The Riverman (The Riverman Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page A

mine.
    “Hey,” I said to Fiona. I pinched at my earlobe, shielding the zit with my wrist and the stain with my arm. “Can we talk for a sec?”
    Fiona nodded it’s cool to Fay-Renee, who shrugged and stepped back into the swell.
    “What’s up?” Fiona asked.
    “Tell me about the Riverman,” I said.
    I might as well have admitted to torching her house. Her reaction isn’t easy to describe. It was almost like watching a sand castle struck by a wave.
    “He found me?” she asked as she braced herself against the lockers and closed her eyes.
    “What?”
    “Are you him, or did he send you to get information on me?” Her arms fell limp. Her head fell to the side.
    “Huh?”
    “I’m so sorry.” She opened her eyes. There was a tiny swirl of rage in them, but mostly it was sadness. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. But I guess it had to come to this. If he can’t find me there, then he finds me here.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pulled the handkerchief from my pocket. “This was buried behind my house.”
    The rage bloomed into a tornado, and she snatched the handkerchief and hissed, “What the heck are you thinking?” She didn’t have pockets, so she stuffed the handkerchief down the front of her shirt and shouldered past me.
    Chasing her, I said, “I should be asking you that. I don’t know if this is a prank or you’re just plain nuts, but—”
    Before I could finish my thought, Fiona had a hand on my mouth and she was pushing me against the lockers and whispering to me, “Don’t ever show that to anyone. Understand? People will suffer. Hundreds of people. Thousands.”
    Over her shoulder, I saw that Charlie was watching us. He was making kissy-faces at me, puckering his lips so much that you could hear a wet squeak over the buzz of the crowd. I pushed Fiona’s hand away and said, “Whatever. Forget I even brought it up.”
    Bulling into the throng of my classmates, I headed to first period.
    *   *   *
    When I was embarrassed, confused, or simply lonely, I would take long, hot showers. I would sit in the tub and lean forward and let the water massage my neck and scalp. I wouldn’t close my eyes. I liked to watch the water cascade off my head.
    That night I showered until the hot water ran out. When I was finished, I put on my pajamas and headed to the living room to watch TV. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even want to think.
    On my way through the dining room, my dad handed me a coffee can overflowing with potato peels, eggshells, and the ends of carrots and celery. “A man’s work is never done,” he said.
    “Crap.”
    “Hey there now. We don’t pay you for your witty commentary.” He took a side-sip from his beer and cocked his chin. “When I was your age—”
    “You probably had to carry a hundred pounds of compost ten miles down the road every night.”
    “Forget that.” He laughed. “No one composted back then. Besides, my parents hired people to do everything for us. That’s why I hire you.”
    As far as chores go, taking the compost out was fairly painless, and combined with doing the dishes and dragging the trash cans to the corner, it was worth the five dollars of allowance each week. Still, on cold nights, with wet hair, it could be downright painful.
    “Hilarious,” I groaned, and my dad gave me a pat on the shoulder and escaped to the living room.
    I slipped into a jacket and a pair of mud shoes and took the route through the garage to the backyard. It was blustery, and I could smell burning wood in the air. Fireplace season had started, a clear indication that there was no looking back. It was only going to get colder.
    The compost heap was out by the swamp, not far from Frog Rock. As I emptied the can, I looked over to the spot where I had dug up the metal box the night before. Out of the darkness a figure emerged.
    Fiona.
    “You called me nuts,” she said.
    I stepped away from her. “You made me look like an idiot today,