Christine by Stephen King

Author:Stephen King
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Viking Press
Published: 1983-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

He let himself into Will's office, where the only sound was the thump of the time clock bolted on the wall turning up fresh minutes. He dialled the Cabots' number from memory but miscued twice because his fingers were trembling so badly.

Leigh herself answered, her voice sounding sleepy.

"Arnie?"

"I have to talk to you, Leigh. I have to see you."

"Arnie, it's almost ten o'clock. I just got out of the shower and into bed . . . I was almost asleep . . ."

"Please," he said, and shut his eyes.

"Tomorrow," she said. "It can't be tonight, my folks wouldn't let me out so late—"

"It's only ten. And it's Friday."

"They really don't want me to see so much of you, Arnie. They liked you at first, and my dad still does . . . but they both think you've gotten a little spooky." There was a long, long pause at Leigh's end. "I think you have, too," she said finally.

"Does that mean you don't want to see me anymore?" he asked dully. His stomach hurt, his back hurt, everything hurt.

"No." Now the faintest reproach crept into her voice. "I was kind of getting the idea that you didn't want to see me . . . not at school, and nights you're always down there at the garage. Working on your car."

"That's all done," he said. And then, with a monstrous effort: "It's the car I want to—oww, goddammit!" He grabbed at his back, where there had been another huge bolt of pain, and got only a handful of back brace.

"Arnie?" She was alarmed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I had a twinge in my back."

"What were you going to say?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "We'll drive over to Baskin-Robbins and have an ice cream and maybe do some Christmas shopping and have some supper and I'll have you home by seven. And I won't be weird. I promise."

She laughed a little, and Arnie felt a great, sweeping relief. It was like balm. "You dummy."

"Does that mean okay?"

"Yes, it means okay." Leigh paused and then said softly, "I said my parents didn't want me to see so much of you. I didn't say I wanted that."

"Thanks," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Thanks for that."

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

Christine. I want to talk to you about her—and about my dreams. And about why I look like hell. And why I always want to listen to WDIL now, and about what I did that night after everyone was gone . . . the night I hurt my back. Oh Leigh I want—

Another slash of pain up his back like cat's claws.

"I think we just talked about it," he said.

"Oh." A slight, warm pause. "Good."

"Leigh?"

"Umm."

"There'll be more time now. I promise. All the time you want." And thought: Because now, with Dennis in the hospital, you're all that's left, all that's left between me . . . me and . . .

"That's good," Leigh said.

"I love you."

"Goodbye, Arnie."

Say it back! he wanted to shout suddenly.

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