FIFTY-THREE
I didn’t say anything to Jason about Donald and Frisbee or the shadowy figure at Steve’s when he woke up. I didn’t say anything to him at all until after we’d had our breakfast. When he got out of bed he was sluggish and dispirited. He went through the motions of getting dressed and getting himself to the table but he just poked at his eggs and toast. If our mom thought anything was wrong with him or if she had heard about what had happened to Amber, she neither said nor showed it.
It wasn’t until he was back in our room and sitting on his bed, head hung to his chest, that I said, “Jason, I need to tell you something. Steve and Cory too.”
He looked up at me for a moment; his eyes were wet but not running, and dropped his head once again.
“Not now,” he told me.
I sort of had a sense of how he was feeling. I knew that there was someone in his life, someone whom he was close to, that he would probably never see again and it hurt my heart to see him that way.
“Jason, please,” I begged. “It’s important. It’s real important. But I have to tell all of you at the same time.”
He looked up at me once more, eyes even sadder. I regretted it but I had to say it. It was the only way I could get him moving.
“I think it’s about Amber.”
Caught off guard by her name, he narrowed his eyes at me. “What about her?” he asked in an almost accusatory tone.
I shook my head and said, “Please, I’ll tell you, but we have to go talk to Steve and Cory too.”
After a moment he finally relented and the two of us told our mom that we were going out to play just like we would on any other summer day.
“Okay, just come back when you want lunch,” she hollered as the screen door shut behind us.
The day outside was already hot, but now the same dark clouds from the night before draped the sky like a boggy swamp. A faint shudder of thunder called out across the southland but no lightening could be seen, not yet anyway.
When we crossed the street I asked Jason to get Steve and told him that I would see if Cory was up yet. As luck had it he was and he’d already had his breakfast. Cory and I walked next door to the Hanel’s and found Steve and Jason talking quietly on his porch, Frisbee sat patiently at their feet. Steve nodded his head in a ‘What’s up?’ gesture as we approached.
“Ricky, what’s this all about?” Steve asked. “Jason says you’re dying to tell us something. Give up.”
I could only stand there for a minute, silent, thinking back to what had happened the previous night. Or had it been early that morning? Either way it was the same. Either way it was crazy. God, I hoped they believed me.
Finally, after getting my head straight, I said, “I know you guys are going to think this is nuts but…” I wasn’t sure how to continue without making myself look like the world’s stupidest kid with the world’s biggest imagination so I just decided to begin simple and see where it went. “Steve, I saw someone at your house last night.”
For a moment they only stared blankly back at me, waiting for me to continue. Steve blinked and shrugged.
“What do you mean you saw someone here last night? I don’t get it.”
I looked down at Frisbee searching for the right words to say. He looked back, his beautiful gold eyes staring into mine, urging me on.
I started once again. “I came outside last night and saw someone on the side of your house.”
Jason, still despondent and glum, asked, “What, did you come back out after dinner or something?”
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “No. I mean late last night. Like after midnight, I think. I woke up and went out.”
“Why would you do that, Ricky?” Steve said. “What would make you get up out of bed and go out in the middle of the night?”
Before I even had a chance to think, I blurted, “Donald took me.”
And there it was. I hadn’t been sure I even wanted to tell them about my late night visitor and have them think I’d lost my bearings, but now it was too late.
They stared at me. Moments passed and I felt like a bug under a microscope. The three of them began to look as if they wanted to hit me. Jason looked about ready to cry again.
“Donald’s dead,” Cory said, flat. The two words were punctuated with a distant grumble of thunder.
As if this revelation had come as a surprise to him, Steve said, “What? When?”
“That’s what Jason and Ricky’s mom brought them in to tell them yesterday,” Cory said looking at us. “Right?”
We both nodded.
He went on. “When I went in my mom told me about it too.” He then looked at Steve. “Your mom didn’t tell you?”
Steve shook his head. “No. She got home kind of late last night. I was already asleep.”
Cory nodded and said, “Sunday.”
“Oh, God,” Steve croaked, looking stunned and sickened all at once. After a moment he looked at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “Why would you say something like that? That ain’t funny.”
“Steve,” I pleaded, “it’s not a joke. You guys, I saw someone over there last night.” I pointed to the side of Steve’s house were the gate was. “I know it sounds stupid but Donald came to me last night and told me to go by the hedges on our lawn and when I looked at your house I saw someone closing your gate.”
“So you’re saying Donald’s ghost took you out for a midnight stroll?” Cory snorted. He then added some spooky sounds for affect. “Ooooh.”
“Shut up!” I yelled at him and he actually did after flinching.
As if I were a three-year-old, Steve tried to explain what had happened to me. “Ricky, it was a dream. You know? That’s all. There are no such things as ghosts. Besides, if there had been someone at my house, Frisbee would have barked his head off and I didn’t hear him all night.”
“That’s because he was with me. On the lawn,” I told him. “See Donald took me to Frisbee and it was Frisbee that showed me the person by your gate. Closing your gate.”
Now it seemed as though he were becoming impatient with me. They all were.
“There’s no way Frisbee can get out of my yard. I’ve checked. I saw him in his doghouse before I went to sleep last night. I checked,” Steve exclaimed, jabbing a finger at my chest on the last word.
“Donald said it was the killer,” I told them. “He said it was that Sesame Street Killer we read about, the one that killed those girls. He said-“
“Enough shit, Ricky,” Jason cried angrily. “Whatever you’re trying to do, like Steve said, it ain’t funny.”
Frisbee began to bark and become agitated, whining and wagging his tail.
“Not cool, Ricky,” Steve said shaking his head. “Your brother’s already feeling like crap over Amber. You’re just making him feel worse.”
“Yeah,” Jason said with a flutter. “I’m going back home,” and turned and started off.
Frisbee was now marching toward the driveway, barking even louder and more rapidly. I couldn’t find a way to make them believe me which frustrated me to no end and I finally ended up yelling at all of them.
“I’m not making this shit up! You guys have to believe me! Donald said more girls will die!”
“Damn it, Ricky,” Steve said. “Get a hold of yourself.”
It had gotten their attention though. I felt bad about raising my voice to them and didn’t do it again. I simply muttered one word; “Please.”
Now standing at the edge of the driveway, about where I had seen the figure the night before, Frisbee continued his tireless barking.
Jason walked back toward us and Steve said, “I don’t know what you want us to do.” He then turned to Frisbee. “That’s enough, boy.”
But Frisbee kept up regardless.
Steve laid a hand on my shoulder, about to say something else but rolled his eyes instead and turned back toward the dog. “Frisbee. Quiet down!”
He didn’t quiet down though. Instead he walked to the gate on the side of the house
and barked louder. It dawned on me then; Donald had taken me to Frisbee and in turn Frisbee had shown me the killer.
He will show you something.
“Come here,” I said. “All of you.”
I started toward the side gate at Steve’s yard, the other three trailing behind. Frisbee had his nose against the wooden planks of the fence, sniffing. His barking stopped once he saw that we intended to come to him.
“Open it up,” I told Steve.
He rolled his eyes again but humored me and snaked his arm over the top, unlatched the catch and pushed.
“Donald told me that Frisbee was going to show me something,” I said as the gate swung neatly open. “I think he’s still showing me.” A pause, then: “Us.”
Carefully trotting around the condensation puddle under the dryer vent, Frisbee went around and stuck his nose close to the wet, mushy mud as if to point and gave one last bark. There, in the middle of the muck, directly below Jackie’s window, was a single, large shoeprint.
Steve looked down at it and lost his breath a moment and then said, “Holy, God.”
Again, far off, thunder rolled like falling blocks.
Frisbee Page 61