rapp leaned on his horn.

  “I know!” Socko yelled over the horn blast. “I want you to break left, go around back. Stop at the deep end of the pool.”

  “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “No, but it’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Don’t be a hero.”

  “Me, a hero? Not a chance. Now, go!”

  The horn was still blaring as they pelted toward the brick building. Livvy kept running, but Socko stopped. He was relieved when the yellow dress disappeared around the corner. Behind him the horn blast stopped. He turned and faced the car that idled half a block away.

  Rapp floored it.

  Socko’s legs ached to run but, feet spread, he faced the onrushing car. He stood his ground until its double headlights became the multiple eyes of a hunting spider—and then counted to three. When the Trans Am jumped the curb, Socko bolted for the opposite end of the clubhouse.