Little Boy Blue Read Online Free PDF

assistant superintendent of the Home came to the store, thanked the
manager for not calling the police, and drove the boys back to the cottage. He
walked them to the housemother’s open door. She was in her chair, and a
boy was in the doorway, but when she saw the new arrivals she told the boy to
step out and close the door. The assistant superintendent also left.
    The culprits stared down at their shoetops
while the woman, immobile as a statue except for her breathing, glared at them
with contempt. Alex’s panic in the store and worry during the silent ride
back slowly dissolved in resentment. He hadn’t stolen anything. This was
persecution. Instead of nervous fear he had anger, and instead of looking down
in guilt he met her eyes, until it was she who looked away.
    Finally she spoke: “Well, let’s
hear what you’ve got to say.”
    Neither one answered. Sammy moved his feet
and kept looking down. Alex stared at her. The challenge was so open that she
had to meet it.
    “Sneak thieves… dirty little
sneaks. You steal small things now and get off light, you’ll steal bigger things later.” Her voice rose with the fervor
of her simplistic convictions. “Believe me, I’m going to teach you… both of you.” But her eyes were on
Alex. She rose from her chair and waddled, shaking with tension, to a cluttered
table, where she picked up a paddle. It was like a table tennis paddle, except
the handle was extended, and it had holes the size of quarters in it.
“Five swats apiece,” she adjudged. “Drop your pants,
Alex.”
    Alex’s breath was coming faster, and
the fever was rising in his brain. “No,” he said, tears of fury
starting. “You’re not going to hit me with that.”
    The intensity froze her, but just
momentarily. She was a determined woman, and her authority was the focus
of her life. Rebellion was sacrilege; she flushed under layers of face powder.
    “Don’t try that with me,”
she said. “Take your pants down and bend over.” She looked above
him; he could smell the decay beneath the scent of flowers. Her bulk was
intimidating, but his brain was frozen on refusal to submit to injustice. He felt
smothered. Oh, God, I wish my father— The thought
was unfinished as tears flowed.
    “You’re the smart one.
Sammy’s a follower. I’m going to teach you who’s boss.”
    She reached for him with a liver-spotted hand
with purple fingernails. At her touch he leaped forward, butting her with
his head, pushing and clawing but not using his fists. The charge surprised
her, driving her back a pace.
    “Oh you… little bastard,”
she said, fending him off and reaching for his hair. As she forced his head
away, he grabbed the top of her dress. The cloth ripped away, exposing the
fish-white flab above her slip. She dropped the paddle and pulled the cloth up
to cover herself.
    Alex stepped back, at bay. Then he stopped
crying, for Thelma Cavendish had tears in her eyes too. It was unbelievable.
    “You’ll get it now,” she
said, her voice shrill . “Now you’re in
real trouble. You’re going to reform school for that.”
    Alex was no longer furious. Tears started
again, but they were from the ache. It was all wrong. He wanted to tell her the
whole thing was a mistake. He was even ready to blame Sammy, something he
wouldn’t have done a minute earlier. “Mrs. Cavendish…
I’m sorry, but…”
    “Go to your room while I have the
superintendent call the police. We don’t have a place for heathens like
you.”
    Alex’s heart pounded with fear, and he
stumbled out—Thelma Cavendish following him to the door—and down
the hallway to his room. Nobody was there. He stood trembling in the middle of
the room.
    Sammy came in, staring at him. Their
relationship had changed. Sammy was afraid of him. Anyone who would do what
he’d done— attack Mrs. Cavendish—was capable of anything.
    Alex conjured up an image of Juvenile Hall,
one based on movies with the Dead End Kids. He had no reason to doubt that