Things Could Be Worse by Virginia DeMarce

Author:Virginia DeMarce [DeMarce, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Denise Beasley braked her bike. Minnie Hugelmair, following closely, did the same.

“Boy, if the two of you don’t look like a little puddle of misery.”

Carly looked up, her face smeared with tears and—upon a closer look—little bits of charcoal gray acrylic fuzz from Anthony’s sweater.

“What the hell is going on?”

Carly sniffled. Anthony said they had to tell somebody. Denise and Minnie were somebody.

“Go home, you two,” Denise admonished. “I have to think about this a bit. At least school’s out for Easter break, so....”

“I ought to be thinking clearer,” Denise said. “You know I ought to.”

“You’ve got an excuse. You’re still sort of reeling from your dad getting killed last month. Which isn’t an excuse that Carly and Anthony have.” Gerry Stone shook his head.

“They’ve got to do something. It’s not going to go away. Maybe it could have earlier, if Carly hadn’t been too chicken to go to Doc Adams. But she’s left it too long, now. Somebody’s going to have to cope. Why didn’t Anthony have the sense to use something?”

“I’d be surprised if he’d had the birds and bees talk, beyond what we get in health class in school. His dad’s not as practical as mine. Sort of disconnected from the real world.”

“We’ve still got to come up with something. I wish to hell they’d told someone else.”

“We could talk to Dad and Magda. If they were here.”

“Yeah. To Dad, too, if that goon hadn’t axed him.” Denise stared morosely at her toes. “ ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.’ Dad used to say that. I don’t think Mom would have any sympathy for them, right now. She’s taking things pretty hard, down underneath.”

“The first thing we’ve got to do is figure some way to get Carly out of sight as soon as school’s out. It’s still fairly cool. She can wear sweatshirts up till then. She’s got that tall and skinny build, like her mom.”

“Let me think a bit,” Gerry said. “Maybe Pastor Kastenmayer will have an idea.”

He did.

“It’s a temporary fix,” Minnie said. “Sending Carly out to spend the summer in the country with her dad where he’s working now. She says that April’s suspicious that something’s going on.”

“If you ask me, April will be so glad she doesn’t have to spend her whole summer babysitting a teenager that she’ll let it go.”

“What about when she has to start school again in the fall?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Denise said. “My dad used to tell this story.” She stopped.

“Story,” Gerry prodded. “Your Dad.”

“About a guy, a stable hand, I think, back in the middle ages who offended some high muck-a-muck, who was going to chop his head off. Not clean, but with all sorts of fancy and painful tortures associated with the process. But the man said that if they gave him a year, he could teach the caliph’s horse to sing. That was what the muck-a-muck was called, the caliph.”

“Arabian Nights,” Gerry said. “Probably.”

“Dunno. Never heard of them.”

“Probably.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. Anyway, another stable hand asked him what the point was.

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