The Ambidextrist by Peter Rock

The Ambidextrist by Peter Rock

Author:Peter Rock
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940436371
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2016-05-05T00:00:00+00:00


TWELVE

TURNCOAT

Days pass. The lines of Terrell’s tattoo are not solid, the edges a little unclear. It’s all healed now, the scabs scratched off and the new skin grown over. The cross of the T isn’t quite straight, as if it might fall off, but it’s not going anywhere—it’s definitely permanent. It rises up, wavering and sad, like it’s sunken underwater.

Terrell lets loose the waistband of his shorts, lets his shirt fall down again as the light changes and he crosses the street. He walks north, up Broad; glass bottles stand on the sidewalk, each holding forty ounces of air, just waiting to be broken and mixed with the glass that is elsewhere, catching the sun. He’s promised Ruth he’d stay out of this neighborhood. Across the street, two policemen wearing latex gloves handcuff a woman as she argues with them. Trash leans against cars—old boxsprings, shopping carts, stacks of newspapers. Some of the cars, missing doors, missing hoods and trunks, rest straight on their axles. The windows of one has clear plastic duct-taped across them; the plastic bulges out, then in, as if someone is breathing inside.

Up ahead, three girls try to stay in the space cut by a jumprope; they spin and hop, clapping their hands, as two of their friends work the rope, all five of them chanting about Cinderella kissing a snake.

“Zina!” Terrell says. She’s Swan’s sister, her head shaved almost bald so she looks like a boy, a younger version of her brother. She leaps sideways, beyond the rope’s reach, and steps closer.

“You seen Swan?” he says.

“Eric?” Zina wears a yellow dress with elastic all around the body, running shoes that used to be Swan’s. A sticker on her dress says I HUGGED A CLOWN TODAY.

“He around?” Terrell says.

“No,” she says. “Saw him at breakfast.” Her feet twitch along the pavement, her mouth whispers numbers; behind her, the rope slaps down, whistles around, exerting its pull.

“All right,” he says, and she’s gone.

He walks out of the playground, past Temple and takes a right on Diamond. It’s hot; he stays close to the buildings, inside the stripe of shadow. Boys his own age are selling on corners, whistling signals back and forth. He’s glad he doesn’t live up here, like Swan and Darnay, though he might feel tougher if he did. People scream inside a house—voices barking, railing out windows, then muffled by walls, settling behind him. He tries to walk like he knows where he’s going, what he’s doing; he tries to make his face look bored. He wonders where Swan is now, and Darnay and John. Maybe they’re down by the river, planning his test, or maybe Darnay has changed the order again. Terrell is tired of waiting; he hopes it comes soon.

Thirty feet away, he sees her. He’s lucky to find her on the stoop, since he didn’t want to knock on her door, make his searching obvious. Closer, he sees her hair is all caught up in red rubber bands, her head covered in clear plastic balls.



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