Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town 2)

rpose, or maybe something went wrong. Fact is, he wound up in a wine press anyway, got run over by a steam-roller carousel and's so crazy now he doesn't even know us! Ain't that enough to scare the Jesus out of you, Jim? Why, maybe even Mr. Crosetti--"

"Mr. Crosetti's on vacation."

"Maybe yes, maybe no. There's his shop. There's the sign: CLOSED ON ACCOUNT OF ILLNESS. What kind of illness, Jim? He eat too much candy out at the show? He get seasick on everybody's favorite ride?"

"Cut it, Will."

"No, sir, I won't cut it. Sure, sure, the merry-go-round sounds keen. You think I like being thirteen all the time? Not me! But for cri-yi, Jim, face it, you don't really want to be twenty!"

"What else we talked about all summer?"

"Talk, sure. But throwing yourself head first in that taffy machine and getting your bones pulled long, Jim, you wouldn't know what to do with your bones then!"

"I'd know," said Jim, in the night. "I'd know."

"Sure. You'd just go away and leave me here, Jim."

"Why," protested the other, "I wouldn't leave you, Will. We'd be together."

"Together? You two feet taller and going around feeling your leg-and-arm-bones? You looking down at me, Jim, and what'd we talk about, me with my pockets full of kite-string and marbles and frog-eyes, and you with clean nice and empty pockets and making fun, is that what we'd talk, and you able to run faster and ditch me--"

"I'd never ditch you, Will--"

"Ditch me in a minute. Well, go on, Jim, just go on leave me because I got my pocket knife and there's nothing wrong with me sitting under a tree playing mumblety-peg while you get yourself plain crazy with the heat of all those horses racing around, but thank God they're not racing any more--"

"And it's your fault!" cried Jim. He stopped.

Will stiffened and made fists. "You mean I should've let young mean-and-terrible get old mean-and-terrible enough to chew our heads off? Just let him ride around and hock his spit in our eye? and maybe you with him, waving good-bye, going around again, waving so long! and all I got to do is wave back, Jim, that what you mean?"

"Sh," said Jim. "Like you say, it's too late. The carousel's broke--"

"And when it's fixed, they ride old horrible Cooger back, make him young enough so he can speak and remember our names, and then they come like cannibals after us, or just me, if you want to get in good with them and go tell them my name and where I live--"

"I wouldn't do that, Will." Jim touched him.

"Oh, Jim, Jim, you do see, don't you? Everything in its time, like the preacher said only last month, everything one by one, not two by two, will you remember?"

"Everything," said Jim, "in its time ..."

And then they heard voices from the police station. In one of the rooms to the right of the entrance, a woman was talking now, and men were talking.

Will nodded to Jim and they ran quietly over to pick their way through bushes and look into the room.

There sat Miss Foley. There sat Will's father.

"I don't understand," said Miss Foley. "To think Will and Jim would break in my house, steal, run off--"

"You saw their faces?" asked Mr. Halloway.

"When I screamed, they looked back under the light."

She's not mentioning the nephew, thought Will. And she won't, of course.

You see, Jim, he wanted to shout, it was a trap! The nephew waited for us to come prowling. He wanted to get us in so much trouble, no matter what we said to anybody, police, parents, that nobody'd listen to us about carnivals, late hours, merry-go-rounds, because our word'd be no good!

"I don't want to prosecute," said Miss Foley. "But if they are innocent, where are the boys?"

"Here!" someone cried.