The Creek

  Amy Bukvic, wearing a skimpy tank top and tight jeans, had slid her hand into Caleb’s back pocket in a proprietary way. Her hair was plastered with about a pound of hairspray, so that when it hit the humidity, it barely drooped.

  Benji yelped, “Caleb and Amy?”

  Amy’s tank top bounced suggestively with each step she took.

  “Unbelievable,” Oren said, shaking his head, his mouth open in disbelief.

  Mac stared at Amy’s chest through slit eyes.

  Caleb shut the door of Amy’s house and surveyed the quiet block. Penny held her breath as he stared at the Carsons’, his piercing dark eyes searching it, and for a brief moment Penny thought maybe he’d seen them.

  “Get down,” she whispered, panicked.

  They flattened themselves on the carpet. A few seconds later they heard the Trans Am roar up the street.

  “No way he could see us,” Zachary whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Mac said.

  “Whose car is it?” Benji asked. “It’s never parked in the Devlins’ driveway.”

  “I know whose it is,” Mac said. “That kid who’s always dealing under the bridge. Doug Coles.”

  Penny didn’t say anything. She just sat there, reeling from the revelation, trying to imagine what it was like to be Amy.

  The one who kissed the devil.

  The kids were ready with their bikes the next morning when the red Trans Am appeared outside the Bukvics’ house. Amy got in, and the Trans Am roared out of the driveway in a flurry of screeching tires. The kids set off after it on their bikes, pedaling furiously to keep up with the car. They followed from a safe distance, but it was hard work, and when the car screeched to a stop at the small shopping area less than a mile away, they were relieved. They stood there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, gasping in the late-morning sun, the blacktop hot beneath their feet and the scent of tar starting to stick in their noses.

  Caleb stepped out of the car, all long hard legs. They saw Amy beckon him toward her open window, reach up to wind her arms around his neck, and say in a high false voice, “Don’t keep me waiting long.”

  The kids recoiled.

  “I’m gonna barf,” Oren said, clutching his stomach.” ‘Don’t keep me waiting,’” he mimicked.

  “Where’s he going?” Penny asked.

  “Probably the liquor store,” Mac predicted.

  Benji darted off behind Caleb. “I’m gonna see.”

  They watched as Caleb strode with long lanky steps, not to the liquor store, but to the hardware store. Benji slipped into the store behind him.

  Penny turned to Mac. “The hardware store?”

  “Maybe he’s buying a gun,” Oren suggested.

  “You can’t buy a gun at a hardware store,” Mac said in a disparaging tone.

  “You can buy shells,” Oren said.

  Mac scoffed. “You can buy shot, not shells,” he said, ever the expert.

  Penny, who thought they were both talking out their ears, said, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Penny, don’t!” Zachary cautioned her, but she was already gone, moving fast toward the red Trans Am, sneaking up behind it.

  Amy was sitting in the front seat, the passengerside vanity mirror flipped down, elaborately applying brown mascara. Penny watched, fascinated. Where had she learned how to do this? Amy expertly applied a thick coat to her top eyelashes, and then looked up, dabbing the mascara on the lower eyelashes.

  “Penny!” Zachary called in a loud whisper, and Penny whirled around to see the boys gesturing furiously at her. She took a last glance at Amy and then took off toward the boys. Benji was standing in their midst, talking excitedly about Caleb.

  “He bought a shovel, and some rope, and a huge ax. Look!” Benji pointed.

  Sure enough, Caleb was walking out of the hardware store with a coil of rope looped around his shoulder, a long shovel swung over it, and an ax with a shiny new blade in his other hand.

  “What’s the ax for?” Penny asked.

  “To chop us up,” Oren said.

  “And the shovel?”

  “To bury our dead bodies!” Zachary said.

  Not to mention Mr. Cat and Buster and all those other pets, Penny thought darkly.

  They watched as Caleb popped open the trunk and tossed the stuff in. Then he returned to the driver’s seat, revved up the motor, and spun the car out of the parking lot, leaving the kids in its dust.

  “I wish we could just kill him first,” Mac said in a low fierce voice.

  “Yeah,” Oren echoed.

  They looked at one another, realization dawning on their faces, possibility in the air.

  “Whoa,” Zachary exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to slow them all down. “You can’t just walk up and kill him. Look what happened to me! And, and—Teddy!”

  “Yeah, not to mention that Jeffy kid,” Penny pointed out.

  “Accidents happen all the time,” Oren said quietly, thoughtfully, the ghost of a smile on his face.

  Mac snapped his fingers. “The Trans Am.”

  “What about the Trans Am?” Benji asked.

  “We cut the brakes on the Trans Am,” Mac said, like it was so simple, like it was something he did every day. “That’d be justice, same way he killed his own sister.”

  “I don’t know,” Benji said.

  Mac ignored him, his face starting to flush with excitement. “We cut the brakes when he’s parked across the street visiting Amy, and then he, well …”

  “Crashes,” Oren finished in a cool voice.

  “Yeah,” Mac said. “It’s cake.” He looked at each of them. “Well?”

  Penny nodded. It wasn’t a bad plan. And best of all, it didn’t require any direct contact with Caleb. “Okay. But who’s gonna do it?”

  “You guys are serious?” Zachary asked.

  “Two people should go,” Mac said. “The other three will be lookouts.”

  “Let’s do Rock, Paper, Scissors,” Benji said. “It’s the only fair way.”

  Mac and Benji put their fists up.

  “On three,” Oren said. “One, two, three!”

  Mac’s hand was a rock, Benji’s a pair of scissors. Mac tapped Benji’s hand with his fist. “Rock smashes scissors.”

  Benji gulped and then smiled bravely. “Looks like I ‘m in.”

  “You and Penny next,” Mac said, staring at Zachary.

  “But …,” Zachary began.

  “You gonna wimp out?” Mac asked in a low voice. “Penny’s not scared.”

  Zachary bit his lip worriedly and put his fist up. So did Penny.

  “One, two, three!”

  Zachary smiled, relief shining on his face. “Rock—”

  “Smashes scissors,” Penny finished grimly. She hated Rock, Paper, Scissors. She always lost. “Okay, Oren, let’s do it.”

  Oren had a hard look on his face, his fist clenched as if he was looking forward to a good fight and Caleb was just the guy.

  “One, two, three!”

  Penny and Oren flung their hands out in front of them.

  Oren looked up at Penny, a frustrated expression on his face. “Scissors cut paper.”

  Penny looked down at her fingers, splayed flat like paper.

  “Yeah,” she said, “I know.”

  The next morning, the kids waited in the Carsons’ garage in nervous anticipation. Penny had rifled through her dad’s tools, looking for shears or clippers or anything thick enough to cut through hose. Her mother had taken the baby and gone to the grocery store.

  Penny felt awful. She’d been so worried and full of dread that she’d barely eaten her dinner the night before and hadn’t touched her breakfast—she knew that if she put anything in her stomach, it was just going to come right back up. Penny looked longingly at her new bike sitting in the corner of the garage. The Fourth of July was tomorrow, and she still had to decorate the bike for the competition.

  Teddy’s bike, done up in an astronaut theme, was almos
t finished, thanks to their dad, who had seemingly poured all his guilt and anxiety over Teddy’s accident into helping Teddy with the decorations. In fact, the accident had made Penny’s parents pretty hysterical lately. The kids were forbidden to go anywhere without telling them. No more just stepping out of the house and playing.

  “Do you think Caleb killed Buster? Like Mrs. Bukvic keeps saying?” Penny had asked her mother the previous night.

  “Maybe,” her mother had said, her eyes worried.

  Penny almost told her mother then and there about Mr. Cat, but some instinct had made her hold her tongue. What could she tell her, after all? What proof did she have? Mr. Cat took off all the time. Her mother would just chalk it up to anxiety, and not let her play outside at all.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Mac asked in a frustrated voice. Penny thought that Mac wouldn’t be in such a hurry if he was the one who had to go across the street.

  “Maybe he won’t come today,” Penny said, half to herself.

  “He’ll come,” Mac said.

  She heard screeching tires, and Oren hissed, “He’s here! Get ready, you guys.”

  The Trans Am was sitting in the Bukvics’ driveway, like a red tomato ripening in the sun. Caleb climbed out and sauntered through the front door.

  “Time to go,” Benji said. “Got the tools?”

  Penny nodded shakily, clutching the heavy clippers.

  “You okay?” Benji asked, taking in her white face.

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t worry,” Zachary assured Penny and Benji. “I’ll whistle if I see him come back out.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  They took off across the street, dropping low when they reached the Bukvics’ driveway and scuttling up to the Trans Am like crabs. They lay on their backs and inched their way across the hot blacktop under the car, Penny’s heart beating a million miles a minute. Heat radiated off the engine in gasoline-tinged waves, and Benji was sweating like a fiend.

  “Now what do we do?” Penny asked, breathing hard.

  “Hand me the clippers,” he ordered, like a surgeon at an operating table.

  She slapped them into his outstretched hand. Benji stared up at the mess of tubes and wires above him.

  “Hurry!” she said, fear making her voice shake.

  Benji held the clippers to a piece of black tubing and then paused. He turned to Penny, his face strained. “I don’t know which one to cut.”

  “What do you mean? I thought you asked your dad.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “I did, but I don’t see anything like what he was talking about.”

  Penny took a deep breath and said, “Cut them all!”

  “But—”

  “Just do it!” she whispered fiercely.

  He nodded shortly and cut through a thick black tube.

  Blue windshield-washer fluid rained down on them. It got into Penny’s mouth and soaked her shirt. She spit it out.

  “Jeez!” Benji cursed, wiping his eyes.

  Penny looked past Benji, feeling faint.

  A pair of boots was standing there.

  Benji caught the look in Penny’s eyes and froze.

  She pinched her eyes shut for a moment, hoping the boots would be gone when she opened them.

  They weren’t.

  Then she heard Zachary’s whistle, but it was too late—the windshield-washer fluid was already rushing out from under the car, pooling on the blacktop, flowing around Caleb’s heavy black motorcycle boots. Penny watched in horrified fascination as the fluid ran down the driveway in a weirdly blue stream, shimmering iridescently.

  Caleb said, “What the—?”

  “Go!” Benji mouthed in a low urgent voice, shoving Penny in the direction away from Caleb. She rolled onto her belly, the windshield-washer fluid soaking her straight through, and crawled out from under the car, Benji right behind her.

  Benji was just about out from under the car when Caleb’s hand grabbed his foot.

  “What are you doing to my car?” Caleb glowered at Benji, but Benji just kicked hard, hitting Caleb in the face. Caleb roared in shock, and then Benji was off and he and Penny were running up the street, as fast as their legs could carry them.

  “Hey!” Caleb shouted.

  They rounded the curve on Lark Hill Road and were gone.

  CHAPTER 11

  Penny and the boys were somewhat calmer by the time they scrambled into Mr. Schuyler’s pristine yellow pickup truck that evening, just as the sun was setting.

  Mr. Schuyler kept the truck in perfect condition for just such occasions. Usually a trip to Wallaby Farms required some sort of chore in return, and as tomorrow was the Fourth of July block party, he had a list ready for them. In return for free ice cream, the kids were going to have to help out.

  “Now, you critters hold on tight,” he warned. “I don’t want any personal injury lawyers sniffing after me!”

  Mr. Schuyler, outfitted in worn blue overalls and a John Deere cap, drove his truck at a sedate pace. But when he reached the Farm Road, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, Mr. Schuyler hit the gas and the truck went flying down the dirt road, hitting every bump and pothole, causing the kids in the back to bounce around, taking their breath away.

  “This is better than the roller coaster!” Zachary shouted exuberantly, clinging to the side.

  In spite of all the excitement, Penny was silent. But then, she had a lot on her mind.

  After Penny’s near-death experience with Caleb that morning, her mother had returned home, corralled her into the minivan with Baby Sam, and driven them to the mall. Her mother was on a mission to get Penny a dress for the Fourth of July block party. She had dragged Penny to the girls’ section of a large department store and sat outside the curtained dressing room, bouncing Sam on her knee, while Penny tried on a daisy-patterned cotton sundress.

  “This is a stupid dress,” Penny had said sulkily from behind the curtain. She couldn’t believe her mom was making her do this.

  “Come out and let me see it on you.”

  Penny had walked out reluctantly, slouching her shoulders, her arms crossed defensively in front of her flat chest.

  “You look lovely, honey,” her mom had said encouragingly. “It’s the perfect sort of dress for a summer party.”

  “I look stupid.”

  Her mother had looked at her and murmured, in a soft voice, “I’ll bet Amy will be wearing a dress.”

  Penny had stared at herself in the mirror. The simple sundress made her look even younger than she was. She imagined what Amy would wear. Nothing like this, she knew instinctively. Why was she even trying?

  “The boys are gonna make fun of me.”

  “No, they won’t. Come on, it would make your dad so happy if his little girl wore a dress one day of her life.” Her mother had stood behind her and smoothed her hair back, squeezing her shoulder. “You look so pretty. Don’t you feel pretty in this dress?”

  Penny had looked at her mother, standing behind her in the mirror, and known that she could never hope to be as beautiful as her mother, whose heavy fall of hair was shiny as a buttercup. Penny knew that even with this dress, even with a million dresses, she would never come close. She would never be the one boys stopped to admire.

  And then there was no more time to think about the shopping trip, because they were at Wallaby Farms. The kids fell over one another to get in line at the old-fashioned marble counter, where stout-looking women spooned out obscenely huge scoops of ice cream. After they’d all gotten their cones, Mr. Schuyler piled them back into the truck and drove them to a big empty field not far down the road. They took their cones and sat on the grass, watching the stars start to come out.

  Mr. Schuyler looked around appraisingly. “This was my farm. This piece of land was my family’s farm for over one hundred years,” he said.

  “We know,” the kids chimed in.

  “And do you know who owns it now?” he asked.

  “The gover
nment!” Penny shouted, in unison with everyone else. Mr. Schuyler gave the same speech every time.

  “You got it, boys! The United States Federal Government,” he said, emphasizing the word “federal.” “Just you remember that. Don’t ever trust no one, not even the government. The only person you can count on being true to you is yourself. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Schuyler.”

  A cicada chirped mournfully.

  “Can you trust policemen?” asked Penny, remembering Officer Cox.

  “Nope.”

  “But if you can’t trust policemen, who can you trust?” Teddy asked, a smear of strawberry ice cream on his thin cheek.

  “Yeah,” Benji said. “And what about firemen?”

  “What about the FBI?” Mac said.

  “And the Secret Service?” Oren added.

  Mr. Schuyler sighed heavily. “Nope, you can’t trust any of them. Nothing but thieves and liars, every one. They’ll steal your farm, sell your tractors, slaughter your livestock.”

  “But what if something bad happens?” Penny whispered tremulously, the shadow of Caleb looming large over them all, a specter in the dark, a harsh whisper on the wind. “Who do we tell if something really bad happens?”

  A frog croaked nearby. Zachary seemed to curl into himself, his chocolate cone forgotten.

  “Well, I guess you can always tell me, but I’m not gonna be here forever.” Mr. Schuyler scratched his scraggly gray beard. “Nope. One day you’ll learn: the only person you can really count on is yourself.”

  On the way home, Mr. Schuyler managed to hit every single pothole on the Farm Road. Penny was having a hard time keeping her ice cream down.

  “Your dad coming to the block party tomorrow?” Penny asked Oren.

  Oren stared ahead into the darkness, his dark hair framing his face rakishly, so that he looked like a pirate. “I don’t know. My mom told him to stay away,” he said.

  “Do you see him much?” she asked, clinging to the side of the truck, forcing herself to keep talking to take her mind off her nausea. If Mr. Schuyler kept driving like this, she was going to barf all over the bed of the truck.

  “He’s always busy with his stupid girlfriend. I can’t believe he won’t come home with all the stuff that’s going on with Caleb! I thought he’d come home! How can he leave us by ourselves? How can he?” he asked, his voice breaking.