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The Roache home was a modest bungalow in a slightly shabby part of town. The house could have used a coat of paint, but the place was otherwise neat. Someone had put a pot of rust-colored mums on the front step, adding a splash of fall color to the picture.
A
A small dog yapped its way through the house, followed by Renee Roache. Cody’s mother was small and weedy with limp brown hair and a pale complexion. She worked days as a waitress at a diner near the college where the pace was hectic and the tips pathetic. Her husband was a maintenance man who worked nights at Mercy General.
“Mrs. Roache, I hope I’m not imposing,” A
Renee Roache looked perplexed, as did the dog at her feet, a fat brown-and-white terrier, tipping its head quizzically from one side to the other. “That’s beyond the call of duty, isn’t it? It’s just a stomach bug.”
It was A
“What happened yesterday? Did something happen at school?”
“Didn’t Principal Garnett’s office call you?”
“Not that I know of. I ran out to get something for Cody’s stomach this morning. Maybe they called then. We don’t have an answering machine.”
“Oh,” A
“What happened?” Renee asked, getting anxious.
A
They went into the Roaches’ tiny living room where the television was playing a Star Trek rerun. A
Di
A
“Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked, her voice as thin as she was. “He came ru
“Did he seem upset?”
“Well, yeah, but… He’s a ten-year-old boy. I thought he was upset about having the accident. He gets picked on a lot, you know.”
That was true. In the jungle that was childhood, Cody Roache was well down in the pecking order. Children could be cruel, their meaner instincts yet to be padded over by the layers of subterfuge, dishonesty, and social niceties adults accumulated over the years. And the kids who were a little different, a little slower, not as hip, took the brunt of it.
Cody was small and homely and a little odd. He didn’t really have friends, A
“He was sick all night,” his mother said. “And still this morning. He stayed in bed all day. I can’t get him to eat anything.”
“Would it be all right with you if I spoke with Cody?” she asked. “I’ve had some training…”
She felt like a fraud saying it. She was no more a child psychologist than the man in the moon. But for the time being, she was the closest thing these kids had.
Renee Roache led the way down the short hall to a bedroom with Star Wars stickers all over the door, knocked once, and cracked the door open.
“Cody? You have a visitor. Miss Navarre is here.”
Not a sound came from inside the room.
Renee opened the door and went in. A
Cody’s mother sat down on the edge of the bed, turned on the lamp, and peeled the blankets back, exposing the boy’s head. He played dead, squeezing his eyes shut a little too hard.
“Cody, why didn’t you tell me what happened yesterday?” his mother asked.
“Nothing happened,” he said.
One eye cracked open. His mother handed him his glasses, newly taped together with adhesive tape. He sat up and put them on, blinking at the light.
“Hi, Cody,” A
He rubbed his nose and scrunched his shoulders up around his ears, then pulled his knees up to his chest and bound them there tightly with his arms.
“Your mom tells me you’ve been really sick.”
She could see the little wheels spi
“I know what happened in the park yesterday,” A
“Why didn’t you tell me, Cody?” his mother asked again, her tone edged with hurt.
Cody looked at her, looked at A
“Mrs. Roache,” A
Renee Roache looked uncertain, but she got up and left the room just the same. A
“That must have been pretty scary finding that body like that. What a terrible thing to see. I think I would have run away if I had come across that like you did. I would have run straight home.”
She could see him relax the slightest bit. If she said she would have run away, then maybe it wasn’t so bad or embarrassing that he had run away.
“I ran away,” he confessed in a small voice.
“I don’t blame you. I think I would have gotten sick. I think a lot of people would have.”
“Did Tommy get sick?”
“He was pretty upset.”
He thought about that for a minute. “I bet De
“I don’t know,” A
Cody shook his head, his gaze sliding away from her, his mouth turning down at the corners. It wasn’t the expression that would have accompanied hero worship, which she might have expected. It didn’t say De
“Why do you think that, Cody?”
He gave half a shrug.
She let it go for the moment. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about what happened yesterday?”
He was thinking about it. He looked down at his bare feet, then pushed his glasses up on his nose.
“We talked about it in class this morning,” A