There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (38 page)

Tubby shrugged, too embarrassed to admit the truth. They started the walk up Main Street. At this hour, even the crickets and cicadas had gone to sleep. The tree frogs, too.

“Then you’ll just have to spend the night with me.”

Tubby looked as if she’d just suggested they go skinny dipping out by the lake. Despite herself, Josie giggled. The look on his face was so
feckin’
adorable!

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that,” Tubby said, shaking his head emphatically. What on earth would your parents say? Good grief, Josie! What would
Bud Brown
say! Oh, no. I’ll just come back here and sleep on the sofa upstairs. That is, if I can borrow your key?”

Josie smiled and slipped her arm through Tubby’s. “No, you may
not
have my key. You’ll have your own soon enough. Besides, I won’t have you walking back all this way on your own. It’s not safe right now.”

“But
your
parents!” Tubby said, nearly frantic now. “And Bud! What would he say about me spending—”

“Buddy boy would say I was right, Ralphie; making you sleep over. Besides, we’ve all spent many a night at each others’ houses over the years.” Josie frowned thoughtfully. “Although I don’t expect Bud and I will be bunking together anytime soon.” The thought that they’d traded in that innocent part of their lives for their newfound relationship made her a little sad. “As far as me mother goes…she could care less,” Josie explained with a dismissive flip of her hand. “Drunk as she usually is.”

“But your
dad
,” Tubby insisted, unable to let it go. “What’ll he think when he sees me first thing in the morning?” Less than 24 hours ago, he didn’t have a friend in the world. Now he had three! And
one
, the most beautiful girl he’d ever known, was actually asking him to spend the night! While it may have seemed perfectly innocent to Josie, Tubby thought she’d change her mind right quick if she could see the lurid fantasies churning through his head. For some reason he kept imagining himself, decked out in a sailor’s suit, chasing after Josie, scantily clad in bra and panties. Through one door after another. Her big boobies bouncing wildly. The fantasy rolling through his head in fast motion. Like some crazy Benny Hill routine, complete with laughtrack and music.

“Me dad died eight years ago,” Josie replied with a pained smile.

That brought the damn silly fantasy to a cymbal crashing halt. “Oh, gee, Josie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Josie saw the genuine sympathy on Ralph’s face and she began to cry. Just like that. It was something she had never done with Bud, and only once before with Rusty. She preferred keeping those sorts of debilitating emotions to herself. Deep down, where they couldn’t hurt her. But this awkward boy, with his huge heart, somehow made it feel right and good to let all that out for once. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she cried and cried, and talked and talked, as they moved down the empty street together, relating to him the tragic events of October 13, 1996. When her daddy fell through that dappled, emerald ceiling. The very same night Bud’s poor mom met her Fate in the parking lot at the Moon River Academy.

              Neither of them gave the rising Pines a second glance as they entered onto Huggins Way, the earlier events of the day forgotten for now. As only teenagers can do. By the time they passed the Drive-In, Josie had brought Tubby up to date. Including the brief history of Moon Island.

“So that’s how a black kid came to be named Rusty,” he said, patting Josie on the back. It suddenly occurred to him where his arm was and that it didn’t feel unwelcome there. “But why didn’t his folks just name him Joe, since that was your dad’s real first name?”

Josie wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Surprised again at how quickly this boy had become one of them. How at ease she felt in his company. “Probably because no one called him
Joe
…except for me mum, that is. He’d been going by Rusty, or Joe Rusty, since he was a redheaded tyke. Besides, me brother and I took daddy’s first name in a roundabout way.”

“For such a little guy, he can sure cuss up a storm.” “Me brother?”

Tubby laughed. “No! Rusty Huggins.”

             
“Gnat? Huh, tell you the truth, hon, I hardly notice anymore. You know, he didn’t always talk like that, and he
never
cusses in front of his folks. If Betty Anne ever caught him talking like that she’d wash his mouth out with soap. Buddy boy isn’t always the best influence, I’m afraid. Rusty’s just trying to keep up with the ruff lad.”

“Speaking of the way someone talks,” said Tubby, “are you from Ireland originally? I love your accent.”

Josie laughed and kissed Tubby on the cheek, causing him to turn that awful shade of eggplant again. “Thank you, darlin, but no, I’ve never even been to the
auld
country, as they say. When I was a wee girl, I doted on me father to such an extent I finally took on all his mannerisms and speech—except dad never used profanity. Aye! Rusty’s not the only one whose been unduly influenced by our Buddy boy! Anyway, the years have takin’ a toll on me brogue. At times I catch meself saying ‘My Mom’, instead of
‘Me Mum’
‘Shit, instead of
shite
.’ Like that, you know. Strangely enough had me father lived my accent probably would’ve vanished years ago. Kids talk like their peers, not their folks. But since he passed on, I’ve held onto the accent with all me heart. Losing it would be like…” Josie hitched a quiet sob, “losing the last wee bit of me dad.”

His eyes misty, Tubby said, “Gee.” 

Josie looked at Tubby and slipped her hand in his. “Ralphie…I want to thank you.”

Tubby gulped. “For what?”

“For listening. I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I’m so glad Bud invited you along today.”

Tubby smiled and nodded his head. “Me too.”

Ahead the lighthouse cast a looming shadow, its beacon drawing Josie home. When she was a little girl, her daddy used to tell her that living beside a lighthouse meant she would always know the way home. “That’s me home on this side of the lighthouse.”

             
Tubby saw how small it was. “Um, Josie? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“In a sleeping bag in me room. The boys also have sleeping bags in their rooms in case of the same thing. We do it all the time, Ralphie. Why, is something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Josie caught the laugh this time before it sneaked past her lips. “You can sleep on our sofa if you’d prefer.”

“That sounds like a better idea, Josie.”

“Okay, but I’ve got to warn you, my shy friend, me mum sometimes walks around the house in the buff.”

Tubby blushed again. His face felt like a barbershop pole: white one second, bright red the next. “Gee! I guess I better take the sleeping bag in your room then, huh?”

Josie giggled. “Unless you want to catch yourself an eyeful! Me mum has even bigger knockers than me! According to Buddy boy, they’re a sight to behold.”

Not knowing if Josie was kidding, Tubby tittered nervously. “Heh-heh! That’s okay. I’ll stay in your room.”

They tiptoed into the kitchen. Tubby kept expecting Mrs. O’Hara to any second stumble in on them without a stitch on, singing that rather apt “Chorus Line” number:
Tits and Ass!
at the top of her bellicose lungs.

Startled, he noticed the clock on the kitchen wall.

It was a creepy kind of clock, the seconds ticked off by the tail and slitted eyes of a smirking black cat. He’d seen its like before, of course, though never one so patently sinister. No sense of humor at all in this ebony timepiece.

Tubby felt a ridiculous urge to tear it from the wall.

Josie broke the spell by grabbing one of his sweaty hands and guiding him to her room. She closed the door behind them and turned on the overhead light. “I’m gonna check on me little brother. My bathroom’s over there,” she said, pointing at the opposite door. Please ignore the mess. Me maid’s a lazy twit. I’ll be right back, love.”

Tubby watched her leave. He wondered if Josie could hear how loud his heart was beating. He could literally see it thumping through his shirt. He checked out his surroundings as soon as her door clicked shut. Except for a pair of sky blue panties, thrown in one corner, which his eyes of course lingered on, it was hard to tell that a girl occupied the room at all. Nothing frilly about Josie O’Hara. Her bed was unmade; the plain white sheets tossed back in a hurry. A black concert T-shirt, torn at the collar, lay where Josie had dropped it on the bed.
Billy Joel: The Stranger Tour
.
The concert dates below the famous album cover had long ago faded away. Josie’s open closet revealed very few clothes, and except for several pairs of cheap flip-flops only two pairs of shoes. 

The room was effused with Josie’s signature strawberry scent, though try as he may, Tubby could find no perfumes on her dresser or otherwise.
Probably keeps that girly stuff in her bathroom
, he decided.

The only items on her dresser were several framed pictures of Bud and Rusty, and two other fellows, who Tubby assumed were Josie’s father and brother. In various poses and events. Both of whom had unruly red hair and all-over freckles. The same bright smile as Josie, though. The same gorgeous green eyes, too. There were no pictures of Josie’s mum. True to her word, a crumpled-up sleeping bag lay beside Josie’s bed. Tubby’s heart skipped a beat at the close proximity in which he’d be sleeping next to the goddess. Movie posters from various Stephen King movies lined her otherwise bare walls:
Stand By Me. Misery. The Shawshank Redemption,
and
The Green Mile
—leaving little doubt as to her favorite author’s identity.

Her bookshelf was just as crammed as the one back at the clubhouse. Josie did indeed have every King first edition, along with nearly every significant horror novel written in the past fifty years. Tottering heaps of
Creepy, Eerie
and
Vampirella
magazines sat atop the bulging bookshelf, one nudge away from a pulp fiction avalanche. On Josie’s bedside table a tall stack of well-read paperbacks held a place of honor, next to a gooseneck lamp and a wind-up alarm clock.

Her favorite novels
, Tubby thought.

He bent his head sideways to read the titles:
The Shining. Salem’s Lot. The Stand. Boy’s Life. Different Seasons. The Exorcist. Watership Down. Cujo. It. Swan Song,
and
Memoirs of an Invisible Man.

Tubby was flabbergasted. Except for the last two (
I wonder if she’ll let me borrow that Invisible Man)
, it was identical to his own stack of books back home!

He made a mental note to bring that up should their conversation hit a dull snag. A small writing table faced the bedroom’s lone window, overlooking the sandy bluff behind the house. A cheap fold-up chair sat underneath the desk, a pillow its cushion. An old Olivetti typewriter occupied the table, along with two neat stacks of paper on either side of the typewriter. It was, Tubby noted, the only orderly section in her room. One stack held blank pages, weighted down by a hardback copy of Stephen King’s
On Writing
, while the other stack held finished copy from a story entitled:
There’s Blood on the Moon Tonight…

In a time when most homes in America had at least one personal computer, that old typewriter said more about the O’Haras’ financial situation than all the cheap flip-flops and peeling paint chips put together.

Tubby could hear voices filtering through the wall. Josie talking to her brother, first scolding, then laughing.

He picked up the top sheet of copy from Josie’s desk, reading it with a great deal of interest, when the bedroom door creaked open. Josie came over and gently took the page from him. “It’s a rough first draft,” she said, turning it over on top of the other written pages. “Not ready for submission yet.”

“I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“That’s all right, love,” she said, dismissing it with a shrug, like it didn’t bother her at all.

“Is your mom awake?” 

“Nuh-uh, I just checked on her. She’s pretty much blotto. Been this way ever since me dad died.”

Tubby smiled sympathetically. “And your brother?”

“Och, he doesn’t drink all that much. He can handle his Juicy-Juice pretty good.”

Tubby laughed aloud, and then clapped a hand over his mouth in horror.

Josie giggled. “
Shite
, Ralphie! We could go into Shayna’s room and wrestle on the bed right beside her and she wouldn’t know a thing.” Josie saw the look on Tubby’s face and smiled.
If he was any cuter he’d be a Teddy Bear
! “But we won’t do that…
okay, dear
?”

“Whew. Glad to hear it.”

“Now hurry up and use me john, will ya, ‘cause I plan on being in there awhile.”

             
Josie had to hide the grin on her face as Tubby exited her bathroom fully dressed, some five minutes later. She‘d heard him brush his teeth and use her toilet (with the water running, of course, to mask the pee-pee sounds—Rusty did the same thing), and despite the PJ’s she knew he had in his bag, he chose to wear his clothes to bed. Probably had horsies on his pajamas or something equally embarrassing. She was tempted to tease him, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She drew the line at his dirty sneakers. “At least take your darn shoes off, Ralphie.”