Witch by Christopher Pike

Author:Christopher Pike
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2022-10-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

RANDY Classick had followed the old women to a motel where they went inside. A couple of hours passed and it got dark and Randy got cold. He began to wonder what the hell he was doing. He really liked Amy, and he was in awe of Julia, but he couldn’t see how he was helping either of them by sitting in his truck and eating peanuts. Whenever he was bored, he ate. That was the reason he was as big as he was. School bored him. His job bored him. Even football bored him now. He doubted they were ever going to win a game with the idiot of a coach they had. So he ate.

Randy put another whole peanut into his mouth and spit out the shell on the floor of his truck. He made no bones about being a slob. If he enjoyed a meal, he belched, and he didn’t care if everybody heard it. But he didn’t consider himself crude or a slob. He had principles. For example, he always took a shower before he went out with a girl. He may not have been movie-star handsome, but he tried to look the best he could—within limits. He would never go on a diet for any girl. He could swear to that. Once while eating at a fast-food joint, a girl from school suggested that one shake was enough for him. The nerve. He took her advice. He poured his second shake over her head and just drank the first. Yeah, he was flexible when it came to girls. As long as they didn’t tell him what to do.

He was worried about Scott, though. He liked Scott. The dude could make him laugh. He was also smart. Randy appreciated intelligence. If Scott hadn’t got shot in the head, Randy would have laid odds he would’ve become another Steven Spielberg or George Lucas. But Randy didn’t want to bet on Scott’s chances now. He’d seen Scott in intensive care while he’d been shadowing those old women. Randy had seen mannequins that looked healthier.

Hey, God, if my buddy’s going to die, let him die tonight. I can’t work at that place knowing he’s rotting in intensive care.

Randy dropped his bag of peanuts and slid down in the seat to hide. He peeked out the side window. The old women were coming out of the motel, six of them now, led by that skeleton-faced aunt of Julia’s. She looked like a cardboard figure left over from a Halloween display. He was sure they were members of a Satanic cult. He bet they killed little puppies and burned Bibles. Randy had never read the Bible himself, but he did like dogs.

He watched as the women piled into their old station wagon and pulled out of the parking lot. Randy knew something about following people. He’d read a lot of spy novels and knew he didn’t have to keep them in sight at all times, just as long as he saw where they turned.

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