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Show Car Baseball Butch and Fenn Stories 65 along the ground like the head of a vacuum cleaner. And he caught Parley talking to Carol at the old foot bridge. It was lucky for them that they hadn't started walking together. Mr. Wilkes is pretty smart; he pulled over to the side of the road, down a hundred yards, and stopped. Of course, when they saw him, they froze, and instantly Carol folded her arms over her books and trotted over to the car. For a moment nothing looked dangerous. Butch and Fenn and I were across the river, still in the schoolyard, throwing rocks at Fenn's thermos. He is the only kid I know stupid or wasteful enough when he is bored to throw his thermos in the river so we'd have a target. It wasn't even really a very good target. It wouldn't break and sink; it just bobbed and bobbed all the way past the floral company. But while we were throwing at it, I saw Parley step out - off the bridge - right into the street. He had been chased by the same car all over the stupid neighborhood and nearly smashed between things and had his hands all torn up from vaulting the trashy fences our neighbors all put up, but still Parley stepped out fairly openly, as a gesture of good will, I guess, toward the murderous old man. After a few steps, he relaxed and went into his regular bounce and stride. He was going to walk right by the Plymouth. Carol was sitting inside, but that didn't stop Mr. Wilkes from dropping the automatic into Drive and slamming the accelerator to the floor, swerving way left off the road, leaving |
