Red and Blue Chronicles Box Set

Chapter 4-2

Nick nodded slowly. His silence was even creepier than when he’d done it for the kids. Josh and Terry, who are terrified of Mrs. Lund, ran off with the Sanchez girls. Nick stayed behind.

Lene was dressed up as Marie Curie. I know because she showed me a picture of the scientist in the Lunds’ encyclopedia. She cut loose of Mrs. Lund’s firm grip and skipped up our front steps.

She sat by me. “Hello, Derek.”

“Hi, Lene.”

“Are you the Count of Monte Cristo?”

“No.”

“Don Juan?”

“No.”

“Our baby is sleeping. The cat ate one of her eyes, but the doctor said she would be fine without it.”

“Lene? Why is your t—tongue blue?”

She plucked a lollipop out of her apron. “I was sucking on this. You wanna taste it?”

“No.”

“How come you aren’t trick or treating?”

“Don’t wa—want to.”

Then like some kind of slow, deep dream, Nick’s voice dropped down to me. “Come on, Lene.” He leaned over the railing. “Mom wants you to take your bath.” He wasn’t wearing his mask or hat anymore.

Lene pouted. “You know, Nico, baths weren’t common practice in the early 1900’s and I—”

“Is that so?” Nick laughed. “Come on, Ms. Curie. Make like it’s 1987 and get in that bath before Mom yells at me.”

Even Lene knew not to protest. She got to her feet, and Nick picked her up, carrying her as though she was a doll, right over the railing. “Come on, bright eyes, and wash your mouth. It looks like a Smurf had an accident on your tongue.”

Looking at the street, I got nervous. There weren’t that many kids out anymore, Nick and I were basically alone. I wanted to go back inside, but that meant having to say good night at least, and I didn’t know if I could manage to do that. My mouth was too dry. My tongue, too heavy. I sat on the first step, trying to keep my breathing in check, with my hands on my lap, staring at the empty sidewalk.

I could see Nick out of the corner of my eye. He leaned over the front railing, watching the street. “You want some of this left-over candy?” he finally said. “Nothing but toffee and raisins, but I think I saw a few gum sticks in there.”

I dared to look over my shoulder. “No—no, thank you.”

“Sure?” He was handing me the plastic pumpkin over the railing. He looked nine feet tall. The streetlamp shone in his eyes. “Come on, O’Reilly.” His mouth glistened like water under the moon. “Have a box of dried raisins at least.”

I wanted to, but that meant having to reach out and take the pumpkin out of his hand. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but he still stood there, with his arm stretched over the railing, and I had to get myself together. “All right,” I said, standing up. “Tha—anks.” I took whatever my fingers landed on and stuffed that in my pocket without even looking at it.

Nick set the pumpkin down, shut the front door, and then stood against the wall with his hands in his pockets. I wanted to sit down again, but instead, I stayed by the railing, staring at the ground.

Nick glanced around. He took a quick peek into the front window of their apartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one. I watched the orange fire on the tip of the cigarette widen every time he sucked on it. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through the nose. He didn’t cough once.

He didn’t say anything else. Just smoked.

Then of course, stupid JF had to show up. “Hey, Nico,” he shot from the sidewalk.

Nick doesn’t let people call him that. Only his family are allowed that privilege. But JF is clueless. He’s always trying to impress Nick, on account of JF being a schmuck and all. “Hangin’ out, huh, Nico.”

Nick tossed his chin up. “Nice costume, by the way.”

JF was dressed up as the wrestler Macho Man, but his wig looked like something Madonna would wear. I caught the sarcasm in Nick’s voice, but JF obviously didn’t. “Thanks, man. Your brother’s still being punished, huh?”

Nick squashed the end of the cigarette on his heel, then walked over to the street drain and dropped it in there. “That’s right.” There was tension in the air.

It made my nerve endings sizzle.

“Too bad though,” JF said. “He was only trying to defend you. I mean, Sebastian was just looking for a—”

“What’s that?”

I swallowed hard, sitting tight.

“Well, I mean—” JF’s voice was smaller now, “—Sebastian was sort of putting you down and Boone didn’t like that one bit so.”

“Putting me down? What did he say? Word for word, please.”

JF was going to have to repeat those words. He was going to have to call Nick Lund a retard to his face. JF looked up to me with panic in his eyes. “Well, I don’t remember everything he said, just that you had some problems or something. Anyway, Boone sure gave him a lesson, right?”

Nick wasn’t buying it. “Problems? What kind of problems?” He took a step towards JF and folded his arms over his broad chest. “What the hell did he say exactly? Come on, spit it out.”

JF stared at the ground. “He called you a retard,” he whispered.

We could barely hear him.

“A what now?” Nick’s voice was like an ice storm.

“A retard. He said you couldn’t even read a license plate.”

“Oh yeah?”

My heart had begun racing. I didn’t know if it was from dread, or satisfaction.

“A retard, huh?” Nick repeated, his eyes blazing. “He said that? That little s**t? He said I was retard. Huh. Okay. All right. Okay.”

JF had managed to slip past Nick and had come up the stairs to our balcony. “Derek, he’s flippin’ out,” he said under a breath.

Oh yeah, Nick was flipping out all right.

“A retard? I’m gonna f*****g break him in half and have him eating out of his asshole for the rest of his life.”

I could kind of picture what that might look like, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I’m gonna go pay that little pimple squirt a visit. No fair Boone had to take the wrap.” Nick looked up to JF. “You go get Josh and Terry. Tell ‘em I’ll be at Dunkin Donuts.” He climbed up the stairs and looked over at me. “O’Reilly, if you have some extra toilet paper you wouldn’t mind parting with, I’d like it, please.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“But don’t get in trouble on my account,” he said softly, before walking into his home.

He was worth all the trouble I could ever get into.

JF stuck his hands into his pockets. His wig was on crooked and his face looked like curd cheese. “You could have said something. You were there, too.”

I pointed to the street. “Better do-do what he said be—before he comes back out.”

“What do you think he’s gonna do? I mean, he won’t really break him in half, right?”

“I don’t know, b—but I’m getting him s—some toilet paper.”

Inside, Aunt Frannie was on the phone. “Honey.” She folded her hand over the speaker. “Be quiet, your mom’s sleeping, but don’t worry, she had an egg sandwich before she went to bed. See? It’s not so bad.”

Aunt Frannie thinks mom’s blues are hungry all the time.

I slipped the silk scarf off my head and washed my face in the bathroom sink. I put Dad’s shirt in the hamper and pulled my thick black sweater over my head. It hadn’t snowed yet, but it was still cold out there. I tiptoed to the hallway closet and gently opened it.

“What are you looking for, Red?” Aunt Frannie stood behind me, eating a candy bar.

The answer jumped out of my mouth before I could even think about it. “A flash light.”

“What for? There’s plenty of light. Are they calling for a thunderstorm?”

Aunt Frannie could wrestle a grizzly bear, but she doesn’t like thunderstorms.

“M—maybe.” I said, avoiding her wide green eyes.

“Oh, well in that case, I’m going to get the candles ready. Where does your mom keep ‘em, hon?”

We have two white candles in the kitchen. Both melted down to the middle. They’re in the second drawer, under the wash cloths. “In the ba—basement, in Dad’s corner,” I lied. I thought I could slip the toilet paper out to Nick while she went looking for them.

She threw her white robe on and took the flash light out of my hand. “Just in case.” She headed down the narrow stairs to the cement basement.

She’s lucky. I have to sleep down there.

As soon as she was out of sight, I yanked the bulging bag of toilet paper rolls out of the closet and sprung for the front door.

Nick was on the sidewalk. He carried a baseball bat and a bag full of what looked like groceries. I handed him the rolls. He slid the bag under his arm and winked at me. “Thanks.” He took off on his skateboard. Nick rides that board like he’s standing on a magic carpet. Even when carrying two grocery bags and a baseball bat.

I went to the corner of Wellington. I watched Nick pop his board into his empty hand and walk into the Dunkin Donuts with his ammo. The other guys were already there.

I dragged my feet back to our apartment building because I didn’t have the courage to follow them. I sat on the balcony again. My chest tightened and I jumped to my feet, going back inside.

It was a school night and I suspected Aunt Frannie wouldn’t let me leave now that it was dark. I decided I would tell her I was going to bed, then try to sneak out through the back door. It would be tricky, but if she was watching TV in the living room, I could probably manage to escape for half an hour before she came down to check up on me. I had a plan. It felt really good to have a plan.

I never have a plan.

“Aunt Frannie?”

She was still on the phone. “What is it, hon? You know, you should be in bed, it’s almost ten.”

“Did you find the candles?”

“No, Derek. I found two cans of pork beans though. Good night.”

“Good night.”

On my way down to the basement, I made sure to land loudly on every step, then I crept back up, and tiptoed to the kitchen. I passed my parents’ bedroom, but the door was shut.

It’s always shut.

I pulled on the back door, making sure not to make a sound, and snuck out.

The yard seemed bigger. The sky, darker. I was the only one awake in the whole universe, and all I had in my pockets were two quarters and some of Nick’s raisins.

I pulled the sleeves of the sweater over my hands and headed for Wellington Street.

The guys had already left the restaurant, but I knew where they were. I decided to take the alleys to Gordon Street. This way, no one would spot me and report my whereabouts to Aunt Frannie in the morning. There was a thin coat of frost on the ground and my breath streamed in and out of my lips like I was boiling pasta in my mouth.

I walked fast, with my head down, trying to ignore the barking dogs as I passed the yards. I hadn’t brought my medicine and I was beginning to feel a little short of breath, so I slowed down.

Then I heard voices.

They were coming from the street. Gordon Street. The voices were uneven, some were yelling angrily, some were hissing low, some were high pitched and threatening. All of them were coming from Sebastian’s front yard. I stopped.