Strange Robby

by Selina Rosen

They laughed at him and the bigger one, Johnny 'Round House,' the only thirteen-year-old in the fifth grade, shoved him in the shoulder so that he hit the wall again. More of the contents of Mark's pack rained onto the ground.

  "Stutter why don't ya, ya whinin' little flinch." He laughed. "Oh, I'm gonna love kickin' your pussy ass."

  The other kid was a lot bigger than Mark, but he was only a year older. Everyone knew that Teddy Miller wasn't the real menace. He just didn't like getting teased for being fat and stupid, and being Johnny's best friend meant he didn't have to worry about that.

  "L . . . leave me alone. I . . . I'm warning you!" Mark stammered out.

  Johnny punched him in the mouth hard, and his head spun.

  "Hey, Johnny! That's enough, man," Teddy said. "You said we was jus' gonna scare him a little."

  "Get on outtah here if you can't hack it, Teddy," Johnny said.

  "Don't hurt him, Johnny. He ain't a bad dude," Teddy said.

  "Get the fuck outtah here, Teddy!" Johnny screamed.

  "Fuck you, Johnny," Teddy turned and left.

  Mark watched him go. No hope that he'd run to get help, didn't have the balls for that. He didn't want to be part of beating Mark up, which made him better than most. But he was too worried about his own skin, too afraid of breaking the playground code to help Mark.

  Mark was scared. This guy was a dark void sucking in any light that touched him and diminishing it. Johnny had it in his mind to hurt him. Hurt him bad.

  Mark had the power to stop him. He could stop him the same way he'd stopped Mr. Ryan's damned old pit bull from biting him.

  Johnny pulled back to hit him again. Mark didn't stammer this time. He stood up as straight and as tall as he could.

  "If you hit me one more time I'm gonna kill you, Johnny Round House," Mark hissed.

  Johnny laughed and hit him.

  Mark stared at Johnny and smiled. "That's three," he said mimicking Principle Whitters. Johnny went flying across the alley, hit the wall and exploded.

  Mark picked up his stuff and ran.

  "You know, like you'd say that the American Indians inhabited most areas of the United States, but then you'd say that your friend Joe is a Choctaw. Or the Cherokee of western Oklahoma had their own written language," Tommy said.

  "You make fun of me for having 'To much sex,' as if that could ever really happen, and then you and your wife spend your spare time figuring out shit like this?" Spider said with a laugh.

  "Don't you think that would be better?" Tommy asked seriously.

  Spider shrugged. "I guess. I never really thought about it one way or the other. No blood in my brain, don't you know?"

  The call came in on the car's comlink.

  "Hey guys! Fry Guy's back. Alley directly behind Harvest School."

  "That's fucking impossible!" Spider swore.

  Tommy could tell by the look on her face that this was completely unexpected.

  "Shit!" She looked out the window so that he couldn't see her face.

  "We're on our way," Tommy said into the link. He turned the link off and stared at Spider. "I thought you said he'd always kill. That he couldn't help it."

  "Yeah, but I . . . " Spider let the sentence die.

  "You what, Spider?" Tommy asked. "What did you do?"

  "It's not important."

  But it was. She thought she'd taken care of the problem, gotten the SWTF of their backs. Now the nightmare was back.

  Spider saw what no one else did. A smashed down place in the garbage where someone had been standing, and a couple of broken pencils on the ground. She purposely didn't walk over and check it out.

  "He was . . . Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he was a bad kid," Principle Whitters said. "A bully really."

  Spider glared at the man. He was one to talk; he was nothing more than a bully himself. A scrawny, ugly, short guy, he no doubt couldn't hold his own with his peers. So he got a job where there were people he could push around. Some graffiti scrawled across the alley wall told how the kids felt about him. In big red block letters it read 'Child Molester Whitters, humps all sorts of critters.'

  "Who the hell are those guys?" the principle asked.

  Spider looked up and saw the SWTF guys. She frowned, then said to the principle, "It's OK, they're supposed to be here. You were saying about Johnny?"

  "He . . . well, he'd already been in juvey twice for . . . well beating people up. Johnny put a twelve-year-old boy in the hospital when he was only eleven."

  "And he's still in school?" Tommy asked in disbelief.

  "Not my fault." Whitters shrugged. "According to the state law, as long as the kids are of school age they have to be in school."

  "Were there any kids in particular that he was messing around with?" Spider asked.

  The principle shrugged. "Who wasn't he bullying would be a better question." He snapped his fingers then. "He has a friend, Teddy Miller. He's always with Johnny; he might know something."

  "Thanks." Spider walked away and Tommy followed. She punched in the kid's name and in seconds her comlink spit out an address.

  "Or maybe he's in the alley being scraped off the wall with Johnny." Spider knew what Tommy was thinking; he didn't have to say anything. "How did they identify the body anyway?"

  "Kid had a fake ID," Spider said nonchalantly. She walked past the SWTF guys and they smiled. "Let's go talk to the Miller kid."

  Mark dialed the phone with trembling fingers. Most days he hated it when he came home to an empty house, but today he was glad.

  The phone rang once, twice. "Come on, you stupid mother fucker! Pick up the phone," Mark hissed.

  "Hello?" a woman answered.

  "Hello, ma'am. Is Teddy home?"

  "Teddy!" The woman screamed. "Phone!"

  Mark waited. It was only a few seconds before Teddy answered.

  "Yeah," he said, obviously around a mouthful of food.

  "I killed Johnny. You'll know that's the truth in a little while," Mark said. "If you tell anyone about me, I'll kill you, too." Mark hung up quick.

  Teddy looked at the phone and shrugged. Some kind of stupid joke. He hoped Mark did kick Johnny's ass. It would serve Johnny right for being such a prick.

  The doorbell rang.

  "I got it, Mom!" Teddy screamed and took another bite of sandwich. He walked over and opened the door still chewing. He looked up at the two people standing there. "What?" he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

  The man and woman showed him their comlinks. "Are one of your parents home, son?"

  "Mom!" Teddy screamed. His mom came, and she and the cops went into the dining room to talk. Teddy sat in the living room and pretended to watch TV, but he was sweating. They must have found out that it was he and Johnny that tagged the school. His mom was going to kill him.

  "Teddy, come here please," his mother called.

  He could tell she was crying, but she didn't sound mad.

  Teddy walked slowly into the room. His mother jumped out of her chair and ran over and hugged him tight.

  "Wha . . . what's going on?" he asked.

  She sat him down in a chair and dried her face with the backs of her hands. "Teddy . . . " her voice broke and she calmed herself down. "Teddy, something terrible has happened. Johnny has been killed."

  Teddy dropped his sandwich. He remembered the phone call. He was sad and terrified all at the same time. "Somebody killed Johnny?" Teddy cried.

  "Yes, son," the chink cop said. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you some questions."

  "I don' know nothin'!" Teddy cried. He held his stomach. He felt like he was going to barf. "I didn't see nothin'. He was fine when I left him."

  "When is the last time you saw him?" the man asked.

  "At school," Teddy lied. He couldn't believe this. That little sissy Mark had killed Johnny? If he could kill Johnny, he could kill Teddy easy. But if the cops took Mark in he'd be safe. "Who killed him?" he cried. Maybe they already had Mark, then it would be
safe to tell the truth.

  "A criminal the papers and TV have been calling the Fry Guy." It was the woman who answered his question, and he really looked at her for the first time. He saw her hands and couldn't look away. He jumped and moved quickly away from her, still staring at her hands.

  "I . . . I didn' see nothin'. I wish I did, but I didn' and now my best friend is dead." He looked the woman in the eyes. "Please, I don' know nothin'. Jus' leave me alone." He ran out of the room.

  He hid in the hallway where he could hear, but couldn't be seen.

  "I'm sorry," his mom said. "But they were very close. You must realize what a shock this has been for him."

  "It's all right. I understand," the man said. "Doesn't look like Teddy can help us anyway. I'm very sorry about your son's friend. Thank you very much for your cooperation."

  Teddy poked his head out as he heard the front door open. The woman turned quickly and stared right into his eyes. He couldn't look away. It was like when Child Molester Whitters looked at him when he was in trouble—only this was worse. His flesh crawled. He was glad when she turned around, and gladder still when the door closed behind her.

  Teddy collapsed in a puddle on the floor, crying, and his mother came and held him. He had a good mother, the best mother; she would be ashamed if she knew the kind of things he had been doing. No more, he wasn't going to do anything bad anymore, because he didn't want to hurt his mother. Because if he did something bad, they would come and get him, and now they knew where he was.

  "You're awfully quiet," Tommy said.

  Spider heard it in his voice. He was mad. She could feel his anger and frustration. He blamed her.

  "It's not my fault, Tommy."

  "A kid is dead!" Tommy said. "A thirteen year old kid. Your precious avenger killed a kid."

  "Hitler was a kid, Jim Jones, Jeffrey Dahlmer," Spider said. "Who knows what Johnny Pots might have become?"

  "We'll never know because he's dead now!" Tommy shook his head. "He was a school yard bully. So what! Are you suggesting that we just go around and kill every school yard bully?"

  "I'm suggesting that psychotic behaviors start in childhood. The Fry Guy knows who is truly evil. This child was evil, and he killed him," she said.

  "How can you rationalize this?" Tommy said. "He blew that kid up all over the alley."

  "Maybe it wasn't him," Spider said.

  "You're saying there's more than one of them?" Tommy said.

  Spider was silent.

  "That's what you're saying, isn't it? We have a second killer."

  Spider shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. I do know one thing. That kid was lying. He saw something, and he's too scared to say what."

  "We should pump him, then. Break him down till he tells us what he knows," Tommy said.

  Spider shook her head no. "Do that and I'm afraid we'll have more than one dead kid."

  Mark snuggled into his bed, pulling his covers up over his head, hoping to keep everything out. It wasn't working, because he was the scariest thing he knew. He shouldn't have killed Johnny, shouldn't have blown him up.

  He'd warned him, and Johnny just wouldn't listen. Wouldn't stop. He never did. He was mean to everyone, and he didn't think there was anything wrong with it. He had been dark and bad, and he deserved to die. Mark had to make himself believe that, or he was going to go crazy.

  His mother came in flipping on the lights and he jerked violently. She sat down on the corner of his bed.

  "Honey, are you all right?" she asked.

  He uncovered his head slowly. "I'm scared," he said. "Real scared."

  "It's OK, Honey, nothing like that's going to happen to you. You're a good kid, and this Fry Guy only kills bad people."

  Mark nodded silently. He looked at his mother. He looked nothing like his mother or father, and nothing like his baby sister. They were all blonde, and he had black hair. They had brown eyes; his eyes were a weird, almost-blue color. They tanned, and he didn't. He knew he was adopted, but he didn't tell them that he knew.

  When you were adopted that meant your real parents didn't want you, but that your adopted parents wanted you more than anything. He loved his mom and dad. He was glad that they pretended to be his real parents.

  His mom hugged him then. "We wouldn't let anything happen to you," she said, rocking him back and forth. She kissed him on the top of his head and started to leave.

  "Mom?"

  She turned in the door. "Yes, Baby?"

  "I am good, aren't I?"

  She smiled at him. "Very good, now try to get some sleep." She turned out his light and left his door open.

  "Is he all right?" he heard his dad ask his mom.

  "He's scared. Can't say I blame him," she answered.

  "I hate to say this, because I know he was just a kid, but the way he's been bullying Mark, hitting him. I figure he got what was coming to him," his father said.

  "Jared! What a horrible thing to say!" Mom scolded him.

  "Kid shouldn't have been in school with the other kids to begin with. He should have been in prison. I mean, just look at Mark's face."

  "With this lunatic running around. Well, maybe I ought to have mother pick Mark up from school for awhile."

  "That's not a bad Idea, although I don't think the Fry Guy would be interested in Mark. He's a good kid."

  Mark smiled and snuggled into his bed. Mom and Dad thought he was good. Dad said Johnny Round House got what was coming to him, and everyone thought the Fry Guy killed him, so everything could get back to normal now. If he could just quit thinking about it.

  The doorbell rang.

  "I got it!" Carrie called out.

  "Good. Freaking Tommy! I think he broke every bone in my body." Spider groaned from her chair. The workout had been rougher than usual. Probably because Tommy was holding her personally responsible for that kid getting blown all over the alleyway.

  Carrie looked through the peephole. "Spider, some strange black man is standing on our porch holding a TV."

  "Oh shit!" Spider jumped up and ran to the front door, temporarily forgetting how stiff and sore she was. She shoved Carrie aside, none to delicately, and looked through the peephole. "Ah shit! Ah shit!" She ran her hands down her face. The doorbell rang again. She opened the door and jerked Robby inside, TV and all. "What the hell are you doing?" She spat at him.

  "Br . . . bringing your TV back. I fixed it."

  "Mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Carrie asked.

  "Ah . . . Robby had my TV," Spider said quickly. "He was fixing it." She quickly thought over what she had said and assessed the situation. "He's had the damned thing for months, and now he delivers it in the middle of the night."

  "I'm . . . I'm really sorry."

  "Sorry, I'll give you sorry!" Spider took the TV and set it down on a table in the hallway. "Come on outside and let's talk."

  "What the hell is going on?" Carrie demanded.

  "I can take care of this, Carrie."

  Spider grabbed Robby by the arm and drug him outside. She closed the door behind her leaving Carrie in the house.

  Spider jerked on Robby's arm and whispered. "What the hell were you thinking coming here, around Carrie? That's really stupid, Robby. Really, really stupid."

  "I'm sorry, but I wanted to let you know that I didn't ice that kid. I didn't break our agreement. I wouldn't."

  Spider sighed deeply. They had reached his truck, so she turned him loose and he turned to face her.

  "I don't want Carrie put in the middle of this. I don't want her to become a target."

  "I'm sorry. I thought if I brought the TV back that would be good cover."

  Spider nodded. "It was. I'm just a little paranoid. Don't know why, but a simple thing like having a serial killer drop by the house in the middle of the night when I'm living with the DA and have the SWTF breathing down my neck makes me tense."

  "I'm sorry," Robby said. "I didn't know what else to do. What do I do now?"

  "We'll never
get rid of the bastards if they find out there are two of you. Unless of course they know about this one." Spider was thoughtful. "Robby, you got a shopping list?"

  Robby smiled then, his teeth shining in the moonlight. "Just say the word."