revenges for the price of one, on different boys and for different reasons. “Well, he got it the same way you do,” said Aaron, just to stir the others up.
Jackie had boasted about his light-fingered ways at candy counters too freely to bother denying it. But Charlie, whose own dad was a juvenile officer? “I bet he didn’t,” Jackie said darkly.
“You weren’t gonna tell, Aaron,” said Charlie, unbothered by such a whopper and able to modify his policy about lies where Jackie was concerned. He was fully engaged in this swindle on a moment’s notice. “Besides, the owners said it was okay because I always tell them when I know”—and here he deliberately glanced in Jackie’s direction—“who else is doin’ it.”
“You better not, you B-Word,” Jackie snarled, but suddenly pale with the fear of the amateur shoplifter.
“How do you know he means you?” said Aaron.
Before Jackie could reply, Charlie made his head snap around with, “Did the police come to your house yet?”
Fearing his voice might crack, Jackie could only shake his head.
“Then I didn’t mean you, did I?” Charlie said. “Not yet, anyhow.”
Jackie trembled with relief. “B-Word,” he said again.
Charlie did not take the insult with helpless anger. “Maybe you’ll just flat give me the rest of that rubber, Jackie,” he said. “If I can’t buy it, maybe you’ll purely have to give it to me. Or else.”
“Else what?” Even though Jackie knew exactly what.
But Charlie told him anyway. “I tell.”
A three-way silence enveloped the shed. Then Jackie said, in a voice tinged with awe, “Blackmail.”
Charlie cocked his head as if to consider this charge until, “Yeah, Charlie, it is,” Aaron said softly. “If he gives you the rubber and you don’t tell, you’re a blackmailer. If he doesn’t and you do tell, you’re a snitch. If he gives it to you and you tell anyhow, he can tell the police on you, so you go to jail with him.”
Fascinated by all the possibilities, Charlie said, “But what if he doesn’t give me the rubber and I stay mum anyhow?”
After a dramatic moment, Aaron shrugged and began to use the scissors again. “Then I think you’re a dummy.”
Charlie nodded. But, “Blackmailer is worse,” Jackie muttered.
“Dummy’s worse,” said Charlie.
“Blackmail.”
“Dummy.”
Louder now: “Blackmail. You calling me a liar?” This was a fighting word, and against a younger boy Jackie was always ready.
Aaron managed to cloud the issue nicely with, “Nobody knows which one he is yet, Jackie. We’ll have to wait and see. You can make him either one you want to; depends on what you do.”
This kind of debate put Jackie into a state of confusion that he dealt with by stalking stiff-legged to the door. “I don’t have to put up with this,” he said with wounded dignity.
“Put up with what?” Aaron said, pretending innocence. But Jackie had already sped away. After a moment’s silence, Aaron smiled. “Get him mixed up enough and I bet he’d bust himself square in the mouth.”
“Why’d you let that scutter know you had so much money?”
“’Cause I need the rubber. Why’d you let him see you with a candy bar?”
Charlie shrugged. “Aw, I just didn’t think. This isn’t over, guy, he knows we’re rich. We’ll have to be extra careful.”
They hooked pinkie fingers together for a moment in the gesture that sealed agreements, and presently Aaron finished his task. As Charlie stopped in the yard to snap the lock on the garage side door, Aaron began to laugh.
Charlie looked around. “What?”
“Maybe I better not come over here anymore, Charlie. My dad won’t let me play with blackmailers,” said Aaron, and pointed to the walkway near their feet.
Coiled in a tight cylinder and bound with wire, with no explanation needed, lay a roll of gray rubber the size of a coffee cup. Charlie claimed it immediately. “At least now we know what Jackie wants me to be,” he said,
Jackie had boasted about his light-fingered ways at candy counters too freely to bother denying it. But Charlie, whose own dad was a juvenile officer? “I bet he didn’t,” Jackie said darkly.
“You weren’t gonna tell, Aaron,” said Charlie, unbothered by such a whopper and able to modify his policy about lies where Jackie was concerned. He was fully engaged in this swindle on a moment’s notice. “Besides, the owners said it was okay because I always tell them when I know”—and here he deliberately glanced in Jackie’s direction—“who else is doin’ it.”
“You better not, you B-Word,” Jackie snarled, but suddenly pale with the fear of the amateur shoplifter.
“How do you know he means you?” said Aaron.
Before Jackie could reply, Charlie made his head snap around with, “Did the police come to your house yet?”
Fearing his voice might crack, Jackie could only shake his head.
“Then I didn’t mean you, did I?” Charlie said. “Not yet, anyhow.”
Jackie trembled with relief. “B-Word,” he said again.
Charlie did not take the insult with helpless anger. “Maybe you’ll just flat give me the rest of that rubber, Jackie,” he said. “If I can’t buy it, maybe you’ll purely have to give it to me. Or else.”
“Else what?” Even though Jackie knew exactly what.
But Charlie told him anyway. “I tell.”
A three-way silence enveloped the shed. Then Jackie said, in a voice tinged with awe, “Blackmail.”
Charlie cocked his head as if to consider this charge until, “Yeah, Charlie, it is,” Aaron said softly. “If he gives you the rubber and you don’t tell, you’re a blackmailer. If he doesn’t and you do tell, you’re a snitch. If he gives it to you and you tell anyhow, he can tell the police on you, so you go to jail with him.”
Fascinated by all the possibilities, Charlie said, “But what if he doesn’t give me the rubber and I stay mum anyhow?”
After a dramatic moment, Aaron shrugged and began to use the scissors again. “Then I think you’re a dummy.”
Charlie nodded. But, “Blackmailer is worse,” Jackie muttered.
“Dummy’s worse,” said Charlie.
“Blackmail.”
“Dummy.”
Louder now: “Blackmail. You calling me a liar?” This was a fighting word, and against a younger boy Jackie was always ready.
Aaron managed to cloud the issue nicely with, “Nobody knows which one he is yet, Jackie. We’ll have to wait and see. You can make him either one you want to; depends on what you do.”
This kind of debate put Jackie into a state of confusion that he dealt with by stalking stiff-legged to the door. “I don’t have to put up with this,” he said with wounded dignity.
“Put up with what?” Aaron said, pretending innocence. But Jackie had already sped away. After a moment’s silence, Aaron smiled. “Get him mixed up enough and I bet he’d bust himself square in the mouth.”
“Why’d you let that scutter know you had so much money?”
“’Cause I need the rubber. Why’d you let him see you with a candy bar?”
Charlie shrugged. “Aw, I just didn’t think. This isn’t over, guy, he knows we’re rich. We’ll have to be extra careful.”
They hooked pinkie fingers together for a moment in the gesture that sealed agreements, and presently Aaron finished his task. As Charlie stopped in the yard to snap the lock on the garage side door, Aaron began to laugh.
Charlie looked around. “What?”
“Maybe I better not come over here anymore, Charlie. My dad won’t let me play with blackmailers,” said Aaron, and pointed to the walkway near their feet.
Coiled in a tight cylinder and bound with wire, with no explanation needed, lay a roll of gray rubber the size of a coffee cup. Charlie claimed it immediately. “At least now we know what Jackie wants me to be,” he said,
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