Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [9]
“Aw, he’s just a piney.”
“I don’t care if he’s a Martian, you’re a lot bigger.”
“We wasn’t doin’ nothin’.”
“Yeah? That’s not what I saw. Wanna try a little of that nothin’ on me? Huh? How about it?”
“Hey, no, we was just—”
Toliver shoved him again and turned to his blond-haired buddy Joey. “How about you? You up for a little nothin’ ?”
Joey raised his hands and backed away. “Hey, no, man. We didn’t mean nothin’.”
Toliver turned to Elvin. “These guys hassle you again, you come to me.” He pointed to Teddy and Joey each in turn. “And you two … I’ll be watching.”
With that, Toliver continued his stroll as if nothing had happened, leaving Elvin staring after him with absolute, total hero worship in his dark eyes, while Teddy and Joey slunk away in the other direction.
Amazing, Jack thought.
He wondered if Toliver cared a bit about Elvin. Maybe he’d simply seen the situation as an opportunity to put on a performance.
On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t completely a performance. Maybe he’d been sincerely ticked at seeing a little guy being pushed around by the likes of Teddy and Joey. Whatever the case, he’d made the most of it.
“You okay, Elvin?”
He nodded but said nothing. He rarely said anything.
Jack felt a sudden shove from behind. “Hey, you botherin’ Elvin?”
He turned to see one of the older piney kids, looking ready to fight. He’d met him before. Levi Coffin, tall and lanky with unruly brown hair. His gangly arms stuck out of his too-small shirt. He had one blue eye and one brown and both flashed anger.
Elvin waved his hands and pointed back down at the retreating bullies.
“Oh, them,” Levi said, his tone dripping contempt. “One of these days somethin’ real bad’s gonna befall them two.”
Like many pineys, his voice had an almost Southern twang. Maybe that was why some people called them hillbillies without hills.
He looked at Jack. “Sorry. Got my signals crossed.”
He looked at Elvin, then at Toliver’s receding figure.
“Don’t you go thinkin’ he’s your buddy and all.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You know what Saree says about him.”
Jack looked and saw the white-haired girl from the piney lunch table standing a few feet away, staring at him with an odd expression. He realized with a start that she had pink irises. White hair … milk-white skin … what was that called…?
Albino … she was an albino.
Elvin and Levi joined her and the three of them walked off. Before they rounded the bend, the albino girl—Saree—stared at him again over her shoulder. What was so interesting about him? And Elvin and Levi … Jack had a weird feeling those two had had a conversation without Elvin saying a word.
But they weren’t important. Toliver was.
Being the gridiron hero wasn’t enough, apparently. Not only was he the guy who could do no wrong on or off the athletic field, but he’d set himself up as godfather of the whole damn school as well.
And clearly he liked the role. He ate up the adoration like candy.
But if people could see what lay beneath that Mr. Wonderful façade, it would be a way different story.
The problem was, how could Jack expose the real Carson Toliver without involving Weezy … or himself?
4
“I’m heading for the Connells’.”
His father looked up from where he sat sipping a beer and listening to Mr. Bainbridge rant about Beirut. His fellow Korean War vet had come over in a rage and hadn’t stopped talking since he stepped through the door.
“Homework done?”
“Every bit.”
“Don’t be late.”
USED was closed on Mondays, so Jack had had the afternoon to himself. The first thing he’d done when he got home was call Weezy to see how she was, but Mrs. Connell said she wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come to the phone. He tried a few more times through the afternoon but the answer was always the same.
He often wished they’d invent something like the Star Trek communicator that you could carry in a pocket and call people when you needed to speak to them, or tell Scotty to beam you up.