CHAPTER 1
Page 231.
Her white, palomino-tipped breasts were heaving, as her breathing became heavy. She clutched at the sheets tightly as a shiver of pleasure passed through her passion-filled body. She felt she would explode. As she was about to ...
"Randy?"
Almost jumping out of his skin, Randy dropped the rain-stained paperback book he was reading as quickly but nonchalantly as he could. He read the book by his screenless window just for this reason. He didn't want his mother to know that he had the book. He didn't want her to know he was reading that kind of book.
His bedroom was perfectly suited to help him disguise his secret behavior. The ceiling slanted down over his bed from the middle of the room down toward the floor. The people who had the house constructed had placed a window in the four feet of wall space, which hinged to swing outwardly. The window was near the foot of Randy's bed.
Randy would lay across the bed with his window propped open. He did this on cold winter days as well as hot summer days so that he would be consistent in his behavior. He didn't want the open window to be out of the ordinary. He had knocked the screen out long ago and broken the screen's frame in order to keep the screen from being replaced. The window was truly such an odd size; it would be nearly impossible to replace the screen without constructing an entirely new frame.
Randy didn't want to build a new one and his stepfather didn't really care if Randy's window had a screen or not. The window wasn't in Randy's stepfather's room.
Randy Harrison had read and reread the sultry novel many times. Quite often he had to drop the book out of the window when anyone would enter his room. Once he had dropped it and it had fallen onto his sister's head. She had brought the book back to him, but not without a few comments. He didn't know how many times he had dropped it. He dropped it in the rain, the sunshine and even in the snow. The two-story fall had not hurt the steamy paperback as much as the weather had discolored and aged the pages.
Despite being stained by standing water, melting snow and raindrops, and the harsh sun-discolored pages, it still had the thrills Randy was looking to find. He didn't always remember to pick it up the same day or the next day. Then suddenly he would remember and scurry to retrieve the book before anyone could find it.
Once or twice he had remembered in a panic while sitting at his desk at school. He prayed all day that his mother had not discovered the tawdry pulp novel when she had gone outside to the clothesline to hang up the daily wash. Luck had been with him so far.
"Randy!" His mother called again a little bit louder.
He turned his head and said, "Oh, sorry Mom. I was daydreaming about how nice it would be to be outside on this fine summer's day."
"Well you wouldn't have to be daydreaming about it, if you learned to behave yourself once in a while," his mom retorted in her condescending way.
"I didn't do anything wrong for Dad to have to send me to my room. Sometimes I think he doesn't like me." Randy stated trying to pull his mother to his side of the discussion.
"He likes you just fine," she said. "You should try and get along with him a little better."
"He likes me when I'm not bothering him. And believe me ... I try not to bother Mr. Warmth."
"Okay, that's enough," his mother scolded. She didn't want to become involved in a long discussion about her son's relationship with his stepfather. But she made a mental note to speak to Harlan later. She felt he could be cranky around the house.
"Harlan said you could go to your Aunt Carrie's if you want to go," his mother offered.
"Great ... it'll be nice to smell the fresh air and feel the warmth of the sun," Randy replied sarcastically. "How long can I stay for?"
"A couple of weeks, Mr. Smart Aleck," his mother said. "You know this was brought on by yourself. You're lucky we're letting you go to Carrie's. Now put your things together while I go and ask your sister if she wants to go with you."
"Okay. Okay," Randy muttered. He watched his mom wag her finger at him as she turned to leave his room.
He knew he had caused his own problems this time. Things just sort of snowballed the last few days. He was thankful for the chance to go to his Aunt's house down in Colmboro. The country air would do him good and he would have a chance to see his friends ... especially Mary Jo.
Trouble was not something he usually aimed for on a day to day basis, but it seemed to be around him on a constant basis. He and his friends had been hanging out on the other side of the railroad tracks at Eugene Jones house when they had decided to play baseball. They always played their games on a vacant field two blocks down from Randy's house this side of the railroad tracks.
As they made their way towards the tracks, a huge mile-long freight train began to amble by clattering on the tracks and blocking their path over the crossing. This would not have been a problem had the train continued on through town, but as trains sometime do; it came to a complete stop blocking the way of the anxious baseball players.
One thing led to another about how to cross the tracks with the freight train in the way. Boys were bragging about how they could climb over and under the train. His hotshot rival among the gang, Dean Pringle, called out Randy's brag. Both boys constantly vied for the unofficial leadership of the group – always trying to outdo one another.
Randy had boasted himself into a corner. He could sense a part of the group wanted him to crawl under the train as he stated he would, and he felt another part of the group didn't think he had the foolhardiness to do it. The girls were trying to talk him out of it. Dean was egging him on with his smug, smarmy taunts about his manhood. Randy could read in the eyes of the boys that shone bright with anticipation of the confrontation if he failed to deliver on his boast.
Randy wanted to crawl under the train to shut Dean up. He wanted to do it so that his prestige would raise high among his friends. He wanted to really impress the girls even as they were asking him not to do such a simple-minded dangerous act. But all that Randy could think of was the social status of a fifteen-year-old gangly black-haired boy would be greatly enhanced by this daring but foolish maneuver. His thoughts of popularity among the girls pushed him over the top. He mustered his courage and moved forward to crawl under the heavy steel railroad car.
Randy had to squat with his hands touching the hot pavement and steel rails for balance. He ducked his head so as not to bump it on the mechanical metal protrusion underneath of the car. As he folded his body halfway under the car, the train jolted to move forward ever so slowly. He reached the halfway mark to the screams of the girls shouting to him that the train was moving. The boys shouted encouragement but not without a tinge of fear. Randy felt a huge wave of adrenaline rush through his body. No panic, but he felt the need to hurry and clear to the other side of the train.
As he exited to the other side of the train, he raised his hands high in the air. He shouted a primal scream. He could hear the cheering from his friends on the reverse side of the train.
What happen next caused Randy's jaw to drop. It must have looked like a cartoon jaw dropping to the hot black macadam. He had spied his mother on the front porch of the McCalister house. He was doomed.
Randy could see his mother's face very clearly. She was only about one hundred feet from where he stood. She was being very calm- saying something to Mrs. McCalister who was pointing into Randy's direction. Randy could see the apprehension mixed with fury stamped upon her visage. He wanted to run, but he didn't dare. He had too much respect to flee his mom. He would have to face the music.
His mom, all five feet two inches of her, was a force to be reckoned with. Her black hair and dark brown eyes accented her pretty face when she was passive and funny, but the dark features transformed her into something much more ominous when she was angry. She always tried to be fair with her children. Sometimes they just crossed the line.
Randy's mom, Sylvia, held that deep seeded, gut-wrenching fear that something was going to happen to her children one day. While she wasn't overprotective, she was very cautious and knowing when it came to her children. To think he may have be hurt, maimed or killed made her want to severely punish him for his stupidity.
Randy walked over to his mother and they had walked home in silence. Randy's friends stared silently as they watched the two of them saunter toward Randy's home. They knew he was in deep trouble. They were glad they were not in his shoes at this moment.
Just before they entered the house, Randy's mother motioned for Randy to sit on the porch. He sat on the steps and his mom sat in the chain-hung, wooden-slatted swing.
"Mom, I'm sorry ..." Randy started, trying to break the unbearable silence.
"Wait a moment until I've calmed down and collected my thoughts," Sylvia said as she held up her hand to stop him from speaking.
"Yes ma'am," he said softly and politely.
Randy toyed with his shoes, pulling on the rubber striping that wrapped around the outside of his Converse sneakers. A million thoughts were running through his head. Just his luck to be caught when things were going so well lately. He had not been in trouble since school had let out for the summer. But this appeared to be big-time trouble.
"Randy ... I've no idea what you were thinking about. Why on earth did you crawl under the train? Don't you know you could've been killed or maimed?" His mother continued speaking but talked so fast Randy didn't have a chance to volunteer any answers.
"I don't know what on earth I'm going to do with you," she continued. "As of now, you are grounded. You can't leave the yard for another three weeks. I should really beat the tar out of you, ya' know."
"Mom, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. The train wasn't even moving. I ..."
"That's enough young man. There is no excuse for what you did. Even if the train wasn't moving—and I believe I saw it moving, you could've caught your foot or bumped your head. Then who knows what would have happened. You're going to drive me to an early grave. Between you and your sister, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown."
With that said, his mother rose and walked over to the screen door and held it open waiting for Randy to go through ahead of her. As he passed, she lightly rapped the back of his head with a slap of frustrated affection. He was a pain, but she loved him.
"Ouch. That really hurt," he said feigning pain.
"Sure it did. I should beat you more often."
"Mom, are you going to tell Harlan?" asked Randy.
"I've really no choice. He'll wonder why you're staying around the house, "she replied.
After she told Harlan what had happened, he added to the punishment which is when the rest of Randy's trouble began. He was sentenced to sitting on the floor for two solid days. He couldn't leave the house or his position on the floor without permission. He was only allowed to visit the bathroom, go to bed and eat his meals.
Randy would have rather had a whipping so that the punishment would have been completed, but he never received corporal punishment. He always had privileges and freedom of movement taken away. Sitting on the floor for two days was totally embarrassing for a fifteen-year-old boy. So when the chance for revenge struck, Randy took advantage.
Harlan Finewick was the most sullen man Randy had ever met. Randy knew there wasn't a man alive, who could match up with his father, but his father was no longer at home, and he had to accept the fact that Harlan was the self-imposed lord and master of the house. Harlan had not really been that mean to Randy. He just didn't have any humor to him. He did little when he was not at work; He sat in the frumpy old chair he brought with him when he moved into the house. He read cheap paperbacks by the hundreds. He read his monthly Playboy magazines at the beginning of each month. Randy was sure he read the articles and ignored the pictures. He was equally sure that Harlan never read the comics in the magazine, because he had never heard him laugh or seen him crack a smile.
Randy also didn't like the way Harlan would look at his seventeen-year-old sister. He hated the way Harlan would sneak a peek at his sister's rear end as she was exiting the room. A few times Harlan had sensed Randy was watching him. Harlan would hold the eye contact momentarily and then retreat back to his current paperback. Randy would not look away. He had spoken to his sister about the surreptitious leer, but she shrugged it off. She said all men were alike—sex-maniac scum.
If there was any other constant in Harlan's life, it was his desire and obsession for coffee. The man drank cup after cup after cup. Randy estimated the man drank at least ten cups of coffee a day and that was just while he was at home; who knew how many cups he drank at work on the second shift during the evening at the luggage factory. Everyone else in the house was a slave to the master in this regard. They were all called upon to deliver the coffee to Harlan as he sat in his tattered old chair reading his paperback novels. Randy felt the urge to produce a restaurant check for his services, but he didn't want to cause any waves of dissatisfaction for his mom.
Randy was counting on Harlan's obsession with coffee for an opportunity to stretch his legs. He watched Harlan with casual glances, discerning when the coffee cup was empty. Randy knew it would only be minutes before the call to refill the cup would be ringing from his stepfather's lips. Randy knew his mom and sister were outside with the laundry. He would be the logical choice to refill the cup with coffee.
"Do you want me to get you another cup of coffee?" Randy asked. He could wait no longer. He wanted to walk around for a while.
"No, I'll get it myself. You stay there and think of how you can learn to be a more responsible person," Harlan answered.
A few seconds later, Harlan stood up, picked up his coffee cup and headed out to the kitchen. At this point Randy was simmering slightly. He was miffed. This man really tried to aggravate him when his mother wasn't around, Randy could've have sworn he saw a smirk on the man's face as he walked past. Randy stared straight ahead at the television. He didn't say anything in response to Harlan.
Randy could hear the muted conversation of his sister and mother as they entered the house through the kitchen door. His dog Dodo came into the house at the same time. The dog raced through the house until he found Randy. Randy gave him a hug, a few pats on the head and a teasing hold of the muzzle. They played a few moments before Dodo found the throw rug under the coffee table and laid down.
Harlan reentered the room with his coffee. Randy replaced his happy expression his dog had given him with a dour one for his stepfather. Harlan placed his coffee cup on the end table beside his chair. The coffee cup was strategically placed to the right side of the chair on its coffee-stained doily. Harlan used his right hand to drink the coffee even though he claimed to be ambidextrous.
"Now I've got to go to the bathroom," Harlan said to no one in particular. Besides, Randy was the only one in the room and he ignored the comment.
Dodo picked himself up and walked over to Harlan who rubbed his head and left for the bathroom.
Harlan had given Dodo his name, albeit the dog was Randy's dog. Harlan had said the dog was stupid as a puppy and reminded him of a Dodo bird. The name stuck and he's been called Dodo ever since the statement had been made. He seemed to live up to the moniker on occasion, like when he stood outside of his doghouse when it rained rather than go inside. But he was cute and cuddly and loved by the family – especially Randy.
