sk.dreamcatcher-第26章

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d　himself　to　a　fast　jog。
　　　　Go　look　in　the　chamber　pot。
　　　　Why　don't　we　just　knock　on　the　bathroom　door　and　ask　him　how　he　is？
　　　　Had　he　actually　heard　those　voices？　Yes；　they　were　gone　now；　but　he　had　heard　them；　just　as　he　had　heard　that　terrible　agonal　scream。　Pete？　Or　had　it　been　the　woman？　Pretty　Becky　Shue？
　　　　'Pete；'　he　said；　the　word　ing　out　in　a　puff　of　vapor。　'It　was　Pete。'　Not　entirely　sure；　even　now；　but　pretty　sure。
　　　　At　first　he　was　afraid　he　wouldn't　be　able　to　find　his　rhythm　again；　but　then；　while　he　was　still　worrying　about　it；　it　came　back　…　the　synchronicity　of　his　hurrying　breath　and　thudding　feet；　beautiful　in　its　simplicity。
　　　　Three　more　miles　to　Banbury　Cross；　he　thought。　Going　home。　Just　like　we　took　Duddits　home　that　day。
　　　　（if　you　tell　anybody　I　did　this　I'll　never　chum　with　you　guys　again）
　　　　Henry　returned　to　that　October　afternoon　as　to　a　deep　dream。　He　dropped　down　the　well　of　memory　so　far　and　so　fast　that　at　first　he　didn't　sense　the　cloud　rushing　toward　him；　the　cloud　that　was　not　words　or　thoughts　or　screams　but　only　its　redblack　self；　a　thing　with　places　to　go　and　things　to　do。


5

Beaver　steps　forward；　hesitates　for　a　moment；　then　drops　to　his　knees。　The　retard　doesn't　see　him；　he　is　still　wailing；　eyes　squeezed　shut　and　narrow　chest　heaving。　Both　the　Underoos　and　Beaver's　zipper…studded　old　motorcycle　jacket　are　ical；　but　none　of　the　other　boys　are　laughing。　Henry　only　wants　the　retard　to　stop　crying。　That　crying　is　killing　him。
　　　　Beaver　shuffles　forward　a　little　bit　on　his　knees；　then　takes　the　weeping　boy　into　his　arms。
　　　　'Baby's　boat's　a　silver　dream；　sailing　near　and　far　。　。　。'
　　　　Henry　has　never　heard　Beaver　sing　before；　except　maybe　along　with　the　radio　…　the　Clarendons　are　most　certainly　not　churchgoers　…　and　he　is　astounded　by　the　clear　tenor　sweetness　of　his　friend's　voice。　In　another　year　or　so　the　Beav's　voice　will　change　pletely　and　bee　unremarkable；　but　now；　in　the　weedy　vacant　lot　behind　the　empty　building；　it　pierces　them　all；　astounds　them。　The　retarded　boy　reacts　as　well；　stops　crying　and　looks　at　Beaver　with　wonder。
　　　　'It　sails　from　here　in　Baby's　room　and　to　the　nearest　star；　Sail；　Baby；　sail；　sail　on　home　to　me；　sail　the　seas　and　sail　the　stars；　sail　on　home　to　me　。　。　。'　　　　
　　　　The　last　note　drifts　on　the　air　and　for　a　moment　nothing　in　the　world　breathes　for　beauty。　Henry　feels　like　crying。　The　retarded　boy　looks　at　Beaver；　who　has　been　rocking　him　back　and　forth　in　rhythm　with　the　song。　On　his　teary　face　is　an　expression　of　blissful　astonishment。　He　has　forgotten　his　split　lip　and　bruised　cheek；　his　missing　clothes；　his　lost　lunchbox。　To　Beaver　he　says　ooo　or；　open　syllables　that　could　mean　almost　anything；　but　Henry　understands　them　perfectly　and　sees　Beaver　does；　too。
　　　　'I　can't　do　more；'　the　Beav　says。　He　realizes　his　arm　is　still　around　the　kid's　shirtless　shoulders　and　takes　it　away。
　　　　As　soon　as　he　does；　the　kid's　face　clouds　over；　not　with　fear　this　time；　or　with　the　petulance　of　one　balked　of　getting　his　way；　but　in　pure　sorrow。　Tears　fill　those　amazingly　green　eyes　of　his　and　spill　down　the　clean　tracks　on　his　dirty　cheeks。　He　takes　Beaver's　hand　and　puts　Beaver's　arm　back　over　his　shoulders。　'Ooo　or！　Ooo　or！'　he　says。　Beaver　looks　at　them；　panicked。　'That's　all　my　mother　ever　sang　me；　he　says。　'I　always　went　right　to　fuckin　sleep。'
　　　　Henry　and　Jonesy　exchange　a　look　and　burst　out　laughing。　Not　a　good　idea；　it'll　probably　scare　the　kid　and　he'll　start　that　terrible　bawling　again；　but　neither　of　them　can　help　it。　And　the　kid　doesn't　cry。　He　smiles　at　Henry　and　Jonesy　instead；　a　sunny　smile　that　displays　a　mouthful　of　white　crammed…together　teeth；　and　then　looks　back　at　Beaver。　He　continues　to　hold　Beaver's　arm　firmly　around　his　shoulders。
　　　　'Ooo　or！'　he　mands。
　　　　'Aw；　fuck；　sing　it　again；'　Pete　says。　'The　part　you　know。'　Beaver　ends　up　singing　it　three　more　times　before　the　kid　will　let　him　stop；　will　let　the　boys　work　him　into　his　pants　and　his　tom　shirt；　the　one　with　Richie　Grenadeau's　number　on　it。　Henry　has　never　forgotten　that　haunting　fragment　and　will　sometimes　recall　it　at　the　oddest　times：　after　losing　his　virginity　at　a　UNH　fraternity　party　with　'Smoke　on　the　Water'　pounding　through　the　speakers　downstairs；　after　opening　his　paper　to　the　obituary　page　and　seeing　Barry　Newman's　rather　charming　smile　above　his　multiple　chins；　feeding　his　father；　who　had　e　down　with　Alzheimer's　at　the　ferociously　unfair　age　of　fifty…three；　his　father　insisting　that　Henry　was　someone　named　Sam。　'A　real　man　pays　off　his　debts；　Sammy；'　his　father　had　said；　and　when　he　accepted　the　next　bite　of　cereal；　milk　ran　down　his　chin。　At　these　times　what　he　thinks　of　as　Beaver's　Lullaby　will　e　back　to　him；　and　he　will　feel　transiently　forted。　No　bounce；　no　play。
　　　　Finally　they've　got　the　kid　all　dressed　except　for　one　red　sneaker。　He's　trying　to　put　it　on　himself；　but　he's　got　it　pointing　backward。　He　is　one　fucked…up　young　American；　and　Henry　is　at　a　loss　to　know　how　the　three　big　boys　could　have　bullied　up　on　him。　Even　aside　from　the　crying；　which　was　like　no　crying　Henry　had　ever　heard　before；　why　would　you　want　to　be　so　mean？
　　　　'Let　me　fix　that；　man；'　Beaver　says。
　　　　'Fit　wha？'　the　kid　asks；　so　ically　perplexed　that　Henry；　Jonesy；　and　Pete　all　burst　out　laughing　again。　Henry　knows　you're　not　supposed　to　laugh　at　retards；　but　he　can't　help　it。　The　kid　just　has　a　naturally　funny　face；　like　a　cartoon　character。
　　　　Beaver　only　smiles。　'Your　sneaker；　man。'
　　　　'Fit　neek？'
　　　　'Yeah；　you　can't　put　it　on　that　way；　fuckin　imposseeblo；　se？or。'　Beaver　takes　the　sneaker　from　him　and　the　kid　watches　with　close　interest　as　the　Beav　slips　his　foot　into　it；　draws　the　laces　firmly　against　the　tongue；　and　then　ties　the　ends　in　a　bow。　When　he's　done；　the　kid　looks　at　the　bow　for　a　moment　longer；　then　at　Beaver。　Then　he　puts　his　arms　around　Beaver's　neck　and　plants　a　big　loud　smack　on　Beaver's　cheek。
　　　　'If　you　guys　tell　anybody　he　did　that…'　Beaver　begins；　but　he's　smiling；　clearly　pleased。　　　　
　　　　'Yeah；　yeah；　you'll　never　chum　with　us　again；　ya　fuckin　wank；'　Jonesy　says；　grinning。　He　has　held　onto　the　lunchbox　and　now　squats　in　front　of　the　kid；　holding　it　out。　'This　yours；　guy？'
　　　　The　kid　grins　with　the　delight　of　someone　encountering　an　old　friend　and　snatches　it。　'Ooby…Ooby…Doo；　where…are…oo？'　he　sings。　'We　gah…sum　urk　oo…do…now！'
　　　　'That's　right；'　Jonesy　agrees。　'Got　some　work　to　do　now。　Gotta　get　you　the　fuck　home　is　what　we　got　to　do。　Douglas　Cavell；　that's　your　name；　right？'
　　　　The　boy　is　holding　his　lunchbox　to　his　chest　in　both　of　his　dirty　hands。　Now　he　gives　it　a　loud　smack；　just　like　the　one　he　put　on　Beaver's　check。　'I　Duddits！'　he　cries。
　　　　'Good；'　Henry　says。　He　takes　one　of　the　boy's　hands；　Jonesy　takes　the　other；　and　they　help　him　to　his　feet。　Maple　Lane　is　only　three　blocks　away　and　they　can　be　there　in　ten　minutes；　always　assuming　that　Richie　and　his　friends　aren't　hanging　around　and　hoping　to　ambush　them。　'Let's　get　you　home；　Duddits。　Bet　your　Mom's　worried　about　you。'
　　　　But　first　Henry　sends　Pete　to　the　corner　of　the　building　to　look　up　the　driveway。　When　Pete　es　back　and　reports　the　coast　clear；　Henry　lets　them　go　that　far。　Once　they　are　on　the　sidewalk；　where　people　can　see　them；　they'll　be　safe。　Until　then；　he　will　take　no　chances。　He　sends　Pete　out　a　second　time；　tells　him　to　scout　all　the　way　to　the　street；　then　whistle　if　everything　is　cool。
　　　　'Dey　gone；'　Duddits　says。
　　　　'Maybe；'　Henry　says；　'but　I'll　feel　better　if　Pete　takes　a　look。'　Duddits　stands　serenely　among　them；　looking　at　the　pictures　on　his　lunchbox；　while　Pete　goes　out　to　look　around。　Henry　feels　okay　about　sending　him。　He　hasn't　exaggerated　Pete's　speed；　if　Richie　and　his　friends　try　to　jump　him；　Pete　will　turn　on　the　jets　and　leave　them　in　the　dust。
　　　　'You　like　this　show；　man？'　Beaver　says；　taking　the　lunchbox。　He　speaks　quietly。　Henry　watches　with　some　interest；　curious　to　see　if　the　retarded　boy　will　cry　for　his　lunchbox。　He　doesn't。
　　　　'Ey　Ooby…Doos！'　the　retarded　kid　says。　His　hair　is　golden；　curly。　Henry　still　can't　tell　what　age　he　is。
　　　　'I　know　they're　Scooby…Doos；'　the　Beav　says　patiently；　'but　they　never　change　their　clothes。　Pete's　right　about　that。　I　mean；　fuck　me　Freddy；　right？'
　　　　'Ite！'　He　holds　out　his　hands　for　the　lunchbox　and　Beaver　gives　it　back。　The　retarded　boy　hugs　it；　then　smiles　at　them。　It　is　a　beautiful　smile；　Henry　thinks；　smiling　himself。　It　makes　him　think　of　how　you　are　cold　when　you　have　been　swimming　in　the　ocean　for　awhile；　but　when　you　e　out；　you　wrap　a　towel　around　your　bony　shoulders　and　goosepimply　back　and　you're　warm　again。
　　　　Jonesy　is　also　smiling。　'Duddits；'　he　says；　'which　one　is　the　dog？'
　　　　The　retarded　boy　looks　at　him；　still　smiling；　but　puzzled　now；　too。
　　　　'The　dog；'　Henry　says。　'Which　one's　the　dog？'
　　　　Now　the　boy　looks　at　Henry；　his　puzzlement　deepening。
　　　　'Which　one's　Scooby；　Duddits？'　Beaver　asks；　and　Duddits's　face　clears。　He　points。
　　　　'Ooby！　Ooby…Ooby…Doo！　Eee　a　dog！'
　　　　They　all　burst　out　laughing；　Duddits　is　laughing　too；　and　then　Pete　whistles。　They　start　moving　and　have　gone　about　a　quarter　of　the　way　up　the　driveway　when　Jonesy　says；　'Wait！　Wait！'
　　　　He　runs　to　one　of　the　dirty　office　windows　and　peers　in；　cupping　his　hands　to　the　sides　of　his　face　to　cut　the　glare；　and　Henry　suddenly　remembers　why　they　came。　Tina　Jean　What's…Her…Face's　pussy。　All　that　seems　about　a　thousand　years　ago。
　　　　After　about　ten　seconds；　Jonesy　calls；　'Henry！　Beav！　e　here！　Leave　the　kid　there！'
　　　　Beaver　runs　to　Jonesy's　side。　Henry　turns　to　the　retarded　boy　and　says；　'Stand　right　there；　Duddits。　Right　there　with　your　lunchbox；　okay？'
　　　　Duddits　looks　up　at　him；　green　eyes　shining；　lunchbox　held　to　his　chest。　After　a　moment　he　nods；　and　Henry　runs　to　join　his　friends　at　the　window。　They　have　to　squeeze　together；　and　Beaver　grumbles　that　someone　is　steppin　on　his　fuckin　feet；　but　they　manage。　After　a　minute　or　so；　puzzled　by　their　failure　to　show　up　on　the　sidewalk；　Pete　joins　them；　poking　his　face　in　between　Henry's　and　Jonesy's　shoulders。　Here　are　four　boys　at　a　dirty　office　window；　three　with　their　hands　cupped　to　the　sides　of　their　faces　to　cut　the　glare；　and　a　fifth　boy　standing　behind　them　in　the　weedy　driveway；　holding　his　lunchbox　against　his　narrow　chest　and　looking　up　at　the　white　sky；　where　the　sun　is　trying　to　break　through。　Beyond　the　dirty　glass　（where　they　will　leave　clean　crescents　to　mark　the　places　where　their　foreheads　rested）　is　an　empty　room。　Scattered　across　the　dusty　floor　are　a　number　of　deflated　white　tadpoles　that　Henry　recognizes　as　jizzbags。　On　one　wall；　the　one　directly　across　from　the　window；　is　a　bulletin　board。　Tacked　to　it　is　a　map　of　northern　New　England　and　a　Polaroid　photograph　of　a　woman　holding　her　skirt　up。　You　can't　see　her　pussy；　though；　just　some　white　panties。　And　she's　no　high…school　girl。　She's　old。　She　must　be　at　least　thirty。
　　　　'Holy　God；'　Pete　says　at　last；　giving　Jonesy　a　disgusted　look。　'We　came　all　the　way　down　here　for　that？'
　　　　For　a　moment　Jonesy　looks　defensive；　then　grins　and　jerks　his　thumb　back　over　his　shoulder。　'No；'　he　says。　'We　came　for　him。'


6

Henry　was　pulled　from　recall　by　an　amazing　and　totally