Protect
her. Protect her father and the school and the town from what Davey
would do.
Now he whipped his head toward Marci's father, suddenly understanding.
"No," he said. "Not all week! Is she all right?"
Marci's father sobbed, a sound Alan had never heard an adult make.
And it came tumbling out. No one had seen Marci since Sunday night. Her
presumed whereabouts had moved from a friend's place to Alan's place to
runaway to fallen in a lake to hit by a car and motionless in a ditch,
and if Alan hadn't seen her --
"I haven't," Alan said. "Not since the weekend. Sunday morning. She said
she was going home."
Another new sound, the sound of an adult crying. Marci's father, and his
sobs made his chest shake and Mr. Davenport awkwardly came from behind
his desk and set a box of kleenexes on the hard bench beside him.
Alan caught Mr. Davenport's eye and the vice principal made a shoo and
pointed at the door.
#
Alan didn't bother going back to class. He went straight to the golems'
cave, straight to where he knew Davey would be -- must be -- hiding, and
found him there, playing with the bones that lined the walls.
"Where is she?" Alan said, after he'd taken hold of Davey's hair and,
without fanfare, smashed his face into the cold stone floor hard enough
to break his nose. Alan twisted his wrists behind his back and when he
tried to get up, Alan kicked his legs out from under him, wrenching his
arms in their sockets.
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