easy—”
Charlie wasn’t listening. He headed toward the video-game in a cold rage, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and shoving him roughly to one side. Then he stooped and ripped the plug of the machine from the wall. Caught off balance, the youngster stumbled and fell against the baseboard.
Almost before she realized it, Helen was on her feet. “Stop that!” she cried.
Suddenly there was silence, all eyes focussing on Helen as she moved to the far wall and helped the child to his feet.
As she did so, their eyes met briefly. To her surprise, Helen saw that the boy was smiling. Turning abruptly, he ran to the door, yanked it open, and raced out.
Embarrassed, the big man lowered his gaze, then moved away to resume his seat at the table.
Helen glanced toward the counter; behind it, the counterman stood staring, and his worried expression told her he’d returned in time to witness the altercation.
“Sorry, lady,” he murmured. “These guys—they take their sports real serious.”
Helen nodded. “Nice town.”
Moving to the door she made her exit, letting it slam behind her.
Only then did she relax. Peace.
Crossing to her car, she shook her head in rueful self-reproval. Why had she allowed herself to lose her temper that way? What happened back there was really none of her business; but on the other hand, she had no choice. She just couldn’t stand to see a child mistreated that way. Thank goodness he hadn’t been hurt.
Reaching the car, Helen slid her key into the door lock, glancing around as she did so. The parking area was deserted; the boy had disappeared.
Probably ran all the way home, Helen decided. And yet he hadn’t seemed frightened.
Helen remembered the way he’d smiled when she’d helped him to his feet. There was something odd about that smile; was she imagining things, or had it conveyed a hint of secret understanding? Funny kid.
Funny Helen. Sliding into the seat before the steering wheel, she shook her head, remembering her resolution. Time to forget about what had happened, time to put the show on the road and make it over to Willoughby before dark.
Closing the door, she glanced through the side window, noting with surprise that twilight had already descended. To emphasize its coming, a neon beer-sign blinked on above the café entrance.
Helen turned the key in the ignition and the motor started. As her foot found the gas pedal, she released her parking brake, put the car in reverse, and started to back out before turning toward the driveway exit.
Suddenly she glanced up at the rearview mirror just in time to see a blur of movement behind her. Through the twilight she caught a glimpse of the boy on a bicycle speeding directly across the lot behind her.
Quickly she floored the brake, but as the car screeched to a halt there was a sudden, sickening thud.
“Oh no!” she cried.
Wrenching the door open, Helen lunged out and headed around the side of the car at a dead run. Then she halted behind it, staring down in shock.
The boy was sprawled on the pavement beside his bike, eyes closed, breathing hard. Then, as she bent over him, his eyes opened.
“Are you all right?” Helen gasped.
The child nodded. “Yeah—I guess so—”
Helen knelt beside him. “Can you move your arms and legs?”
“Uh huh.”
As Helen watched anxiously, the youngster started to sit up.
“Easy there,” she said. “Tell me where it hurts.”
The boy rubbed his left shoulder. “Just here. I must’ve hit it when I fell off.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not broke or anything.”
He started to get up and Helen put her hand on his arm, slowing his movement. “Not too fast,” she said. “See if you can put your weight on your feet.”
“Sure—you see?” The boy stood erect, rubbing his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, honest.”
Now, for the first time, Helen turned her attention to the bike. Its wheels lay bent and twisted beneath the rear tires of the
Charlie wasn’t listening. He headed toward the video-game in a cold rage, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and shoving him roughly to one side. Then he stooped and ripped the plug of the machine from the wall. Caught off balance, the youngster stumbled and fell against the baseboard.
Almost before she realized it, Helen was on her feet. “Stop that!” she cried.
Suddenly there was silence, all eyes focussing on Helen as she moved to the far wall and helped the child to his feet.
As she did so, their eyes met briefly. To her surprise, Helen saw that the boy was smiling. Turning abruptly, he ran to the door, yanked it open, and raced out.
Embarrassed, the big man lowered his gaze, then moved away to resume his seat at the table.
Helen glanced toward the counter; behind it, the counterman stood staring, and his worried expression told her he’d returned in time to witness the altercation.
“Sorry, lady,” he murmured. “These guys—they take their sports real serious.”
Helen nodded. “Nice town.”
Moving to the door she made her exit, letting it slam behind her.
Only then did she relax. Peace.
Crossing to her car, she shook her head in rueful self-reproval. Why had she allowed herself to lose her temper that way? What happened back there was really none of her business; but on the other hand, she had no choice. She just couldn’t stand to see a child mistreated that way. Thank goodness he hadn’t been hurt.
Reaching the car, Helen slid her key into the door lock, glancing around as she did so. The parking area was deserted; the boy had disappeared.
Probably ran all the way home, Helen decided. And yet he hadn’t seemed frightened.
Helen remembered the way he’d smiled when she’d helped him to his feet. There was something odd about that smile; was she imagining things, or had it conveyed a hint of secret understanding? Funny kid.
Funny Helen. Sliding into the seat before the steering wheel, she shook her head, remembering her resolution. Time to forget about what had happened, time to put the show on the road and make it over to Willoughby before dark.
Closing the door, she glanced through the side window, noting with surprise that twilight had already descended. To emphasize its coming, a neon beer-sign blinked on above the café entrance.
Helen turned the key in the ignition and the motor started. As her foot found the gas pedal, she released her parking brake, put the car in reverse, and started to back out before turning toward the driveway exit.
Suddenly she glanced up at the rearview mirror just in time to see a blur of movement behind her. Through the twilight she caught a glimpse of the boy on a bicycle speeding directly across the lot behind her.
Quickly she floored the brake, but as the car screeched to a halt there was a sudden, sickening thud.
“Oh no!” she cried.
Wrenching the door open, Helen lunged out and headed around the side of the car at a dead run. Then she halted behind it, staring down in shock.
The boy was sprawled on the pavement beside his bike, eyes closed, breathing hard. Then, as she bent over him, his eyes opened.
“Are you all right?” Helen gasped.
The child nodded. “Yeah—I guess so—”
Helen knelt beside him. “Can you move your arms and legs?”
“Uh huh.”
As Helen watched anxiously, the youngster started to sit up.
“Easy there,” she said. “Tell me where it hurts.”
The boy rubbed his left shoulder. “Just here. I must’ve hit it when I fell off.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not broke or anything.”
He started to get up and Helen put her hand on his arm, slowing his movement. “Not too fast,” she said. “See if you can put your weight on your feet.”
“Sure—you see?” The boy stood erect, rubbing his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, honest.”
Now, for the first time, Helen turned her attention to the bike. Its wheels lay bent and twisted beneath the rear tires of the
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