Finders Keepers, page 7
Mrs. McNulty glanced up at her rearview mirror; saw the blue car. "Who would follow us?"
"I don't know."
"You're being paranoid," the woman told her son.
"This cop who spoke to the class one time, he said if you think you're being followed you should make three right turns."
"Why?"
"To see if the guy follows you."
"I think you're being silly," she said.
Maybe, James Richard was thinking. He was also afraid. Maybe it WAS the same blue car that chased the bus.
"Please, Mom."
"All right."
Sheila McNulty slowed at the next intersection, turned right.
So did the blue car.
"Oh, man," said James Richard. "Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man," he repeated, his voice gaining in intensity with each syllable.
"Stop it, now," his mother urged him. "This doesn't mean anything."
"Turn right again," James Richard told her.
"There's no reason for anyone to be following us."
"Turn right," James Richard repeated.
Mrs. McNulty signaled, slowed, turned right.
The blue car turned with her.
"Oh, man," said James Richard.
"Now you have me worried," Mrs. McNulty told her son, working hard to keep her voice calm. "You said three turns?" James Richard nodded, staring at the reflection of the blue car in the sideview mirror. "Let's be sure," she said.
She turned right at the next intersection.
The blue car drove straight through and disappeared.
"See," said Mrs. McNulty. "Now don't you feel foolish?"
James Richard smiled in return, but no, he didn't feel foolish at all.
***
After miniature golf, Sheila McNulty and her son went to a program at the science museum. Next was dinner and a movie, like a date, James Richard thought. During the movie, James Richard held his mother's hand and leaned against her shoulder and it was an action picture!
It was approaching midnight when they arrived home. Neither of them noticed the blue car parked on a side street half a block down with a clear view of their house.
Back to TOC
CHAPTER EIGHT
A major science exam first thing Monday morning and James Richard figured there ought to be a law against it and by the way they groaned when Miss Hoedeman passed out the four-page test papers, he knew his classmates agreed.
"People, people, people," Miss Hoedeman called out like a carnival barker. "You have forty-five questions and fifty-five minutes to answer them. I suggest you start now."
After a quick glance at the clock above the door, James Richard bent to his task. He had studied most of Sunday afternoon and evening and he was ready. Ignoring the age-old advice of reading all the questions first, he started at the beginning. Page one, question one. He worked quickly and efficiently, shutting out everything around him. He saw nothing except the test. He heard nothing except the scratching sounds his pencil point made on the paper. When he had finished, he looked up at the clock. To his amazement, he still had over twenty minutes left.
"Go back, do it again," his experience told him. He reviewed his answers, changed nothing. He was sure of them all.
***
Miss Hoedeman had lobbied for a new classroom every year since she started teaching at St. Rose. It wasn't a bad classroom as classrooms go. It was clean and roomy and had the prerequisite desks and chairs and blackboards. It also had an easterly exposure; for two and a half hours each day the sun pouring through its massive windows was so bright that shades needed to be drawn, giving the room a gloomy, closed-in feeling that Hoedeman hated.
She was at the shades, gripping the cord that would lower them, when she happened to look out the window. On the street, about a block down from the school, a man exited from the driver's side of a blue Ford and stretched his arms toward heaven. A moment later a second man left the car from the passenger side and did the same. The two of them spoke to each other across the roof of the car. As they spoke, a third man poked his head out of a rear window and said something. The first two men shrugged, switched places, and re-entered the car. There they sat.
Miss Hoedeman's mind flipped pages in a handbook she was required to read at the beginning of every school year, stopping at the section that dealt with suspicious persons on and near school property.
"I think this qualifies," she told herself.
She was still wondering about the men in the blue car when James Richard left his seat and walked to the front of the classroom. He set his test papers on her desk. She looked up abruptly at the clock. She hadn't expected anyone to finish much less this early.
Miss Hoedeman left the blinds and returned to her desk. She examined James Richard's papers and after assuring herself that he had answered all the questions, she began to correct them.
***
Lacey Mauer was working furiously, yet when the bell sounded, she was only on question forty-two.
"That's it, pencils down" Miss Hoedeman announced. "Hand in your papers as you leave."
Lacey did as she was told, reluctantly. Five more minutes and she would have answered them all, she was sure. She wondered how James Richard had done. She thought she saw him leave his seat midway through the period, probably to ask a question. He was waiting for her at the door.
"Mr. McNulty," Miss Hoedeman called to him just as Lacey reached his side. The seventh graders paused and turned toward her. Miss Hoedeman was holding up James Richard's test paper for him to see. On the top of the page, in a circle, she had drawn a large, bright red A+.
"Welcome back," she said.
The smile on James Richard's face was truly brilliant. Looking at it made Miss Hoedeman smile, too. She was still smiling long after he had left her classroom. To help kids excel and to see their faces when they did was the reason Miss Hoedeman became a teacher in the first place; it's what made all her hard work worthwhile.
She was still smiling when she reached for the telephone on the wall next to the door and called administration to warn them about the three men in the blue car.
***
Second period Spanish was taught in a classroom on the first floor, directly beneath the room where they had just taken their science test. Lacey Mauer swung around in her seat to eye James Richard, who sat behind her.
"Did you answer all the questions?"
James Richard nodded.
"Hoedeman already corrected your paper?"
James Richard nodded.
"And she gave you an A-plus!"
James Richard nodded again, adding a self-satisfied grin.
"If she grades on a curve, I'm going to kill you."
James Richard tried to act frightened, but couldn't quite pull it off. His smile was too broad. He felt just like he had the other day while playing basketball. He was in a zone. He didn't even notice the sun streaming through the windows, causing most of his classmates to squint. But his teacher did.
"Señor McNulty," Miss Spanier called to him. "Favor de cerrar las cortinas."
James Richard left his seat and went to the windows to draw the shades. He looked out just as a police car pulled to a stop directly behind a blue car that was parked about a block down from the school. He watched intently as the police officer left his squad car and cautiously approached the driver's door. Just as he reached it, the blue car leapt away from the curb, its rear wheels smoking. The car raced for two blocks and made a hard right, two wheels came off the ground when it did. The police officer retreated quickly to his vehicle. A moment later, it too was screeching away from the curb with siren wailing and lights flashing.
"What's going on?" James Richard asked aloud. Who was in the blue car? Was this the same blue car that followed the bus Thursday night? Or the one that followed him and his mother from the apple orchard Saturday afternoon? Or was this a different blue car altogether? Did this have something to with the money he had found?
The questions came fast and furious but James Richard couldn't answer any of them. He stood watching out the window wondering what to do until Miss Spanier called him back to his seat.
He had stopped smiling.
***
Worlie didn't notice as the needle of the speedometer edged past seventy. He was too busy watching the street in front of him. Wind rushed through his open window, whipping his hair. Houses on the residential street blurred until they were only colors passing. Next to him, Truax shouted, "Turn left, turn left!"
Worlie turned. The sound of squealing tires drowned out the radio. The small sedan gained quickly on a mini-van driving the lawful speed. Worlie cut hard left around him. Another van was approaching fast in the oncoming lane. Worlie's heart literally stopped beating. He spun the wheel hard right and pushed fiercely on the gas pedal, just avoiding a head-on collision.
Sickler giggled from the back seat as the Ford rocked back and forth, its suspension not built for this kind of driving.
Truax didn't seem to notice how close to disaster they had come. Instead, he was too busy staring out the back window. "Turn right!" he shouted. Worlie did as he was told. Fear caused him to tap the brakes as he cranked the steering wheel. He drove nearly a half mile at high speed before Truax said, "Right again," then, "keep going straight."
Worlie drove straight. His hands were sweating, but he kept them firmly on the steering wheel.
"Take another right." Truax's voice was dropping in velocity. His breathing was returning to normal. Three blocks later he said, "Take a left. Slow down. You want to get in an accident?"
Worlie slowed to forty miles per hour. He checked his mirror for the police. Nothing. He listened for sirens. He heard at least two, but they were a long way off and moving in the opposite direction.
"Slower," Truax told him.
Worlie reduced his speed to thirty.
"Take another left."
Worlie did, properly this time, signaling well in advance.
Sickler was pressing the back of the seat. He was holding his gun. Worlie saw it out of the corner of his eye.
"What are you doing with that?" he wanted to know.
"What do you think?" Sickler replied.
"You were going to shoot him," Worlie said. "You were going to shoot that cop."
"If I had to," Sickler replied matter-of-factly.
"Oh my God," Worlie said.
"Oh my God is right," Truax added. "You think killing a cop is going to get us any closer to the money, Sickler? Use your head."
Sickler was tired of using his head. He wanted to use his gun. On Truax. It was only the promise of big a payoff that held him back. He settled in his seat. First the money, then Truax and Worlie, he told himself silently. Out loud he asked, "Where are we going?"
"There," Truax said, pointing at the parking lot of a shopping mall. "Pull in."
Worlie did what he was told.
"What are we going to do?" he asked.
"Ditch the Ford," Truax said. "By now every cop in the city will be looking for it."
From beneath the front seat, Truax produced a rubber wedge and a "slim jim," a thin strip of metal about eighteen inches long with a hook on the end.
"Any particular color you guys like?" Truax asked as Worlie drove slowly down a long row of parked cars.
Worlie swallowed hard. Now he could add Grand Theft Auto to his crimes.
***
James Richard was sitting in his usual spot in the public library, at the table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the door, his hair still slightly damp from the shower he took following basketball practice. He was listening to rock music, the earbuds of his iPod firmly in his ears, while he studied his math text and wrote equations in a spiral notebook. The music worked as white noise, allowing him to concentrate on his homework. Without it, James Richard would have been distracted by every voice; he would be looking up every time a chair leg scraped against the floor. Unfortunately, it also isolated him from his surroundings. As a result, James Richard didn't see the young man with short brown hair enter the library. He didn't hear when he asked the librarian what time it closed.
Back to TOC
CHAPTER NINE
Lacey Mauer didn't even wait until James Richard sat on the bus seat next to her. "Did anyone claim the money?" she asked much too loudly for James Richard's peace of mind.
James Richard said, "No," added, "three days to go."
Lacey squealed her delight, which brought both her and James Richard to the attention of Muchlinski and Landeen, the upperclassmen she had fought the previous year.
"Hey, it's the rich kid," said Muchlinski.
"He's riding the school bus," Landeen noticed. "Hey, rich kid, where's your limousine?"
"Is it the chauffeur's day off?" Muchlinski asked.
On and on it went, Muchlinski and Landeen tormenting James Richard over the five million dollars he had won in the lottery. Like just about everyone else, they had the details wrong. James Richard tried to correct them, but they weren't listening. When Lacey attempted to intervene, the older boys shouted her down.
"This is none of your business, sister," Muchlinski scolded.
"Yeah, sister," added Landeen.
Sister? Lacey thought.
Finally, as the school bus approached St. Rose, James Richard said, "If you don't leave me alone, I'll have my girlfriend beat you up."
My girlfriend.
When Lacey heard the words, her head whipped around so fast to face James Richard that she nearly suffered whiplash.
My girlfriend.
Muchlinski and Landeen, remembering their earlier experience with Lacey, hesitated, then poured it on even heavier than before.
"Need a girl to fight your battles?" asked Muchlinski.
"Sissy boy, sissy boy," Landeen chanted.
James Richard merely smiled. "What do you think, Sally?" he asked.
Sally. He called me Sally. He didn't forget.
"I took 'em once, I can do it again," Lacey replied confidently.
When she left the bus, she handed her backpack to James Richard and went into an American Free Fighting Stance - her favorite karate stance because it gave her greater speed and mobility and because it was just as good for self-defense as it was for offense. Muchlinski and Landeen took one look at her and stepped several feet backward.
"What are you…nuts?" asked Muchlinski.
"Are you crazy?" asked Landeen.
"Can't you take a joke?" said Muchlinski.
"A joke," echoed his friend.
Lacey moved cautiously toward them, keeping her hands high.
"Hey, hey, hey," Muchlinski repeated, moving the same distance backward.
"Hey, hey," said Landeen, joining him.
By now Lacey and the two bullies were surrounded by a crowd of students at least three deep. Some of the kids took up a chant: "Fight, fight." A graceful escape was now impossible. Muchlinski and Landeen were in trouble and they knew it.
"Good morning, students!" a deep voice boomed. Principal Riley was moving among them. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
In reply, the crowd began to disperse. Lacey abandoned her stance. Muchlinski and Landeen moved close to the tall African-American, seeking his protection.
"Did you see that?" asked Muchlinski.
"She's crazy," said Landeen.
"She tried to pick a fight with us," said Muchlinski.
"She's nuts," said Landeen.
"For no reason at all."
"She's as goofy as a bedbug."
Riley looked down on Landeen, an odd expression on his face. Goofy as a bedbug? What the heck does that mean? he wondered.
"McNulty put her up to it," Muchlinski accused.
"Yeah," echoed Landeen. "McNulty paid her."
"She's a paid assassin," said Muchlinski.
"A hit man, woman, person, whatever," agreed Landeen.
Riley turned to face the pretty thirteen-year-old girl. She shrugged and smiled. Behind her James Richard glanced up and down and over and around, taking interest in everything except what was going on directly before him, pretending that he wasn't involved. Riley returned his gaze to Muchlinski and Landeen, noting that they were a foot taller and many pounds heavier than Lacey.
"Did she hurt you?" he asked the boys.
"No, of course not, whaddaya think, we're wimps?" they protested, realizing that their manhood was being questioned.
"You come see me if she does," he told them.
"We can take care of ourselves, we're not afraid of her, she's not so tough," they replied.
Riley used his thumb to point the two boys in the right direction. They quickly hustled to the school building, giving Lacey a wide berth. Riley looked down at the girl.
"Stop picking on the older boys, Mauer," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Riley," she replied sweetly.
Riley glanced at James Richard who was still pretending to be somewhere else. "McNulty," he said.
For the first time, James Richard looked directly at his principal. Only Riley couldn't think of an appropriate warning to give the boy. So he merely shook his head at him and frowned meaningfully before returning to his office.
Lacey was also at a loss for words as she gazed up at James Richard.
He called me his girlfriend.
***
The car door opened without warning, making both Truax and Sickler leap in their seats. Sickler's head hit the roof of the car.
"Don't do that!" Truax warned Worlie.
"Do what?" Worlie asked.
"You jerk," said Sickler, rubbing the top of his head.
"What?"
"Never mind," Truax told him. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah," Worlie replied. "He's on bus number fifteen."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"That's what he said about Fast Eddie," Sickler reminded everyone.
"Will you stop with that," Worlie demanded. "I said I was sorry."
"You sure are," said Sickler.
Worlie's anger was coming dangerously close to overcoming his fear of Sickler. He was contemplating going over the back seat for his partner's throat when Truax intervened.
"I don't know."
"You're being paranoid," the woman told her son.
"This cop who spoke to the class one time, he said if you think you're being followed you should make three right turns."
"Why?"
"To see if the guy follows you."
"I think you're being silly," she said.
Maybe, James Richard was thinking. He was also afraid. Maybe it WAS the same blue car that chased the bus.
"Please, Mom."
"All right."
Sheila McNulty slowed at the next intersection, turned right.
So did the blue car.
"Oh, man," said James Richard. "Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man," he repeated, his voice gaining in intensity with each syllable.
"Stop it, now," his mother urged him. "This doesn't mean anything."
"Turn right again," James Richard told her.
"There's no reason for anyone to be following us."
"Turn right," James Richard repeated.
Mrs. McNulty signaled, slowed, turned right.
The blue car turned with her.
"Oh, man," said James Richard.
"Now you have me worried," Mrs. McNulty told her son, working hard to keep her voice calm. "You said three turns?" James Richard nodded, staring at the reflection of the blue car in the sideview mirror. "Let's be sure," she said.
She turned right at the next intersection.
The blue car drove straight through and disappeared.
"See," said Mrs. McNulty. "Now don't you feel foolish?"
James Richard smiled in return, but no, he didn't feel foolish at all.
***
After miniature golf, Sheila McNulty and her son went to a program at the science museum. Next was dinner and a movie, like a date, James Richard thought. During the movie, James Richard held his mother's hand and leaned against her shoulder and it was an action picture!
It was approaching midnight when they arrived home. Neither of them noticed the blue car parked on a side street half a block down with a clear view of their house.
Back to TOC
CHAPTER EIGHT
A major science exam first thing Monday morning and James Richard figured there ought to be a law against it and by the way they groaned when Miss Hoedeman passed out the four-page test papers, he knew his classmates agreed.
"People, people, people," Miss Hoedeman called out like a carnival barker. "You have forty-five questions and fifty-five minutes to answer them. I suggest you start now."
After a quick glance at the clock above the door, James Richard bent to his task. He had studied most of Sunday afternoon and evening and he was ready. Ignoring the age-old advice of reading all the questions first, he started at the beginning. Page one, question one. He worked quickly and efficiently, shutting out everything around him. He saw nothing except the test. He heard nothing except the scratching sounds his pencil point made on the paper. When he had finished, he looked up at the clock. To his amazement, he still had over twenty minutes left.
"Go back, do it again," his experience told him. He reviewed his answers, changed nothing. He was sure of them all.
***
Miss Hoedeman had lobbied for a new classroom every year since she started teaching at St. Rose. It wasn't a bad classroom as classrooms go. It was clean and roomy and had the prerequisite desks and chairs and blackboards. It also had an easterly exposure; for two and a half hours each day the sun pouring through its massive windows was so bright that shades needed to be drawn, giving the room a gloomy, closed-in feeling that Hoedeman hated.
She was at the shades, gripping the cord that would lower them, when she happened to look out the window. On the street, about a block down from the school, a man exited from the driver's side of a blue Ford and stretched his arms toward heaven. A moment later a second man left the car from the passenger side and did the same. The two of them spoke to each other across the roof of the car. As they spoke, a third man poked his head out of a rear window and said something. The first two men shrugged, switched places, and re-entered the car. There they sat.
Miss Hoedeman's mind flipped pages in a handbook she was required to read at the beginning of every school year, stopping at the section that dealt with suspicious persons on and near school property.
"I think this qualifies," she told herself.
She was still wondering about the men in the blue car when James Richard left his seat and walked to the front of the classroom. He set his test papers on her desk. She looked up abruptly at the clock. She hadn't expected anyone to finish much less this early.
Miss Hoedeman left the blinds and returned to her desk. She examined James Richard's papers and after assuring herself that he had answered all the questions, she began to correct them.
***
Lacey Mauer was working furiously, yet when the bell sounded, she was only on question forty-two.
"That's it, pencils down" Miss Hoedeman announced. "Hand in your papers as you leave."
Lacey did as she was told, reluctantly. Five more minutes and she would have answered them all, she was sure. She wondered how James Richard had done. She thought she saw him leave his seat midway through the period, probably to ask a question. He was waiting for her at the door.
"Mr. McNulty," Miss Hoedeman called to him just as Lacey reached his side. The seventh graders paused and turned toward her. Miss Hoedeman was holding up James Richard's test paper for him to see. On the top of the page, in a circle, she had drawn a large, bright red A+.
"Welcome back," she said.
The smile on James Richard's face was truly brilliant. Looking at it made Miss Hoedeman smile, too. She was still smiling long after he had left her classroom. To help kids excel and to see their faces when they did was the reason Miss Hoedeman became a teacher in the first place; it's what made all her hard work worthwhile.
She was still smiling when she reached for the telephone on the wall next to the door and called administration to warn them about the three men in the blue car.
***
Second period Spanish was taught in a classroom on the first floor, directly beneath the room where they had just taken their science test. Lacey Mauer swung around in her seat to eye James Richard, who sat behind her.
"Did you answer all the questions?"
James Richard nodded.
"Hoedeman already corrected your paper?"
James Richard nodded.
"And she gave you an A-plus!"
James Richard nodded again, adding a self-satisfied grin.
"If she grades on a curve, I'm going to kill you."
James Richard tried to act frightened, but couldn't quite pull it off. His smile was too broad. He felt just like he had the other day while playing basketball. He was in a zone. He didn't even notice the sun streaming through the windows, causing most of his classmates to squint. But his teacher did.
"Señor McNulty," Miss Spanier called to him. "Favor de cerrar las cortinas."
James Richard left his seat and went to the windows to draw the shades. He looked out just as a police car pulled to a stop directly behind a blue car that was parked about a block down from the school. He watched intently as the police officer left his squad car and cautiously approached the driver's door. Just as he reached it, the blue car leapt away from the curb, its rear wheels smoking. The car raced for two blocks and made a hard right, two wheels came off the ground when it did. The police officer retreated quickly to his vehicle. A moment later, it too was screeching away from the curb with siren wailing and lights flashing.
"What's going on?" James Richard asked aloud. Who was in the blue car? Was this the same blue car that followed the bus Thursday night? Or the one that followed him and his mother from the apple orchard Saturday afternoon? Or was this a different blue car altogether? Did this have something to with the money he had found?
The questions came fast and furious but James Richard couldn't answer any of them. He stood watching out the window wondering what to do until Miss Spanier called him back to his seat.
He had stopped smiling.
***
Worlie didn't notice as the needle of the speedometer edged past seventy. He was too busy watching the street in front of him. Wind rushed through his open window, whipping his hair. Houses on the residential street blurred until they were only colors passing. Next to him, Truax shouted, "Turn left, turn left!"
Worlie turned. The sound of squealing tires drowned out the radio. The small sedan gained quickly on a mini-van driving the lawful speed. Worlie cut hard left around him. Another van was approaching fast in the oncoming lane. Worlie's heart literally stopped beating. He spun the wheel hard right and pushed fiercely on the gas pedal, just avoiding a head-on collision.
Sickler giggled from the back seat as the Ford rocked back and forth, its suspension not built for this kind of driving.
Truax didn't seem to notice how close to disaster they had come. Instead, he was too busy staring out the back window. "Turn right!" he shouted. Worlie did as he was told. Fear caused him to tap the brakes as he cranked the steering wheel. He drove nearly a half mile at high speed before Truax said, "Right again," then, "keep going straight."
Worlie drove straight. His hands were sweating, but he kept them firmly on the steering wheel.
"Take another right." Truax's voice was dropping in velocity. His breathing was returning to normal. Three blocks later he said, "Take a left. Slow down. You want to get in an accident?"
Worlie slowed to forty miles per hour. He checked his mirror for the police. Nothing. He listened for sirens. He heard at least two, but they were a long way off and moving in the opposite direction.
"Slower," Truax told him.
Worlie reduced his speed to thirty.
"Take another left."
Worlie did, properly this time, signaling well in advance.
Sickler was pressing the back of the seat. He was holding his gun. Worlie saw it out of the corner of his eye.
"What are you doing with that?" he wanted to know.
"What do you think?" Sickler replied.
"You were going to shoot him," Worlie said. "You were going to shoot that cop."
"If I had to," Sickler replied matter-of-factly.
"Oh my God," Worlie said.
"Oh my God is right," Truax added. "You think killing a cop is going to get us any closer to the money, Sickler? Use your head."
Sickler was tired of using his head. He wanted to use his gun. On Truax. It was only the promise of big a payoff that held him back. He settled in his seat. First the money, then Truax and Worlie, he told himself silently. Out loud he asked, "Where are we going?"
"There," Truax said, pointing at the parking lot of a shopping mall. "Pull in."
Worlie did what he was told.
"What are we going to do?" he asked.
"Ditch the Ford," Truax said. "By now every cop in the city will be looking for it."
From beneath the front seat, Truax produced a rubber wedge and a "slim jim," a thin strip of metal about eighteen inches long with a hook on the end.
"Any particular color you guys like?" Truax asked as Worlie drove slowly down a long row of parked cars.
Worlie swallowed hard. Now he could add Grand Theft Auto to his crimes.
***
James Richard was sitting in his usual spot in the public library, at the table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the door, his hair still slightly damp from the shower he took following basketball practice. He was listening to rock music, the earbuds of his iPod firmly in his ears, while he studied his math text and wrote equations in a spiral notebook. The music worked as white noise, allowing him to concentrate on his homework. Without it, James Richard would have been distracted by every voice; he would be looking up every time a chair leg scraped against the floor. Unfortunately, it also isolated him from his surroundings. As a result, James Richard didn't see the young man with short brown hair enter the library. He didn't hear when he asked the librarian what time it closed.
Back to TOC
CHAPTER NINE
Lacey Mauer didn't even wait until James Richard sat on the bus seat next to her. "Did anyone claim the money?" she asked much too loudly for James Richard's peace of mind.
James Richard said, "No," added, "three days to go."
Lacey squealed her delight, which brought both her and James Richard to the attention of Muchlinski and Landeen, the upperclassmen she had fought the previous year.
"Hey, it's the rich kid," said Muchlinski.
"He's riding the school bus," Landeen noticed. "Hey, rich kid, where's your limousine?"
"Is it the chauffeur's day off?" Muchlinski asked.
On and on it went, Muchlinski and Landeen tormenting James Richard over the five million dollars he had won in the lottery. Like just about everyone else, they had the details wrong. James Richard tried to correct them, but they weren't listening. When Lacey attempted to intervene, the older boys shouted her down.
"This is none of your business, sister," Muchlinski scolded.
"Yeah, sister," added Landeen.
Sister? Lacey thought.
Finally, as the school bus approached St. Rose, James Richard said, "If you don't leave me alone, I'll have my girlfriend beat you up."
My girlfriend.
When Lacey heard the words, her head whipped around so fast to face James Richard that she nearly suffered whiplash.
My girlfriend.
Muchlinski and Landeen, remembering their earlier experience with Lacey, hesitated, then poured it on even heavier than before.
"Need a girl to fight your battles?" asked Muchlinski.
"Sissy boy, sissy boy," Landeen chanted.
James Richard merely smiled. "What do you think, Sally?" he asked.
Sally. He called me Sally. He didn't forget.
"I took 'em once, I can do it again," Lacey replied confidently.
When she left the bus, she handed her backpack to James Richard and went into an American Free Fighting Stance - her favorite karate stance because it gave her greater speed and mobility and because it was just as good for self-defense as it was for offense. Muchlinski and Landeen took one look at her and stepped several feet backward.
"What are you…nuts?" asked Muchlinski.
"Are you crazy?" asked Landeen.
"Can't you take a joke?" said Muchlinski.
"A joke," echoed his friend.
Lacey moved cautiously toward them, keeping her hands high.
"Hey, hey, hey," Muchlinski repeated, moving the same distance backward.
"Hey, hey," said Landeen, joining him.
By now Lacey and the two bullies were surrounded by a crowd of students at least three deep. Some of the kids took up a chant: "Fight, fight." A graceful escape was now impossible. Muchlinski and Landeen were in trouble and they knew it.
"Good morning, students!" a deep voice boomed. Principal Riley was moving among them. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
In reply, the crowd began to disperse. Lacey abandoned her stance. Muchlinski and Landeen moved close to the tall African-American, seeking his protection.
"Did you see that?" asked Muchlinski.
"She's crazy," said Landeen.
"She tried to pick a fight with us," said Muchlinski.
"She's nuts," said Landeen.
"For no reason at all."
"She's as goofy as a bedbug."
Riley looked down on Landeen, an odd expression on his face. Goofy as a bedbug? What the heck does that mean? he wondered.
"McNulty put her up to it," Muchlinski accused.
"Yeah," echoed Landeen. "McNulty paid her."
"She's a paid assassin," said Muchlinski.
"A hit man, woman, person, whatever," agreed Landeen.
Riley turned to face the pretty thirteen-year-old girl. She shrugged and smiled. Behind her James Richard glanced up and down and over and around, taking interest in everything except what was going on directly before him, pretending that he wasn't involved. Riley returned his gaze to Muchlinski and Landeen, noting that they were a foot taller and many pounds heavier than Lacey.
"Did she hurt you?" he asked the boys.
"No, of course not, whaddaya think, we're wimps?" they protested, realizing that their manhood was being questioned.
"You come see me if she does," he told them.
"We can take care of ourselves, we're not afraid of her, she's not so tough," they replied.
Riley used his thumb to point the two boys in the right direction. They quickly hustled to the school building, giving Lacey a wide berth. Riley looked down at the girl.
"Stop picking on the older boys, Mauer," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Riley," she replied sweetly.
Riley glanced at James Richard who was still pretending to be somewhere else. "McNulty," he said.
For the first time, James Richard looked directly at his principal. Only Riley couldn't think of an appropriate warning to give the boy. So he merely shook his head at him and frowned meaningfully before returning to his office.
Lacey was also at a loss for words as she gazed up at James Richard.
He called me his girlfriend.
***
The car door opened without warning, making both Truax and Sickler leap in their seats. Sickler's head hit the roof of the car.
"Don't do that!" Truax warned Worlie.
"Do what?" Worlie asked.
"You jerk," said Sickler, rubbing the top of his head.
"What?"
"Never mind," Truax told him. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah," Worlie replied. "He's on bus number fifteen."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"That's what he said about Fast Eddie," Sickler reminded everyone.
"Will you stop with that," Worlie demanded. "I said I was sorry."
"You sure are," said Sickler.
Worlie's anger was coming dangerously close to overcoming his fear of Sickler. He was contemplating going over the back seat for his partner's throat when Truax intervened.
