HELLz BELLz Read Online Free PDF Page A

get into it.” James looked and saw a middle-aged guy with a pot-belly poking his finger into a younger man’s chest. The younger man, wearing khaki shorts and a knit pullover, tossed the contents of his Starbuck’s cup into the other man’s face.
    “Hot damn!” said Josh. “There they go.”
    James and Josh leaned over the railing and watched the two adults scuffle in front of the coffee shop. “Kick his ass!” Josh yelled at both men.
    Passersby gave the men wide berth as they took turns shoving each other.
    “Shit,” said James. “That all they got?”
    “Give ’em time,” urged Josh. “This is gonna be good.”
    Muzak played from hidden speakers, cutting the balls off an old Rolling Stones tune and making it sound like a harmless children’s ditty.
    James wanted Josh to be wrong. He didn’t want the shoving match to turn into a knock-down-drag-out. For all his gangsta posturing and his professed belief in the superiority of the meanest motherfucker in the valley, James didn’t like violence. In fact, it scared him. He’d seen too many nasty rows between his mom and dad before the old man ran off with a topless dancer when James was ten. He had too many vivid memories of marital violence, like the Valentine’s Day brawl when his old man came home drunk and broke his mother’s nose and his mom fought back with a bottle of wine, cracking it over old Dad’s head. There had been blood all over the kitchen that night, and James had hidden under his bed till morning.
    “Fuck those assholes,” he said. “Let’s cruise out to the Crab Shack and look for snatch.”
    “Aw man, those chicks are skanky. I wouldn’t touch them with
your
dick.”
    “
Hey
.”
    “Come on, Slim. We can’t leave now. This is just getting good.” Josh sucked icy lemonade through his straw and watched the hostilities escalate between the antagonists in front of the coffee shop. The older man drew back his fist and drove it into his opponent’s jaw. “Woo-hoo!” hooted Josh.
    With a sick feeling in his belly, James pushed off the railing and started walking away. “I’m going,” he told his friend.
    “Yeow, he nailed him good,” chortled Josh. “Hey, where the fuck ya going? You can’t leave me.”
    “Then get your ass in gear,” James called over his shoulder.
    “Shit, man. I can’t believe you.”
    Josh caught up with him at the north entrance to the mall and followed him outside to the parking lot. “Next time we’re taking my ride, man. I don’t get how the hell you can just walk away from—”
    “Ssshh,” James shushed him and suddenly froze in his tracks. “Listen.”
    Josh halted beside him. “What?”
    “Hear that?”
    An old ’67 Mustang rumbled by in front of them. If it had a muffler, it was completely gutted.
    “What? That?” Josh pointed at the passing antique Ford.
    “No, you idiot. The bell.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “Sounds like it’s coming from Holy Cross Hill.”
    “But—”
    “Why the fuck is it ringing?”
    “Must be coming from some other church.”
    “There’s no other church in that direction. Just that one up the street from my house.”
    “So? What’s the big deal? A church bell’s ringing.”
    “But who’s ringing it? And why? Nobody’s used that place for over a year. Hell, it’s condemned. They’re supposed to tear it down soon.”
    “Maybe it’s your old lady,” Josh joked. “Had one too many and decided to play Quasimodo. You know, like in
The Hunchback of—”
    “Of course I know. I wrote that book report for you, jughead.”
    “Oh yeah. Huh.”
    “And my mother quit drinking.”
    “Lighten up. It was just a joke.”
    “Not a funny one.”
    Josh shrugged. “So, we’re going to see who’s ringing the motherfucker, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Probably some asshole kids with nothing better to do. Bet it’s driving your grandmother nuts.”
    “Yeah. Wouldn’t take much.”
    They started walking toward James’s car, a secondhand 1989 Honda Civic