The Pet Part 29

The door closed, hissing.

It certainly wasn't any of his affair, but indecision kept him from leaving. Only last year, after a particularly unruly homecoming rally, he had on a hunch used the upstairs doors and stepped into the balcony, and had discovered two students s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g their brainless heads off in the front row. No alarm was raised; he just sidled into the shadows and watched, excited not by the scene but by the spontaneity of what he saw-most of his films at home he could replay in his sleep without missing a frame.

It was possible, then, that after today's emotional charging, someone had gotten a similar idea.

He checked the front-there was no one in the plaza, no car waiting at the curb.

Then, on his toes and breathing shallowly through his mouth, he hurried to the door, took the handle, and pulled it slowly to him, just enough to permit him to slip inside.

268.

Someone was there.

He could barely see across the rows of dark upholstered seats, and the stage lit by a single bulb in its center was perfectly bare save for an old battered couch against the rear curtain-draped wall.

But years of keeping his eyes on cla.s.ses with his back turned had given him, he knew, a certain honing of a sixth sense, and he knew beyond doubt he wasn't alone in the dark-walled cavern.

Carefully he slipped on tiptoe down the center aisle, stopping at everyrow to check its length on both sides, ears almost p.r.i.c.ked to catch the slightest hint of panting, of clothes rustling, of moans smothered by kisses.

By the time he was ten rows down, he was out from under the balcony's overhang, and he looked to see if perhaps the culprits were up there.

Looked back and saw it standing at the door.

"Jesus," he said, and his voice echoed in the empty auditorium, and came back to him, whispering, almost like a prayer.

Greeneyes, staring.

There was no curiosity about what it was, where it came from, what it was doing here. He turned and ran down the rest of the aisle, swearing at the weight he carried when he swerved to the right and slammed into a chair, stumbled forward, and had to grab the back of the next one to keep from falling. As he did, he was turned around, and the stallion was coming toward him. One step at a time.

Greenfire, flaring.

I'm going to die, he thought, and he didn't know why.

The fear that sent a warm wetness down his legs didn't keep him from running again, not stopping until he came up against the stage ap.r.o.n with a jarring, wind-stealing collision. He swallowed bile, shook perspiration from his eyes, and lifted a leg to hoist himself up. He failed once and 269.

whimpered, tried a second time and made it, rolling onto his back, spread-eagled for a moment while the stallion kept walking, out of the dark.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

He looked wildly to the wings as he scrambled to his feet, hoping that D'Amato hadn't locked the doors leading to the halls beyond. Squinted at the balcony in case the custodian was there, then looked at the creature that had stopped in the aisle's center.

Its ears were back, its eyes narrow and watching, and there was no chance at all it was a joke and he knew it.

It ran.

One moment it was there, a foreleg pawing the aisle's carpet into green flame, the next its muscles rippled and launched it into a full gallop.

Adam gaped, momentarily frozen.

The stallion filled the air with smoke and flame.

For a reason he never knew, Adam looked up at the bulb that formed his own spotlight, and when he looked down he was partially blinded.

But not blinded enough not to see the stallion in the air, leaping easily from the floor to the stage, gliding, glowing, its mouth openedand teeth bared as its head lunged for his throat.

Adam screamed.

The bulb shattered.

And greenfire in the dark that here and there shone on red.

270.

270.

271.

Thirteen.Norman was sitting on the porch steps when Don came home. The clouds were still ponderously gathering and the yard was already nearly dark, the streetlamps already on and laying dull silver over the gra.s.s and blacktop. The porchlight was glowing a faint yellow as he turned onto the walk hesitantly, unsure why his father should be out here like this-without a coat, his tie off, an empty gla.s.s in his hand.

"Hi," Norman said, and patted the step beside him.

"Hi." Don sat, holding his books snugly in his lap. He hoped this wasn't going to be an attempt at a father-and-son night. If it was, he might blurt out what he knew, and then he would learn what his father really thought about him.

"What did you think of the pep rally?"

"It was okay, I guess."

"Roused the troops' blood, I think."

"I suppose."

"Gonna smash North's face in tonight, I bet. Brian looked like he was ready to kill anything that moved."

Don hadn't noticed.

"A shame about Tar. Kid could've been a real star 272.

someday. Pratt hasn't got a chance; his head's too big. Boston knew his limitations. You gotta know that to make it big in the world."

"Tar's dead," Don said flatly.

"Yeah. What a b.i.t.c.h." He s.h.i.+fted, belched, ran his hands over his hair.

"Cheerleaders have nice legs, you ever notice that? I mean, when you're not talking to the animals, you ever notice that cheerleaders have interesting legs, son?"

Don didn't know what to say, and so said nothing.

Norman took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. "You're probablywondering what I'm doing out here, right? I'll probably catch pneumonia and miss the game which, considering the relative importance of this week, is not the proper thing to do."

The smell of bourbon was not quite a stench, his father's hair not quite untidily mussed over his forehead.

"Well, I'll tell you, son. I'm waiting for your mother."

Don winced, but Norman didn't see it; he was staring at the lawn and turning the gla.s.s around and around between his fingers. Finally he lifted his chest as if taking in a sigh.

"You remember that G.o.dd.a.m.ned rude question you asked us a few days ago?

You remember that, Donald?"

He did. With a clarity that made him take the inside of his cheek with his teeth and bite down, hard.

"Well, I suppose you deserve an answer. After all, you are my sole surviving heir. You are soon to launch yourself upon the unsuspecting world and start your own G.o.dd.a.m.ned life." He lay a hand on Don's knee and gripped it, ma.s.saged it, pulled the hand away. "You know, your grandfather used to tell me, when he was busting his hump down there in the mills and getting nothing for it but a kick in the a.s.s, even when he became foreman, he used to say that you ought never to plan for your own future because that road you're walking is made of s.h.i.+t. Some of it hard enough to go over, some of it soft enough to drop you in up to your a.s.s.

But it's 273.

still s.h.i.+t. He said you should make a future for your kids, like he was doing for me. He said it's the only way people are going to remember you.

"He was right, you know, so don't look so shocked. It's all s.h.i.+t, Donald, and I'm telling you that like my father told me. Of course, some of it, you learn to live with it, if you know what I mean. And some of it can actually do you some good, you know?

"Like Falcone. He's s.h.i.+t. He wants to take his dumba.s.s teachers out on strike and he would have done it first thing Monday morning, but you know what that stupid ginzo did? Aside from pulling that stunt with your grades, do you have any idea what that jacka.s.s did?"

Don looked away, hoping that by swallowing hard enough he wouldn't have to cry. He was beginning to understand why he thought the bourbon smelled sour.

"Oh," Norman said. "Oh, you saw them."

He nodded.

"Dumbest thing I ever saw." Norman laughed sharply. "He actually ran out of the school and into his car. His car, mind. And there she was, all dressed up like Greta Garbo, like n.o.body would know who the h.e.l.l she was. The mystery woman in Harry Falcone's life, you see what I mean?

Well, that was dumb, Donald. Dumb. Because now he can whistle Dixie naked on the boulevard and he ain't gonna get one teacher to follow his a.s.s."Good s.h.i.+t for me, bad s.h.i.+t for him."

"Dad, please."

Norman set the gla.s.s on the edge of the step between them; Don grabbed it before it could fall and put it on the porch.

"Yes," Norman said.

Don looked at him.

"The answer to your question is yes. I probably knew that the day Sam died and your mother blamed me because we went camping instead of farting around at the sh.o.r.e like she 274.

wanted. At the sh.o.r.e they had hospitals. Camping has trees, and if your mother thinks I don't miss him, she's dumber than I think."

Don stood, but Norman froze him with a sideways look.

"You don't like to hear me talk about your mother that way, and to tell you the truth, I don't like to hear me say it. She's a h.e.l.l of a woman, Don, a h.e.l.l of a woman. So when she gets back from wherever the h.e.l.l she went with that slick, greasy idiot, I'm going to put it to her-make a choice, Joyce. You either got to stick with your family, or stick with him." He shook his head slowly and sucked at his teeth. "I think it was my news that made her do it though. I got to give her that. Up until now she was keeping it all quiet and careful. My fault, I guess."

"What news?" Don whispered.

"I'm going to quit at the end of the year."

"What?"

"Don't shout, boy. I'm your father."

"Quit? You mean ... quit school? Your job?"

You're drunk, he thought; you're drunk, you're drunk!

"d.a.m.n right. Told her this afternoon. Falcone, the board, they can take the school and every kid inside and shove it where the sun don't s.h.i.+ne, you'd better believe I'm quitting."

"But why?"

"My father told me that the only way you can make it in this world, walking on s.h.i.+t the whole time, is by making money. And he was right.

You can't live like a human being unless you have money. Lots of money.

I sure as h.e.l.l ain't gonna make it as a princ.i.p.al, now am I? No way in h.e.l.l."

Don tried to find a way to breathe and leaned hard against the railing.

"What are you going to do then?"

"Ah, you haven't been listening to your mother, son. You haven't been watching the way Garziana's been treating me lately.""Garziana? Mayor Garziana?" Punch drunk; somehow he 275.

was punch drunk; he had to be, or else he wouldn't feel like laughing.

Norman nodded, looking at his hands as if expecting the gla.s.s to still be there. "I'm going to run next fall, Don. Your mother thought I was kidding when I told her the first time. But I've been thinking about it, thinking hard, and I've been taking a look around to see what Garziana has for himself. He has it good, son. He has it d.a.m.ned good for a little s.h.i.+ttown like this."

Don took hold of the railing and pulled himself to the porch.

"She thinks I'm crazy. She made a good point though- that the real money won't start coming until I've been in office a few years. Means a little sacrifice here and there; the job itself doesn't pay s.h.i.+t, but it'll be worth it in the long run, no question about it. I got it straight from the horse's mouth."

"School," Don said hoa.r.s.ely. "What about ..."

"You got any prospects for scholars.h.i.+ps?"

"Oh, no, please, Dad. No, please."

"Y'know, I think ... I wouldn't be surprised if she thought I clobbered that poor kid last night for what he did to my car."

Don looked wildly to the front door, looked back and saw his father watching him. "You were in my room!" he accused, not caring how drunk Norman was.

"d.a.m.n right I was. I got nosey. It's my G.o.dd.a.m.ned house and I wanted a closer look at all your little buddies in there, try to figure out where the h.e.l.l your head is at. I got to admit I still don't know, but I do know you're not very smart, Don. You shouldn't have left those keys on your desk." He turned slightly and leaned an elbow on the top step. "I'm not stupid, Donald. Don't you ever think I'm stupid. I don't know what you were thinking of when you didn't tell me about Tar, but I know you thought I was going to kill that 276.

little sonofab.i.t.c.h. Why did you do it? Were you going to do it yourself?"

Don turned away from the laughter that began as a chuckle and ended in choking. He opened the door, dizzy and wanting to run for the bathroom.