Sitting in the car beside Kelan on a hauntingly empty Pine Street, Susan had so desperately wanted to find signs of life—any sign—and now she had it.
Three teenagers dragging sleds—four if you counted Arnie Kovacs twice—strode down the other side of the street. Simon Kovacs struggled to keep up, trailing them by a dozen paces.
God, not them, Susan thought. Not now.
“It’s all right,” she said, giving her son’s hand an assuring squeeze.
A lie. She was downright terrified of Arnie Kovacs. He was what, all of thirteen, but she could never believe it. The kid was a brute. An animal. And after what he did to Kelan, what she wouldn’t give to see him locked in a freezer.
She watched the group from the corner of her eye as they marched along. They slowed as they reached the Anderson’s, and Arnie gave the idling car a second look as he passed. Simon checked to see if his brother saw him before sharing a small wave.
Susan held her breath. They couldn’t pass fast enough for her liking. But really, why was she so worried? It’s not like they’d try anything with her at Kelan’s side. Right?
What if Arnie trashes your windshield, like he did to Mr. Nolan’s car? What then?
Randy Pillsworth walked ahead of Tony Armano. Susan could feel them staring. Simon waved again, and this time she nodded to him.
Oh, Simon, why are you with them? You’re such a cutie-pie.
Kelan glanced over his shoulder as the group passed the car. His eyes grew wide. “Mom!”
A snowball struck Susan in the back of the head. It exploded around her, splattering the dash and the inside of the windshield. The pain dizzied her. She reached behind her head and felt a small lump on her skull. Something hard was stuck in her hair. She plucked it free.
A nickel? You son of a bitch.
Susan unbuckled herself and got out. She dropped the coin.
Arnie Kovacs stood across the road at the edge of the curb. The rest of the group stood on the sidewalk, each of them agape.
“Besh nickel I ever fushin’ shpent,” Arnie said. He sounded hoarse. His right eye was black and blue. A purple lump sat above it. His left brow twitched.
“I guess it’s not enough for you to hurt my son,” Susan snapped. “What’s wrong? All the squirrels hiding?”
She glared past Arnie. “And what’s wrong with you, mister?” Tony Armano stood stock still, flush with embarrassment. His mother Gil taught kindergarten at Holy Trinity School and came in at least once a month to the flower shop. Susan was about to lash out with the old standby, What would your mother think?, but she didn’t have to. It was clear the boy was thinking the same thing.
“And you?” Susan said, glaring at Randy Pillsworth. Randy shifted where he stood. He lowered his head.
Simon Kovacs popped a gum bubble that stuck to his lower lip. He sucked it back in. He was staring at his friend in the car.
“I should call the police,” Susan said. She stared at each of them in turn.
“Call them,” Arnie said, and it came out Caw dem, partly because of his lisp, mostly because of the wad of gum he had crammed into his mouth. He stepped forward. “Make the call, bish.”
Susan stood firm, although instinct told her different. It was probably best to stand her ground, but on the other hand, the best might be waiting for her down the street behind a locked door.
“Bet ya wish your old man was shtill around,” Arnie said. “Guesh you can thank that little faggot of yours for taking hish head off.”
“How dare you,” Susan said. She turned to Kelan. From the hurt on his face, she knew he had heard every word—had probably heard it more times than he could count. After the accident, the how had spread like wildfire.
“What’s the matter?” Arnie chuckled. He turned directly to Kelan. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Everyone knows, kid. How your old man losht his head over an itsy bitsy shpider.”
“That’s enough!” Susan shouted.
Arnie took another step. His brow twitched again. “I hear it was a closed cashket. Couldn’t slide his brains back in his shkull.”
“Shut up!” Susan cried. “You just … shut up!”
Arnie grimaced. Spittle dribbled from his lips. He gave his head a good shake, like a weary driver trying to snap himself awake before he lost control.
“He’s doing that weird shit again,” Tony Armano said.
Susan thought Tony meant Arnie. But no. Tony was staring at the car. She turned.
Kelan had slipped back in his seat. His eyes were shut tight, his fingers pressed to his temples. He was trying so hard to do his thing—whatever that thing was—that Susan feared he might suffer some sort of seizure. She rushed to the window and reached in, hoping to break his concentration before anyone got hurt.
“Fushin’ freak,” Arnie said.
Susan pulled back from the car and whirled around. Arnie had moved closer still.
“I hear he killed hish old man on purposh,” Arnie said. “Freak wanted him dead.”
“Please,” Susan said. “Please stop.” Arnie took another step, and if he took another, she might scream. After Earl Eckert had manhandled her, she doubted she could handle this hulking man-boy on her own.
Arnie started to speak, but strangely, his words fell silent. He shook his head. He staggered back a step, as if someone had pushed him. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, almost drugged.
“Leave us alone,” Susan said fearfully. “Don’t come any closer.”
But Arnie did, and something snapped inside Susan’s brain. She could not describe the sensation, but saying it was like a taut rubber band of terror would have been close. Why had she gotten out of the car? Why hadn’t she just driven home? Why wasn’t Kelan thinking Arnie away?
“Come on, Arnie,” Tony said. “Leave her alone.”
Arnie whipped around, and Tony stepped back.
Arnie turned to Susan. He gave her bruises a long, deliberate look. “Like I was shtarting to shay … looks like the faggot beat up hish own mother.”
“That’s enough!” Susan went for him, but Arnie darted clear. She lunged again, only to cry out in a scream, one so shrill that Simon covered his ears.
Susan fell to her knees, clutching her chest. The pain was crippling. She raised a hand toward Arnie, and then her arm went limp as she crashed to the cold pavement. She gasped for air. Her breast screamed, the flesh around her wound burning.
“What did you do?” Tony said to Arnie. His eyes were almost popping from their sockets.
Arnie backed off, his face spilling with worry. He tripped over the curb and fell into the snowbank onto his rear. “Get the fush outta here,” he said frantically, scrambling backwards over the bank.
Tony looked as if he wanted to help Susan. But when Arnie grabbed his sled and started to bolt, he panicked and took flight. Randy took up the rear, Simon scrambling after him.
Susan lay on her side in agony. She heard the sound of the passenger door open, and before she could warn him to stay put, Kelan darted around the front of the car. He knelt beside her. She managed to sit up and fell into his arms.
“I’m all right, baby. Mommy’s all right.”
Kelan set his head on her shoulder, and Susan held him close. For the first time for as long as she could remember, his embrace felt right.
She heard the gang running, their voices fading like ghosts in a dream. The sky was gray and growing darker, her world slipping below the surface of sanity. She clutched her child tighter for fear it her last chance. She would not show him her tears, and for that, saw not the hatred buried within his eyes … not the poise of his thumb and forefinger … not the crush of that fleeing demon-head, the head of Arnie Kovacs.