OCR Text |
Show Ferguson Lives Butch and Fenn Stories 22 "Yeah, maybe." Then I sit down by Fenn, because Butch is thinking it all through, whatever it is going to be. Fenn is really wincing at the small print on the advertisement page in Superboy. I know what he wants: X-Ray Glasses with which he could see through his hand. The tiny illustration shows somebody looking at the bones in a hand. Fenn is trying to figure a way the X-Ray Glasses would help him become a great hitter. Butch is starting to shuffle some of the gear, and so we'll have an answer soon. The television standing on the table looks like an altar or a rocket, so I figure we're going to have some kind of rites, but Butch isn't talking. "I gotta go to practice," Fenn says, folding the magazine into his back pocket and picking up his baseball bat. "Yeah," Butch says. He lets Fenn feel his way almost up the stairs before he adds: "You coming back tonight?" "Should I?" "If you want to." It's enough of a truce and Fenn leaves. For awhile then I watch Butch string wires in the back of the old television set. I think he's making a bomb to blow his house out of the ground once his father really does come home. I don't know; I've never seen him quite this wound up, though it's been an intense summer all around. "I've gotta go, Butch. I should eat dinner and check in." "Yeah, sure," he says. "I'll go with you. I should see Fenn at the park. They'll be batting by now." |