Do Not Deny Me by Jean Thompson

Author:Jean Thompson [Thompson, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781416595632
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2009-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

Escape

Hurley eased the window up and tried the screen. The screen was inclined to stick. He was pleased to have remembered this. It was a gift from his brain, like a coupon for half-price dry cleaning. Even with the screen all the way up, it would be a tight squeeze. One side balked and he had to risk a quick blow with the bottom of his fist. It made the dull noise of a hammer landing on meat. Hurley held his breath and listened but heard only his own body’s ticking. He tried the screen again and it slid open.

A beautiful square of black night and moving air and cricket noise.

Hurley bent down and grasped the bulky metal complications of that thing that thing that was used to get out of high windows. It had two big hooks you fastened over the windowsill, then you let the rest of it drop down, piece by piece by piece. It made a racket, a jangly noise. He hoped it couldn’t be heard from inside. He peered out the window at it. That thing that thing ladder! The streetlight gilded each step, a path for him to follow.

He swung one leg over the windowsill, wiggled around until his foot found the first step. Then, supporting his weight with his good hand, he reached out with the other foot. Nothing to it. Practically his old self. Face to the wall, he lowered himself to the next step. The ladder swayed and knocked him against the wall. One side of him didn’t work right, like the screen. No matter; he took it slow and steady, he wasn’t about to make some foolish mistake. And anyway, there was this amazing night to pay attention to. He hadn’t been out at night since since since . . .

Crickets and black perfume and here was a bird of some sort making its solitary, liquid noise. What kind of bird? He didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d ever known.

Then he slipped and scraped his good side and dangled there like a giant crippled spider. He remembered every swear word in creation and silently turned them all loose. He was still too high up to let himself go, unless he wanted to smash up what was left of his pudding head. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Go ahead and finish the job.

Just as the effort of hanging on was making his chest squeeze and the sweat slide under his clothes, he managed a new toehold. Inch by inch by inch, he brought himself around, got his legs underneath him again.

In this way he reached the end of the ladder. Just the smallest hop to the ground. He let go, fought for his balance, lost it and toppled over. When he managed to right himself, Claudine had come out of the back door and was watching him.

“Cute,” she said. “One of your better stunts. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Fire drill.”

“What? Say it again.”

“Fire drill.” Hurley’s head drooped. His eyes got teary.

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