claim, mail, rain, rail, nail, lima, ra, car, mini, lira
MOM WAS SURPRISED to find me waiting up for her on the couch when she got home.
‘Ambrose, how come you’re not in bed? Is everything OK?’
‘He came back.’
‘Who came back?’
‘Cosmo. Mr and Mrs E’s jailbird son.’
I’d been listening to my mom’s CDs on our boombox for almost two hours, dying to tell her the news. ‘I was up there having dinner, they invited me, and he just showed up on the doorstep,’ I told her, ‘and asked me who the hell I was. And then Mrs E screamed and then she hugged him and then she started hitting him—’
‘Whoa, slow down. Are you alright?’
Was I alright? Sometimes Mom could totally miss the point.
‘I’m fine. He just stood there and let his mom hit him, then Mr E came out and boy, did he give Cosmo the stink-eye. Then he told me I had to go home, so I didn’t even get to see what team got booted off The Amazing Race. And I came down here, but I could hear them shouting and Mrs E crying, for, like, a long time.’
My mom sank into a chair and took off her shoes.
‘And he totally looks the part of an ex-con, too. Like a thug. Big muscles, tattoo, buzz cut – they probably gave him that haircut in prison. And I still don’t know why he was in jail, but I’ll find out—’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Yeah, next time I’m over—’
‘You’re not going over there anymore. Not without me. Do you understand?’
And suddenly I realized my humongous error. I was talking to Mom like she would get how cool this all was, forgetting that I was talking to Mom.
‘Mom, come on—’
‘I’m serious, Ambrose. We have no idea what that young man did, and I don’t want you anywhere near him.’
‘But, Mom, Mrs E’s a great cook. And the finale of The Amazing Race is next week.’
‘My decision is final.’
She walked into her room and closed her door. And I knew there was no point even trying to argue. Because ‘my decision is final’ was really code for ‘I couldn’t keep your dad safe. And I won’t make the same mistake with you.’
But, of course, telling me to stay away from Cosmo was like telling a little kid not to lick a metal fence post in the middle of winter. Suddenly all you can think about is putting your tongue against the metal post. What will happen? What will it taste like? Will your whole tongue really come off when you pull? It becomes an obsession, and I know this from personal experience.
Besides, staying away from Cosmo required effort. The guy lived right upstairs.
Four days later, my mom had just left for work and I was settling in at our kitchen table to do my math when I heard a car pull up – a very noisy car that didn’t sound at all like the Economopouloses’ Ford Escort. I dropped my pencil and hurried outside to see a beat-up red sports car in the driveway. Cosmo climbed out of the driver’s seat, wearing faded jeans and a leather jacket.
‘I think you need a new muffler,’ I told him, trying to help.
Cosmo just glared at me and walked into the garage. I was about to head back inside when he appeared again, carrying a bucket and a sponge. He found the hose at the side of the house and started filling the bucket with water.
‘Gonna wash the car?’
‘Good guess, Einstein.’
‘What kind of car is it?’
‘’91 Camaro. Friend of mine let me keep it in his garage while I was away.’
‘You mean, while you were in jail.’
This earned me another glare. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.
‘That’s bad for you,’ I said.
He didn’t comment, but just started washing the car. I stood and watched. I don’t mind watching people go about their business, but I’ve found that sometimes they mind me watching them.
‘You’re giving me the creeps,’ Cosmo said, after a while.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?’
‘No.’
He looked at me like I was an alien. ‘Those are very interesting pants.’
‘Thanks.’ I was wearing my favorite purple cords. ‘I could help you,’ I added.
‘Don’t need it, thanks.’ He took a long drag off his cigarette.
‘Have you ever stopped to think about the names they give cars? Like Neon. Who wants to drive a Neon? Or Aspire. Aspire to what – owning a better car?’
I laughed at my own joke, but he didn’t crack a smile. He just took off his leather jacket to rinse the soap off his car, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. I could see his tattoo move as he worked.
‘What did you do?’ I asked.
He glanced up at me, squinting in the sun.
‘Why did they throw you in the slammer?’
Cosmo raised an eyebrow. ‘The slammer?’
I nodded. ‘Should I be worried for my personal safety?’
He studied me for a second. Then he lowered his voice: ‘You really want to know?’
I nodded again, even though an icy finger of fear was working its way up my back.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening. ‘I got sent away for killing a boy just about your age. A boy who asked too many stupid questions. One day, I just snapped.’
Then, with one swift motion, he grabbed something and pointed it at me, and I thought I was going to poo in my pants. I ducked, but it was too late. I was hit—
With water. From the hose. Within seconds I was soaked.
After I’d changed out of my wet clothes and hidden them under my bed so Mom wouldn’t ask questions, I went straight back to my math homework. But it was hard to concentrate. I was pretty sure he’d been pulling my leg about murdering the kid. But not so sure that I didn’t barricade our door with a chair first. Just to be on the safe side.