"Yeah?"
"It was the 'Funeral March'! Played backwards!"
"Which 'Funeral March'?"
"Which! Jim, Chopin only wrote one tune! The 'Funeral March'!"
"But why played backward?"
"Mr. Cooger was marching away from the grave, not toward it, wasn't he, getting younger, smaller, instead of older and dropping dead?"
"Willy, you're terrific!"
"Sure, but--" Will stiffened. "He's there. The window, again. Wave at him. So long! Now, walk and whistle something. Not Chopin, for gosh sakes--"
Jim waved. Will waved. Both whistled, "Oh, Susanna."
The shadow gestured small in the high window.
The boys hurried off down the street.
Chapter 20
TWO SUPPERS were waiting in two houses.
One parent yelled at Jim, two parents yelled at Will.
Both were sent hungry upstairs.
It started at seven o'clock. It was done by seven-three.
Doors slammed. Locks clacked.
Clocks ticked.
Will stood by the door. The telephone was locked away outside. And even if he called, Miss Foley wouldn't answer. By now she'd be gone beyond town ... good grief! Anyway, what could he say? Miss Foley, that nephew's no nephew? That boy's no boy? Wouldn't she laugh? She would. For the nephew was a nephew, the boy was a boy, or seemed such.
He turned to the window. Jim, across the way, stood facing the same dilemma, in his room. Both struggled. It was too early to raise the windows and stage-whisper to each other. Parents below were busy growing crystal-radio peach fuzz in their ears, alert.
The boys threw themselves on their separate beds in their separate houses, probed mattresses for chocolate chunks put away against the lean years, and ate moodily.
Clocks ticked.
Nine. Nine-thirty. Ten.
The knob rattled, softly, as Dad unlocked the door.
Dad! thought Will. Come in! We got to talk!
But Dad chewed his breath in the hall. Only his confusion, his always puzzled, half-bewildered face could be felt beyond the door.
He won't come in, thought Will. Walk around, talk around, back off from a thing, yes. But come sit, listen? When had he, when would he, ever?
"Will ...?"
Will quickened.
"Will ..." said Dad, "... be careful."