excited. Suzi was adventurous, Terry knew. For Suzi this was fun.
Terry felt a tightness in his throat as he stood in front of them, with the quiet ocean moving behind him, and the mild breeze blowing past. He felt like he loved all these people, some of whom he barely knew, and in other circumstances might have been scornful of. He knew he wasn’t a very scornful guy, but these people covered a pretty good spectrum. Perry was probably queer. Otis was a nerd. Carly was a basketball star. Tank was very big. Suzi was a sex-pot. Bev was some sort of goody-goody. Bellino was mainstream. Mitchell was ... hell, he didn’t know anything about Mitchell.
“So if we really have to,” Abby continued, “I figure we can pull about forty people together.”
“Easy,” Tank said. “Everybody likes Abby, and nobody likes Kip Carter. It’s a no-brainer.”
“Anyway,” Terry said. “I just want to thank you for standing up for us.”
“And Jason,” Perry said.
Terry nodded.
“And Jason,” he said.
“Hell, Terry,” Tank said. “This is fun.”
“Yeah,” Carly said, “and who you rather have fun with than Carter and Bullard.”
“And maybe Old Lady Trent,” Bev said.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“Bev?” Suzi said.
“Well, I don’t like her,” Bev said.
He knew they were right. For most of them this was like a war game, like cops and robbers, but maybe it wasn’t for Perry. And for him and for Abby it had kept getting more serious. But for the rest ... cowboys and Indians ... Didn’t matter. It was a good feeling to have them there.
Terry smiled.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s saddle up.”
CHAPTER 37
E veryone knew it was an election ploy. But Mrs. Trent kept open-door office hours at her campaign headquarters on Main Street, from three to six every day. The office was in a storefront a block up the street from the Coffee Café. At 4:10, Terry and Abby arrived with seven other kids. The seven others waited outside. Across the street, standing inside the entrance to the movie theater, Kip Carter watched Terry and Abby go into the storefront. There was no one in the office but Mrs. Trent and some staff. A Cabot police cruiser was parked outside. The outer office was plastered with campaign posters that said:
SALLY TRENT FOR GOVERNOR
and showed a big picture of the candidate in a white blouse and some pearls.
“Do you kids want to see our next governor?” a young woman said to them. She was seated at a table behind a bank of telephones.
“Yes ma‘am,” Abby said.
“Are you supporters?” the young woman said.
“Of course,” Terry said.
“That’s great,” the young woman said. She turned to a young guy in jeans and a plaid shirt who sat with his feet up at the next table and said, “Get some pictures of this, Harry.”
She stood and went to the inner office door and spoke. In a moment she nodded and turned back.
“Come on in, kids,” she said. “Mrs. Trent would love to see you.”
As they walked to Mrs. Trent’s office, Harry the camera guy stood and came in behind them.
Abby murmured to Terry, “Let them take their pictures first.”
Terry nodded. They went in.
Sally Trent’s office was smaller than the outer one. Just a desk, two guest chairs, and a phone. On the walls were more campaign posters, including some that said:
LET’S RALLY BEHIND SALLY
As they came in, she stood and walked around her desk. She was wearing a tailored gray suit and a French blue shirt with a long collar. The collar was open over the pearls at her throat. Abby already could see that the pearls, which Terry probably hadn’t noticed, were Mrs. Trent’s trademark. She glanced at Harry, then smiled at Terry and Abby.
“Young supporters, how lovely,” she said.
She glanced at the camera, saw that it was ready, and put out her hand.
“Tell me your names,” she said.
“Terry Novak.”
“Abby Hall.”
Mrs. Trent shook both their hands. The camera clicked and flashed as she was
Terry felt a tightness in his throat as he stood in front of them, with the quiet ocean moving behind him, and the mild breeze blowing past. He felt like he loved all these people, some of whom he barely knew, and in other circumstances might have been scornful of. He knew he wasn’t a very scornful guy, but these people covered a pretty good spectrum. Perry was probably queer. Otis was a nerd. Carly was a basketball star. Tank was very big. Suzi was a sex-pot. Bev was some sort of goody-goody. Bellino was mainstream. Mitchell was ... hell, he didn’t know anything about Mitchell.
“So if we really have to,” Abby continued, “I figure we can pull about forty people together.”
“Easy,” Tank said. “Everybody likes Abby, and nobody likes Kip Carter. It’s a no-brainer.”
“Anyway,” Terry said. “I just want to thank you for standing up for us.”
“And Jason,” Perry said.
Terry nodded.
“And Jason,” he said.
“Hell, Terry,” Tank said. “This is fun.”
“Yeah,” Carly said, “and who you rather have fun with than Carter and Bullard.”
“And maybe Old Lady Trent,” Bev said.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“Bev?” Suzi said.
“Well, I don’t like her,” Bev said.
He knew they were right. For most of them this was like a war game, like cops and robbers, but maybe it wasn’t for Perry. And for him and for Abby it had kept getting more serious. But for the rest ... cowboys and Indians ... Didn’t matter. It was a good feeling to have them there.
Terry smiled.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s saddle up.”
CHAPTER 37
E veryone knew it was an election ploy. But Mrs. Trent kept open-door office hours at her campaign headquarters on Main Street, from three to six every day. The office was in a storefront a block up the street from the Coffee Café. At 4:10, Terry and Abby arrived with seven other kids. The seven others waited outside. Across the street, standing inside the entrance to the movie theater, Kip Carter watched Terry and Abby go into the storefront. There was no one in the office but Mrs. Trent and some staff. A Cabot police cruiser was parked outside. The outer office was plastered with campaign posters that said:
SALLY TRENT FOR GOVERNOR
and showed a big picture of the candidate in a white blouse and some pearls.
“Do you kids want to see our next governor?” a young woman said to them. She was seated at a table behind a bank of telephones.
“Yes ma‘am,” Abby said.
“Are you supporters?” the young woman said.
“Of course,” Terry said.
“That’s great,” the young woman said. She turned to a young guy in jeans and a plaid shirt who sat with his feet up at the next table and said, “Get some pictures of this, Harry.”
She stood and went to the inner office door and spoke. In a moment she nodded and turned back.
“Come on in, kids,” she said. “Mrs. Trent would love to see you.”
As they walked to Mrs. Trent’s office, Harry the camera guy stood and came in behind them.
Abby murmured to Terry, “Let them take their pictures first.”
Terry nodded. They went in.
Sally Trent’s office was smaller than the outer one. Just a desk, two guest chairs, and a phone. On the walls were more campaign posters, including some that said:
LET’S RALLY BEHIND SALLY
As they came in, she stood and walked around her desk. She was wearing a tailored gray suit and a French blue shirt with a long collar. The collar was open over the pearls at her throat. Abby already could see that the pearls, which Terry probably hadn’t noticed, were Mrs. Trent’s trademark. She glanced at Harry, then smiled at Terry and Abby.
“Young supporters, how lovely,” she said.
She glanced at the camera, saw that it was ready, and put out her hand.
“Tell me your names,” she said.
“Terry Novak.”
“Abby Hall.”
Mrs. Trent shook both their hands. The camera clicked and flashed as she was
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