b199e53d35b909f9eee5ba25eb9500a4 by Owner

Author:Owner [Owner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hewlett-Packard

Chapter 17

The Two Followers

“What on earth did ol’ Schumacher get himself into?” Buddy Phillips questioned aloud, with a special emphasis on the German pronunciation of Adam’s name, as he studied the whole scene from the corner up on Harvest Avenue.

Freddy Alexander smirked with his usual lopsided smile. “A crooked smile for a sleazy crook,” Adam would have said. Freddy shook his head. “I can’t believe that guy has gotten in trouble with the law. And him, the biggest boy scout in Middletown.”

“What do you think he did?” Buddy asked as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the steering wheel of his old beat up rust-bucket.

As another police car went past, Freddy slumped farther down in the seat. From his vantage point, he could barely see through the windshield. “We followed the hero of Middletown High School all the way to this little suburb. Why? This ain’t the beach or the mountains. It’s no-where USA, Buddy.”

Buddy anxiously tapped his fingers on the wooden steering wheel. “I wanted to watch his face when he realizes he lost his precious Sergeant-paper.”

Freddy yawned and burped. “What ya mean ‘watch’ Buddy-boy? We can’t even see him from here?” He doubled up his fist and pounded his chest. “We slept in the car, and I got cramps in my legs. All for this big-man-at-school? Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

“I saw a little diner up there on Wilmington Pike,” Buddy said as his stomach growled, too. “But, how are we going to keep him in our sights?”

“Well,” Freddy yawned again, “we can watch his truck. If that big farm clunker is still filling up that driveway, Schumacher won’t be far away.”

“Mom gave me some money,” Buddy said as he fished in his jeans pocket. “You’d better have your own.”

Freddy sat up a little taller. “Don’t you worry about me. I always have money.”

“Yeah,” Buddy blistered back. “Yours or some bucks you lifted off somebody else?”

“Hey,” Freddy shot back. “It wasn’t my idea to steal that Christ Child carving last Christmas. That was all you.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Buddy growled.

“You always twist your memory to make the story come out to your advantage.”

“I remember things as they happened, not how I want them to be,” Buddy bellowed as the veins in his neck bulged.

“You just think if you yell loud enough everyone will agree with you,” Freddy sniped back.

“If you really want me to yell,” Buddy hissed out as his volume elevated again, “I can shout with the best of them.”

“Loud doesn’t make right,” Freddy said as he folded his arms across his chest and slunk down again in the passenger seat.

“We’ll go find some doughnuts or something,” Buddy relented. “Maybe you’ll be a little more agreeable.”

“Me?” Freddy gasped. “I’m not the demanding, grumpy one.”

“Oh, shut up, Freddy,” Buddy grumbled as he put the car in gear and turned around. “You might as well give up. You know I’ll win.” He turned the car around, headed back up to the highway and turned left toward the little shops in Beavertown.

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