As he
neared it, he heard the rumble of Marci's father's thick voice and his
heart began to pound in his chest.
He cracked the door and put his face in the gap, looking at the two men
there: Mr. Davenport, the vice principal, with his gray hair growing out
his large ears and cavernous nostrils, sitting behind his desk, looking
awkwardly at Marci's father, eyes bugged and bagged and bloodshot, face
turned to the ground, looking like a different man, the picture of worry
and loss.
Mr. Davenport saw him and crooked a finger at him, looking stern and
stony. Alan was sure, then, that Marci'd told it all to her father,
who'd told it all to Mr. Davenport, who would tell the world, and
suddenly he was jealous of his secret, couldn't bear to have it
revealed, couldn't bear the thought of men coming to the mountain to
catalogue it for the subject index at the library, to study him and take
him apart.
And he was... afraid. Not of what they'd all do to him. What Davey would
do to them. He knew, suddenly, that Davey would not abide their secrets
being disclosed.
He forced himself forward, his feet dragging like millstones, and stood
between the two men, hands in his pockets, nervously twining at his
underwear.
"Alan," Marci's father croaked. Mr. Davenport held up a hand to silence
him.
"Alan," Mr. Davenport said. "Have you seen Marci?"
Alan had been prepared to deny everything, call Marci a liar, betray her
as she'd betrayed him, make it her word against his.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179