sk.dreamcatcher-第33部分

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　　　　'Would　that　be　okay；　Missus　Cavell？'　Beaver　asks　her。　'Because　we　could　do　it；　easy。　Or　maybe　you　don't　want　us　to。'
　　　　Something　plicated　happens　to　Mrs　CaveE's　face　…　there　are　all　those　little　twitches；　mostly　under　the　skin。　One　eye　almost　winks；　and　then　the　other　one　does　wink。　She　takes　a　handkerchief　from　her　pocket　and　blows　her　nose。　Beaver　thinks；　She's　trying　not　to　laugh　at　us。　When　he　tells　Henry　that　as　they　are　walking　home；　Jonesy　and　Pete　already　dropped　off；　Henry　will　look　at　him　with　utter　astonishment。　Cry　is　what　she　was　tryin　not　to　do；　he　will　say　。　。　。　and　then；　affectionately；　after　a　pause：　Dope。
　　　　'You　would　do　that？'　she　asks；　and　when　Henry　nods　for　all　of　them；　she　changes　the　question　slightly。　'Why　would　you　do　that？'　Henry　looks　around　as　if　to　say　Someone　else　take　this　one；　willya？
　　　　Pete　says；　'We　like　him；　ma'am。'
　　　　Jonesy　is　nodding。　'I　like　the　way　he　carries　his　lunchbox　over　his　head…'
　　　　'Yeah；　that's　bitchin；'　Pete　says。　Henry　kicks　him　under　the　table。　Pete　replays　what　he　just　said　…　you　can　see　him　doing　it　and　begins　blushing　furiously。
　　　　Mrs　Cavell　appears　not　to　notice。　She's　looking　at　Henry　with　fixed　intensity。　'He　has　to　go　by　quarter　of　eight；'　she　says。
　　　　'We're　always　near　here　by　then；'　Henry　replies。　'Aren't　we；　you　guys？'
　　　　And　although　seven　forty…five　is　in　fact　a　little　early　for　them；　they　all　nod　and　say　yeah　right　sure　yeah。　　　
　　　　'You　would　do　that？'　she　asks　again；　and　this　time　Beaver　has　no　trouble　reading　her　tone；　she　is　incredyouwhatsis；　the　word　that　means　you　can't　fuckin　believe　it。
　　　　'Sure；'　Henry　says。　'Unless　you　think　Duddits　wouldn't　。　。　。　you　know　。　。　。'
　　　　'Wouldn't　want　us　to；'　Jonesy　finishes。
　　　　'Are　you　crazy？'　she　asks。　Beaver　thinks　she　is　speaking　to　herself；　trying　to　convince　herself　that　these　boys　are　really　in　her　kitchen；　that　all　of　this　is　in　fact　happening。　'Walking　to　school　with　the　big　boys？　Boys　who　go　to　what　Duddits　calls　〃real　school〃？　He'd　think　he　was　in　heaven。'
　　　　'Okay；'　Henry　says。　'We'll　e　by　quarter　of　eight；　walk　him　to　school。　And　we'll　walk　home　with　him；　too。'
　　　　'He　gets　out　at…'
　　　　'Aw；　we　know　what　time　The　Retard　Academy　gets　out；'　Beaver　says　cheerfully；　and　realizes　a　second　before　he　sees　the　others'　stricken　faces　that　he's　said　something　a　lot　worse　than　bitchin。　He　claps　his　hands　over　his　mouth。　Above　them；　his　eyes　are　huge。　Jonesy　kicks　his　shin　so　hard　under　the　table　that　Beav　almost　tumbles　over　backward。
　　　　'Don't　mind　him；　ma'am；'　Henry　says。　He　is　talking　rapidly；　which　he　only　does　when　he's　embarrassed。　'He　just…'
　　　　'I　don't　mind；'　she　says。　'I　know　what　people　call　it。　Sometimes　Alfie　and　I　call　it　that　ourselves。'　This　topic；　incredibly；　hardly　seems　to　interest　her。　'Why？'　she　says　again。
　　　　And　although　it's　Henry　she's　looking　at；　it's　Beaver　who　answers；　in　spite　of　his　blazing　cheeks。　'Because　he's　cool；'　he　says。　The　others　nod。
　　　　They　will　walk　Duddits　to　school　and　back　for　the　next　five　years　or　so；　unless　he　is　sick　or　they　are　at　Hole　in　the　Wall；　by　the　end　of　it　Duddits　is　no　longer　going　to　Mary　M。　Snowe；　aka　The　Retard　Academy；　but　to　Derry　Vocational；　where　he　learns　to　bake　cookies　（baitin　tooties；　in　Duddits…ese）；　replace　car　batteries；　make　change；　and　fie　his　own　tie　（the　knot　is　always　perfect；　although　it　sometimes　appears　about　halfway　down　his　shirt）。　By　then　the　Josie　Rinkenhauer　thing　has　e　and　gone；　a　little　nine　days'　wonder　forgotten　by　everyone　except　Josie's　parents；　who　will　never　forget。　In　those　years　when　they　walk　with　him　to　and　from　his　school；　Duddits　will　sprout　up　until　he's　the　tallest　of　all　of　them；　a　gangly　teenager　with　a　strangely　beautiful　child's　face。　By　then　they　will　have　taught　him　how　to　play　Parcheesi　and　a　simplified　version　of　Monopoly；　by　then　they　will　have　invented　the　Duddits　Game　and　played　it　incessantly；　sometimes　laughing　so　hard　that　Alfie　Cavell　（he　was　the　tall　one　of　the　pair；　but　he　also　had　a　birdie　look　about　him）　would　e　to　the　head　of　the　stairs　in　the　kitchen；　the　ones　that　led　to　the　rec　room；　and　yell　down　at　them；　wanting　to　know　what　was　going　on；　what　was　so　funny；　and　maybe　they　would　try　to　explain　that　Duddits　had　pegged　Henry　fourteen　on　a　two　hand　or　that　Duddits　had　pegged　Pete　fifteen　backward；　but　Alfie　never　seemed　to　get　it；　he'd　stand　there　at　the　head　of　the　stairs　with　a　section　of　the　newspaper　in　his　hand；　smiling　perplexedly；　and　at　last　he'd　always　say　the　same　thing；　Keep　it　down　to　a　dull　roar；　boys；　and　close　the　door；　leaving　them　to　their　own　devices　。　。　。　and　of　all　those　devices　the　Duddits　Game　was　the　best；　totally　bitchin；　as　Pete　would　have　said。　There　were　times　when　Beaver　thought　he　might　actually　laugh　until　he　exploded；　and　Duddits　sitting　there　all　the　time　on　the　rug　beside　the　big　old　Parkmunn　cribbage　board；　feet　folded　under　him　and　grinning　like　Buddha。　What　a　fuckaree！　All　of　that　ahead　of　them　but　now　just　this　kitchen；　and　the　surprising　sun；　and　Duddits　outside；　pushing　the　swings。　Duddits　who　had　done　them　such　a　favor　by　ing　into　their　lives。　Duddits　who　is　…　they　know　it　from　the　first　…　not　like　anyone　else　they　know。
　　　　'I　don't　see　how　they　could　have　done　it；'　Pete　says　suddenly。　'The　way　he　was　crying。　I　don't　see　how　they　could　have　gone　on　teasing　him。'
　　　　Roberta　Cavell　looks　at　him　sadly。　'Older　boys　don't　hear　him　the　same　way；'　she　says。　'I　hope　you　never　understand。'


6

'Jonesy！'　Beaver　shouted。　'Hey；　Jonesy！'
　　　　This　time　there's　a　response；　faint　but　unmistakable。　The　snowmobile　shed　was　a　kind　of　ground…level　attic；　and　one　of　the　things　out　there　was　an　old…fashioned　bulb　horn；　the　kind　a　bicycle　deliveryman　back　in　the　twenties　or　thirties　might　have　had　mounted　on　the　handlebars　of　his　bike。　Now　Beaver　heard　it：　Ooogah！　How…oogah！　A　noise　that　surely　would　have　made　Duddits　laugh　until　he　cried　…　a　sucker　for　big；　juicy　noises；　that　had　been　ole　Duds。
　　　　The　filmy　blue　shower　curtain　rustled　and　the　Beav's　arms　broke　out　in　lush　bundles　of　gooseflesh。　For　a　moment　he　almost　leaped　up；　thinking　that　it　was　McCarthy；　then　realized　he'd　brushed　the　curtain　with　his　own　elbow　…　it　was　close　quarters　in　here；　close　quarters；　no　doubt　…　and　settled　back。　Still　nothing　from　beneath　him；　though；　that　thing；　whatever　it　was；　was　either　dead　or　gone。　For　certain。
　　　　Well　。　。　。　almost　for　certain。
　　　　The　Beav　reached　behind　him；　fingered　the　flush　lever　for　a　moment；　then　let　his　hand　fall　away。　Sit　tight；　Jonesy　had　said；　and　Beaver　would；　but　why　the　fuck　didn't　Jonesy　e　back？　If　he　couldn't　find　the　tape；　why　didn't　he　just　e　back　without　it？　It　had　to　have　been　at　least　ten　minutes　now；　didn't　it？　And　felt　like　a　fucking　hour。　Meantime；　here　he　sat　on　the　john　with　a　dead　man　in　the　tub　beside　him；　one　who　looked　as　if　his　ass　had　been　blown　open　by　dynamite；　man；　talk　about　having　to　take　a　shit…
　　　　'Beep　the　horn　again；　at　least；'　Beaver　muttered。　'Honk　that　jeezly　thing；　let　me　know　you're　still　there。'　But　Jonesy　didn't。


7

Jonesy　couldn't　find　the　tape。
　　　　He'd　looked　everywhere　and　couldn't　find　it　anywhere。　He　knew　it　had　to　be　here；　but　it　wasn't　hanging　from　any　of　the　nails　and　it　wasn't　on　the　tool…littered　worktable。　It　wasn't　behind　the　paint…cans；　or　on　the　hook　beneath　the　old　painting　masks　that　hung　there　by　their　yellowing　elastics。　He　looked　under　the　table；　looked　in　the　boxes　stacked　against　the　far　wall；　then　in　the　partment　under　the　Arctic　Cat's　passenger　seat。　There　was　a　spare　headlight　in　there；　still　in　its　carton；　and　half　a　pack　of　ancient　Lucky　Strikes；　but　no　goddam　tape。　He　could　feel　the　minutes　ticking　away。　Once　he　was　pretty　sure　he　heard　the　Beav　calling　for　him；　but　he　didn't　want　to　go　back　without　the　tape　and　so　he　blew　the　old　horn　that　was　lying　on　the　floor；　pumping　its　cracked　black　rubber　horn　and　making　an　oogah…oogah　sound　that　Duddits　no　doubt　would　have　loved。　　　
　　　　The　more　he　looked　for　the　tape　and　didn't　find　it；　the　more　imperative　it　seemed。　There　was　a　hall　of　twine；　but　how　would　you　tie　down　a　toilet　seat　with　twine；　for　Christ's　sake？　And　there　was　Scotch　tape　in　one　of　the　kitchen　drawers；　he　was　almost　sure　of　it；　but　the　thing　in　the　toilet　had　sounded　pretty　strong；　like　a　good…sized　fish　or　something。　Scotch　tape　just　wasn't　good　enough。
　　　　Jonesy　stood　beside　the　Arctic　Cat；　looking　around　with　wide　eyes；　running　his　hands　through　his　hair　（he　hadn't　put　his　gloves　back　on　and　he'd　been　out　here　long　enough　to　nunib　his　fingers）；　breathing　out　big　white　puffs　of　vapor。
　　　　'Where　the　fuck？'　he　asked　aloud；　and　slammed　his　fist　down　on　the　table。　A　stack　of　little　boxes　filled　with　nails　and　screws　fell　over　when　he　did；　and　there　was　the　friction　tape　behind　them；　a　big　fat　roll　of　it。　He　must　have　looked　right　past　it　a　dozen　times。
　　　　He　grabbed　it；　stuffed　it　in　his　coat　pocket　…　he　had　remembered　to　put　that　on；　at　least；　although　he　hadn't　bothered　to　zip　it　up　…　and　turned　to　go。　And　that　was　when　Beaver　began　to　screaming。　His　calls　had　been　barely　there；　but　Jonesy　had　no　trouble　at　all　hearing　the　screams。　They　were　big；　lusty；　filled　with　pain。
　　　　Jonesy　sprinted　for　the　door。


8

Beaver's　Mom　had　always　said　the　toothpicks　would　kill　him；　but　she　had　never　imagined　anything　like　this。
　　　　Sitting　there　on　the　closed　toilet　seat；　Beaver　felt　in　the　bib　pocket　of　his　overalls　for　a　pick　to　chew　on；　but　there　weren't　any　…　they　were　scattered　all　over　the　floor。　Two　or　three　had　landed　clear　of　the　blood；　but　he'd　have　to　rise　up　off　the　toilet　seat　a　little　to　get　them　…　rise　up　and　lean　forward。
　　　　Beaver　debated。　Sit　tight；　Jonesy　had　said；　but　surely　the　thing　in　the　toilet　was　gone；　dive；　dive；　dive；　as　they　said　in　the　submarine　war　movies。　Even　if　it　wasn't；　he'd　only　be　lifting　his　ass　for　a　second　or　two。　If　the　thing　jumped；　Beaver　could　bring　his　weight　right　back　down　again；　maybe　break　its　scaly　little　neck　for　it　（always　assuming　it　had　one）。
　　　　He　looked　longingly　at　the　toothpicks；　Three　or　four　were　close　enough　so　he　could　just　reach　down　and　pick　them　up；　but　he　wasn't　going　to　put　bloody　toothpicks　in　his　mouth；　especially　considering　where　the　blood　had　e　from。　There　was　some