Cemetery Street - John Zunski (good novels to read in english .txt) 📗

running hand in hand inside a cave. Water trickled from the cave's wall’s. Rats squealed as we ran past. Suddenly, the walls trembled. A rumbling light chased us.
In another, the kitchen door slammed. My mother’s voice raced up the stairs. The bedroom door muffled her words. Her voice and footfalls climbed the stairs. I don’t want to deal with this, I thought pulling the blankets over my head. “Go away, go away,” I pleaded to my blankets. The door to my bedroom was thrown open and her eyes sliced through my blanket. Fire truck sirens drowned her shouts.
Fire trucks did wake me. I sat up trying to sort dream from reality. The reflections of flashing red lights filled my room. Sirens raced up Main Street past Fernwood. I bolted from bed and glimpsed a fire truck racing by. I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

I stood at the bottom of the Ortolan’s back steps, surprised how high their deck seemed. One by one I took the steps, my heart raced. I knocked on the sliding door. “It’s open,” Shannie’s voice rang.
“Hey Bug,” I cried.
“Bring your birthday suit?” she called from her bedroom.
I was at a loss for words.
"Cat got your tongue?” she asked emerging from her bedroom.
“Something like that,” I said. I was disappointed, I was hoping she’d be wearing her bikini. I didn’t expect to see her in painter’s pants and a T-shirt. “You sure you want to do this?” I asked.
“But of course. I promise I won’t bite. Want something to drink?”
“Coke,” I answered.
“We can do this one of two ways,” Shannie opened the refrigerator door. She stuck her head inside, exaggerating her pose. She popped open the can and sat in front of me. “We can play strip poker or spin the bottle.”
“Spin the bottle.” I didn’t know how to play poker.
“Drink up,” she said sitting across from me, eying me as I drank.
I took my time. Sitting with her legs crossed, chin resting in her palm, Shannie stared into my eyes.
"Let me help you.” Shannie chugged the rest of my soda. As she tossed the can she left out a world-class belch.
“Good push,” I said.
“Excuse me,” she laughed. At her bedroom door, she turned and said, “Just James. Whatever happens today, I mean, when you go to school and start meeting other girls, and find a girlfriend, which you will, don’t think that I will be pissed. We’re friends James, best of friends. I don’t want you to think you can’t be interested in anybody else.”
My face throbbed worse than when my mother socked me. “I wouldn’t think of being interested in anyone else."
"You haven’t met anyone else,” she said.
“That’s not true.”
"Name one,” she challenged.
“I thought that… well, never-mind,” I stammered.
“Thought what Just James?” Shannie grinned.
“That, ugh… forget it,” I mumbled.
Shannie leaned into me. Taking my hand into hers, she said: “A girlfriend would never do what I would do for you.” She led me into her bedroom. We sat across from each other on the hardwood floor. The white walls were awash with sunlight. “Boxers or briefs?’ Shannie teased.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” I answered.
“What if you’re commando?” she quipped.
“Commando?” I questioned.
"You know, bare-ass,” she said.
“I’m regular forces.”
"Excellent Eggs. Okay, what are the rules? Like, what are we going to start with,” she inquired.
I shrugged my shoulders. Rules? Where there are women there are rules, I thought.
“Geezus Pete, are you always this anal?”
“For once and for all - I’m not anal!”
“Are too,” Shannie insisted.
“No I’m not,” I protested.
“I guess we’ll see,” Shannie winked.
“I guess we will,” I mumbled.
“Anywho, I think we should start with sneakers, socks, shirt, pants, underwear. Except in my case, it should be sneakers, socks, pants, shirt, underwear.”
“Why should we have a different order?”
Shannie flashed me a toothy smile. “Do I have to explain everything?”
“No. I just don’t think….”
“I’ve already seen your charming chest and unless you’ve been peeking in my window you haven’t seen mine.”
I tried not to blush. “Whatever,” I said.
She gave me the look - the one that still haunts me. She lowered her chin and met my gaze with raised eyes, hair framing her face. “Lets do this,” she smiled.
“What do we do when one of us loses?”
“The other one wins.” It wasn’t till afterwards I fully comprehended what she meant. “I’ll spin first,” Shannie said.
“Say’s who?” I protested.
“Geezus Pete!” Shannie sighed. “Okay you spin first.”
“No. I don’t mean that,” I stalled. “I think we should flip a coin or something.”
Shannie jumped to her feet and fetched a quarter from her dresser. “Call it in the air.”
“Heads,” I called.
“Tails it is,” she showed me the captured coin on the back of her hand.
My heart pounded as she placed her hand on the bottle between us. “Does the bottle have to point directly at you or your half of the room?”
“Directly at you,” I said.
“You’re quite the tease,” she winked. “You ready?”
“Ready,” I answered.
Shannie spun the bottle. I was focused on its neck as it went round and round. My heart leaped into my throat as it pointed at me.
"Just James minus a shoe,” Shannie said with delight. “Hope he’s wearing his odor eaters sport’s fans.”
“Ha Ha,” I said.
I was minus my other sneaker and a sock before the wheel of fortune finally turned. “Well lookie here,” Shannie babbled. “It looks like James is going to see the bottom of my sock.” Shannie proved that untying a shoelace could be seductive. She smiled as she slid her foot from her Chuck.
As luck would have it, I won the next spin and Shannie repeated her show. It was my turn to spin, and mine was the first to miss a target. “You lose a turn,” Shannie said.
I was minus my shirt when Shannie lost her second sock. Shannie nailed me on her next spin costing me my shorts. I felt the beginning of a boner. I thought of my dead grandmother to stop it. I stood and turned away from Shannie, unsnapped my cutoffs and pulled them over my ankles. I felt my face burn as she whistled and clapped. I turned and dropped to my butt. “Tighty whities, really,” she laughed.
My next spin I missed again. “I’m screwed,” I mumbled.
“Don’t count on it,” Shannie answered.
Dead Eye Shannie’s next spin backfired and for the first time pointed at her. She leapt to her feet, caught my gaze with her eyes and directed it to her button. With a quick flick she undid it and let her shorts slide down her legs before stepping out of them. “It’s your spin,” she said interrupting my stare.
“Oh. Yeah.” I placed my trembling hand on the bottle and spun it. The tension built as it slowed. I felt lightheaded. The bottle crawled past me and pointed at Shannie. She smiled and pulled her shirt over her belly. She paused a second before exposing her breasts. I studied Shannie as she pulled her shirt over her head. Thoughts of my grandmother faded.
“You win,” Shannie said. She stood and slid off her panties. “Would you like to touch them,” she whispered.
“Sure.” I managed.
“Come here,” Shannie smiled as she retreated to her bed. I watched her lay on her side. I slid into her bed. Her softness surprised me, her sparkling eyes captured me, but it was the soft gasp escaping her lips that I have always cherished.


Chapter 4 Paybacks

It was the first day of school and the gray sky watched Count and I trudge the three blocks to Beyford Junior High. “Do you always have this much bounce in the morning?” Count bemoaned.
“Excited,” I answered.
“Good for you,” he mumbled.
“Count?”
“That’s the name.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“No, you won’t get your ass kicked. I got you covered. Yes, the chicks will love you. You’re from California, they’re dumb enough to think you’re from Hollywood. Play it up, tell them you’re related to Tom Cruise.”
“That’s not it,” I said stepping onto Bainbridge Street.
He grabbed me and yanked me back onto the curb. The world was filled with the squeal of breaks and the smell of burnt rubber. Over the blare of a car horn Count barked, “Dumb ass, trying to get yourself killed?”
“Asshole,” I roared. The driver flipped me off and yelled something about watching were I was going.
“You’re the asshole,” Count barked.
“F you, we’ve got the right away.”
“How do you figure?”
“Pedestrians always have the right away.”
“Maybe in Hollywood Golden Boy, do that here, you’ll end up six feet under.”
‘That’s screwed up,” I bitched.
“Welcome to the real world,” Count said. It wouldn’t be the last time Count saved my bacon.

That night while my mother and I ate and father’s food cooled – he was working late again – she asked. “What do you know about that blind black man?”
“Who?” I pretended not to know Russell.
“You know the black man that sweeps the sidewalks. He smells like rotten eggs and cigars. I walked past him when he was sitting on the bench across from town hall. He was drinking out of paper bag. Like he was fooling anyone, the drunk. Anyway, today when Shannie was…” She pronounced Shannie’s name Shan-knee.
“Shay-knee.” I corrected.
“Yeah, her… she was dropped off by a van this afternoon and not five minutes later the black man let himself in their house. I can imagine what happens behind their walls.”
That’s where Russell was going, I thought. During sixth period - Social Studies - I looked out the window and saw him walking up Cemetery Street, his white cane swinging back in forth in front of him.
“You know whom I talking about?” she asked.
“Russell. Shannie introduced us. He’s kind of a fixture in town.”
“Fixture? Hah, I’ve never seen him before last week.”
“He was away.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Probably prison.” She paused. “How does she know him?”
“He’s a friend of the family.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had trouble with Byrne?” Count asked me walking home from football practice. It was the end of September and for the first three weeks of school I didn’t have a problem with anybody - not counting the unwanted affection of Jenny Wade - until I stumbled upon Rex Byrne in the third floor boy’s room. Rex and his grease monkeys where catching a smoke between classes.
“Well what do we have here?” Rex said from behind his cigarette. He was leaning against the window ledge, his legs and arms crossed in front of him.
“If it ain’t Hollywood,” a second monkey added.
I didn’t know walking into that bathroom was breaking an unwritten rule. Hollywood’s learning curve was going to cost him. It was Byrne’s gang’s territory, and they guarded it jealously.
“Ain't this the douche bag that hangs out with that weird chick? You know, the one that lives next to the boneyard?” asked monkey number three, I later learned his name was Ed Nugent.
“That’s the faggot,” a redheaded greaser chimed in.
“Sorry, I didn’t think the sign said assholes only,” I said.
“You’re dead moron,” Nugent said.
“The sign on the door says no faggots. Looks like you need a reading lesson,” Rex Byrne said.
The bell rang. “I’m out of here,” I said.
“You ain’t going nowhere,” Byrne said.
I dropped my books and swung at Nugent. I caught the side of his face. He dropped to the floor. I faced the others. Byrne’s steel tipped boot found my gut. My wind escaped me. On the floor,