Mr. Was by Pete Hautman

Author:Pete Hautman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 1996-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Cherry Bombs

After the movie ended, Andie made us sit in our seats until the popcorn throwers had left the theater. Scud just smiled and sat back in his seat.

“Who was the big guy?” I asked.

“That was Henry, the older brother. I don’t get along with them Gleasons so good.”

“They think Scud is stealing trade from them,” Andie said.

“You mean it was you they were throwing at?” I’d been thinking that all the popcorn throwing had something to do with me trying to buy that comic book with a 1993 quarter.

Scud explained, “They don’t like me ’cause I buy stuff and sell it to folks. Like I just drove up to Minneapolis and bought three cases of canned cranberries and four cases of canned pumpkin. On account of Thanksgiving coming up, you know? I got the berries for a nickel a can, and the pie pumpkin for four and a half cents. I can sell those cans door to door in Memory for a dime a can, make myself eight bucks, just like that! People buy from old lady Gleason, it cost ’em fourteen cents. You know? Those Gleasons, they just don’t like free trade.” He laughed. “They’ll be up to their ears in cranberries and pie pumpkin all the way till next fall.” It wasn’t hard to see why the Gleasons didn’t like him much.

Andie said, “Let’s go. They’re gone.”

We filed out of the theater and walked down the block toward the car.

“So is that how you make your money?” I asked.

“That and other stuff.”

“Scud’s a hustler,” Andie said.

“I’m actually a businessman. I do deliveries, all kinds of stuff.”

He opened the car door. From up the street came the sound of a revving engine. A beat-up pickup truck pulled away from the curb and raced toward us. As it passed, an arm flew out the window and hurled a beer bottle at us. Scud ducked, the bottle missed his head by inches, bounced off the roof of the Ford, and shattered on the sidewalk. The pickup continued down the street.

“They seem pretty serious,” I said after a moment.

Scud had his arms around Andie, holding her tight. I thought she looked uncomfortable. Scud’s face was hard and angry. “We’ll see who’s serious,” he said, climbing into the car. Andie and I got in, and we took off.

“You’re not going after them, are you?” Andie said.

Scud shifted gears, leaning forward over the wheel. “Scud?”

“I just want to follow them. I want to see something.”

“What’s to see?” Andie said. “Let’s just go home, Scud. Please?”

“We are going home. This is the way we go to go home.”

“Well, don’t drive so fast.”

“I’m not driving that fast. Besides, I want to show you something.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it.”

“You’ll like it.”

“No I won’t. Slow down.”

I listened to them argue as the speed of the car increased. The speedometer needle stopped at sixty, but we kept picking up speed, racing down the twisted, narrow highway toward Memory. I didn’t know what Scud had

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