Boys & Girls Together Read Online Free PDF

Taste it, he thought. Go on. His sister stared straight into the quiet night. His mother turned constantly, gazing down Nassau Street for the boy, the expression on her face growing more and more desperate as the hours went by. Aaron’s body flamed. Giddy, he waited, exultant; he watched, enraptured, triumphant, revenged. Taste it. Go on. Go on. Taste it, bitch. Taste it, whore. Taste the wrath of Aaron Fire!

II
    W ALT WAS TRAILING BIG Nose Tim Connery while his mother died.
    The June sun felt cold on Walt’s freckled skin and he knew his teeth were just aching to chatter. He was scared; no use denying it. But he was not ashamed of his fear. Who wouldn’t be afraid of Big Nose Tim Connery, wanted for grand and petit larceny, arson, fraudulent use of the U.S. mails, and who was—according to the poster in the post office where
    Walt got all his information— KNOWN TO BE ARMED. Big Nose Tim Connery stopped. Walt dashed behind a tree. Big Nose turned. Walt held his breath. A dozen or so lush streets away, in St. Louis’ wealthiest suburb, Walt’s mother lay dozing in her white bedroom, a nurse in an easy chair sitting close beside. The doctor, on his morning visit, had pronounced Emily Kirkaby to be “resting comfortably”—can you rest comfortably with terminal cancer?—but no one was kidding anyone anymore. It was simply a mathematical matter—seconds, minutes, perhaps days—until Emily died.
    Big Nose Tim Connery started walking again, faster now. Walt, on the far side of the street, pushed his glasses up snug against the bridge of his nose with his left thumb, then dashed forward into the shadow of the next protective tree trunk. He continued on, from tree to tree, and as he passed some kids playing marbles on a lawn the thought crossed his mind that he must have looked like a nut. But what did kids know anyway? It was lonely work, gangbusting, and you just couldn’t care about appearances; you had your job to do and you did it and that was that.
    Big Nose stopped again. Walt froze behind a tree. Big Nose took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. Walt noted the action down in his notebook with his pencil stub. He had a list of Big Nose’s activities for the past twenty minutes and it probably would come in handy at the trial. Walt peeked out from behind the tree and, seeing his quarry back on the move, darted out of the shadows toward the next tree, but Big Nose Tim Connery turned and Walt, caught between shelters, was momentarily visible, so he casually dropped to his knees and began searching for four-leaf clovers. Big Nose Tim Connery never suspected a thing. Walt had to smile. Walt the Whizzer. That was his favorite name for himself: Whizzer. His full name was Egbert Walters Kirkaby, and he hated it. Most everyone called him Walt, which was O.K., except his lousy brother Arnold, who called him Egbert or Berty. But Whizzer was the name he cherished above all. Walt the Whizzer. The Whizzer strikes again. Walt the great whizzer Kirkaby. Whizzer! That was a name . Up ahead of him, Big Nose was moving, so Walt got up from the clovers, confident now that the end was in sight, because Big Nose Tim Connery swung up the walk leading to a large bastard-Tudor house, knocked once and, when the door opened, disappeared inside. Walt made a note of the house number, then dashed to the house directly across the street. He rang the bell and when the door opened he said, “Pardon me, ma’am, but my name is Walt Kirkaby and could I use your phone please?”
    The woman knew the name Kirkaby—everyone in the town knew that name—so she said “Certainly” and led him to the living room. Walt peered out the living-room window; it was perfect, the Tudor house across the street was completely within his sight so if Big Nose tried a getaway, the Whizzer would be on him in a flash. Walt picked up the phone, and when he got the police station he whispered, “Gimme Sergeant Quinlan. It’s life and death. Gimme Quinlan.