Nightrunners Read Online Free PDF

dick in her? What was the deal?
    The routine got to be daily.
    She began to think maybe her mother just liked smelling her fingers afterward.
    That and looking at her religious crap were her only pastimes. Had the shit all over the house. A living room full of tiny Blessed Mother shrines and crosses. And in the kitchen, over the sink, so she could watch it while she did the dishes, there was a five-dollar plastic Jesus with batteries and a lightbulb inside. Touch the switch—cleverly located in the statue's side wound—and J.C.'s eyes glowed like a cat in the dark.
    And there was that stupid 700 Club blaring all the time. Lots of preachers in expensive suits with hair sprayed down hard enough to look like concrete curbing.
    It was enough to drive a madman sane.
    Some life.
    Then she met Jimmy. Ugly, pimple-faced Jimmy.
    But he was nice and interested in marrying her, could take her away from the shrines and the 700 Club.
    She met him one day after school. He was sitting on the hood of an old battered white Ford. When she walked by he yelled, "Hey," and she stopped.
    He climbed down off the hood of the car, went over to her.
    "Hey, I'm Jimmy. What's your name?"
    "Why do you need to know, taking a survey?"
    "'Cause I wanta."
    "Why?"
    "I like the way you look."
    "No kidding, so do a lot of other guys."
    "Yeah, I bet."
    "Really?"
    "Sure. You say so, I believe it. Besides, look at you."
    "That some kind of crack?"
    "Naw, no way. I mean, look at you. You look good. Lots of guys would like the way you look, just like me. I mean, you could probably have any guy you want."
    "Yeah, yeah, maybe I could."
    "You could."
    "Yeah, okay, I could."
    "Now, will you tell me your name?"
    "I guess. . . Angela."
    "Nice name."
    "Yeah, well, Jimmy isn't so hot. I had a hamster named Jimmy. My mother killed it with a broom."
    "So it's not a good name. Do I look like a hamster to you?"
    "A little."
    He smiled. "Carry your books, Angela?"
    "I guess."
    He put her books under his arm and started walking toward the Ford. "I'll give you a lift.
    Where you going?"
    She thought a moment. "Nowhere," she said, and meant it.
    At first he was something to fill the hours, someone to spend time with after school. And each day, after she left him, and after her mother made with the exploration through the country of her privates, she would find herself looking forward to the night, to when he came to her window. He'd sneak up the back alley and scratch on the screen and they'd talk, sometimes until way into the morning. Talk was all they did, nothing more. She never even unlatched the screen.
    Jimmy never tried any funny business with her, just told her he loved her and wanted to marry her.
    It was an idea, she told him, but he didn't have a job. What were they going to live on?
    He admitted it was a problem.
    Shortly thereafter, he dropped out of school and got a janitor job at the Galveston courthouse. Didn't pay much, but it was something.
    Each week he brought her the bulk of his earnings, and now she was unlocking the screen, taking the money, holding his hand, and leaning forward to take his lips.
    Things were looking good for Angela baby, and that should have been a clue.
    Because suddenly, it was shit-brick time again.
    Yep, she could count on it. Soon as she started having a pretty good time and things started looking up, the shit-bricks would fall.
    Angela's feeling good. Look out! Here comes the shit-bricks.
    Angela's luck looks like it's going to change, and watch it! Because here comes a whole wall of tumbling shit-bricks, right down on top of her little Puerto Rican head.
    This time was no exception.
    The first shit-brick to fall was not the last, not by any means, but it was certainly a doozy.
    Hit right smack on the head of her dream.
    Jimmy got buddies, and suddenly he was a tough guy. Started seeing her less, and when he did come around he'd say: "I'm not so sure about this marriage stuff. How do I know you're going to be a good piece of ass? I