Good Luck, Fatty by Maggie Bloom

Author:Maggie Bloom [Bloom, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: english eBooks
ISBN: 9780615719627
Google: 6wg9lgEACAAJ
Amazon: B009L78AQO
Publisher: ElkNewt Press
Published: 2012-10-01T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

There are three police cars stacked on our lawn, their light bars ablaze with blasts of blue and white, when Duncan and I arrive, which explains why I don’t notice the smashed picture window right off. What does draw my eye is the Royale, parked as normally as ever at the front of the driveway with its trunk caved in (I’m picturing baseball bats used, here), its bumper crumpled, and its taillights all but missing.

“Holy…” I whisper, alarmed by the war-zone look my home has assumed.

“Just remember,” Duncan tells me as we ease out of the van, repeating the mantra he’s hatched on the way over, “the authorities have things well in hand.”

I want to say, How do you know? But I bite my tongue.

As bad as the Royale looks from the back, it’s even worse from the front, which Duncan and I discover when we round the side of the car en route to the house.

I stop in my tracks and stare. “What does that say?” I wonder aloud (and mostly rhetorically). The Royale is bathed in graffiti so thick I can hardly make out the color of its hood: sun-bleached blue.

Duncan steers me by the shoulder toward the door, and when we get inside, Denise outright tackles me. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaims, hugging me so hard I stop breathing for a second. She smoothes my hair against my back and squeezes again. “I’m so glad…so glad you’re all right.”

Why wouldn’t I be all right?

Past the refrigerator is Orv, hands buried in his pockets, clenching his jaw and staring glassy-eyed into the living room, the source of unfamiliar cop voices. “Um…” I say, gently withdrawing from Denise’s embrace, “…what happened?”

Denise shrugs, twists her lips sideways. “A bunch of kids…well, uh…they chucked a rock through the front window.” As an afterthought, she adds, “And the car’s wrecked.”

I turn to Duncan. “You can go if you want,” I say. “There’s probably nothing you can do anyway.”

“Call your mother later,” he replies on his way out. “She’ll be worried.”

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