She sank back onto her seat and put the books down.
Why was he doing this to her? Was he annoyed because shed seemed in such a rush to get out?
Im doomed, she thought.
Mr. Kramer stepped behind his desk and stuffed books into his briefcase. The kids hurried out. The room had doors at the front and rear. Riley didnt leave by the front. Hed probably used the other door, but Lane forced herself not to look.
Maybe he forgot about me.
Fat chance.
Mr. Kramer came around his desk and sat on its edge, facing her. He held some typed sheets in his hand.
He wants to discuss one of my themes?
But Lane could see that it wasnt hers. It looked like erasable paper. The stuff always felt sticky, and the ink had a tendency to smear if you rubbed it, but shed used it anyway until her father had told her to throw away that junk and use some decent bond. Hed gone on to say that only amateurs fooled with erasable paper, and editors hated it with a passion.
That isnt mine, she said.
Mr. Kramer smiled. Im aware of that. What I have here is a book report that I found very interesting. It was written by Henry Peidmont. Is he a friend of yours?
Yes.
Henry, she knew, had Kramer for second period.
Hes quite a good student, but he does have a peculiar taste in literature. He seems to relish the macabre.
Yeah, Ive noticed.
Kramer fluttered the pages a bit. This particular report deals with a book called Night Watcher, by Lawrence Dunbar. He tipped his head sideways and smiled at Lane.
So thats it, she thought.
Im not in trouble, after all.
Just in trouble with Riley.
Hes my dad, she admitted, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment.
Henry mentions that in his report.
Thanks, Hen.
We dont have many real authors living here in Mulehead Bend. In fact, your father is the only one Im aware of. Do you suppose he might be willing to come in sometime and talk to the class?
He might. Hes kind of busy, but...
Im sure he is. We wouldnt want to impose on him, but I think that the class might enjoy hearing what he has to say. Ive never read any of his books myself. Theyre not exactly my cup of tea.
A lot of people feel that way, Lane said.
Ive seen his books on the stands, though. And Ive seen any number of students with them.
They need more parental supervision.
Kramer laughed softly.
He may be a teacher, Lane thought, but hes sure a neat guy.
I understand that the novels are pretty nasty.
You were misinformed. Theyre extremelynasty. Im under strict orders not to read any until Im thirty-five.
Ill bet youve disobeyed, though, havent you?
Lane grinned. Ive read em all.
Under the bedcovers, I presume.
Some of the time.
Well, Id really appreciate it if you would talk to him. If he could find the time to come in, I think the kids would get quite a charge out of it. He might want to tell them about how he became a writer, why he chose to specialize in extremely nasty novels, that kind of thing.
Ill check with him about it.
Fine. I wont keep you any longer now. But let me know, okay?
Sure. She picked up her books. As she scooted off the seat, she saw him glance at her legs and look away quickly.
At least somebody appreciates the dress, she thought.
Too bad he has to be a teacher.
Heading toward the door, she was hit again by the knowledge that Riley might be waiting for her.
What if I ask Mr. Kramer to walk me out to the parking lot?
No way, she told herself. He might get the wrong idea. Unless I explain about Riley. And that might get Riley in hot water, and then Id reallybe in trouble.
See you tomorrow, she called over her shoulder.
Have a nice evening, Lane.
She stepped into the hallway. Leaning against the lockers on the other side was Jim. He lifted a hand in greeting.
I wouldnt blame you if you told me to get lost, he said, coming toward her. I dont know what got into me this morning, Im really sorry.
You should be.
You can wash my mouth out with soap, if thatd help any.
Thats an idea. She took hold of his hand. Next time, I just might.
Am I forgiven, then?
I guess so. This time.
Together they walked down the hall.
So much for dumping him, she thought. Guess I wasnt ready for it, after all.
Though she was a little disappointed in herself, she mostly felt relieved.
I was afraid Id really blown it, Jim said. All day I kept thinking about it, and how much Id miss you. I really love you, Lane. I dont know what I wouldve done if... well, anyway. Were okay again, right?
Yeah. Were okay.
He squeezed her hand.
In the parking lot Lane spotted Riley Benson sitting on the hood of her Mustang. They were still some distance away, and Jim hadnt noticed him yet.
But Riley saw them, scurried down and swaggered off.
Ten
She was water skiing on the river at night. She didnt want to be there. She was frightened.
She wanted to stop but didnt dare. The thing in the water would get her before the boat had time to swing around and pick her up.
She didnt know what it was in the water. But something. Something awful.
The boat sped faster and faster, as if it wanted to help her escape. She skimmed over the smooth black surface, clinging to the handle of the tow line, whimpering with terror.
Somehow, she knew that the boat wasnt quick enough. The thing in the water was gaining on her.
If they were closer to shore! If the boat took her near enough to a dock, she might let go of the line and her speed might take her gliding to safety.
But she couldnt see the shore.
On both sides there was only darkness.
Thats impossible, she thought. The rivers no more than a quarter mile wide.
Where are we?
Sick with dread, she thought, Were not on the Colorado anymore.
Clutching the wooden handle with her right hand, she raised her left and waved for the boat to head ashore.
Wherever that might be.
It kept its straight course.
Look at me! her mind shrieked. Damn it, pay attention!
She suddenly realized that she didnt know who was steering the boat.
Then she saw that it was drawing away from her.
As if the tow line were stretching.
Slowly, the running lights faded with distance, until they vanished entirely. Even the sound of the outboards died away.
There was silence except for the hiss of her skis.
The tow rope led into darkness.
She was alone.
Except for the thing under the river.
Oh God, what am I going to...
Cold hands grabbed her ankles, tugged her straight down. She was still on her skis, still speeding at the end of the tow line, but under the surface. The water pushed at her. It filled her open mouth, muffling her scream as the hands scurried up her legs.
She felt the things icy flesh against her back. It was standing on the skies behind her, riding them, reaching around her front, grabbing her hands, trying to rip them from the wooden bar. She held on with all her might.
If I let go, heII have me!
He snapped her left arm. Broke it off at the elbow. Her hand still clutched the bar for a moment, trailing its severed forearm. Then the rushing current took them away.
A hand clamped over her mouth. It pinched her nostrils shut.
She fought to suck in air.
Somehow, shed been able to breathe in spite of the water gushing down her throat, but the hand was different. It was solid. Her lungs burned.
She grabbed the hand and woke up and the hand was still there, mashing her bruised mouth, pinching her nostrils shut.