Hearts In Atlantis by Stephen King Read Free Book Online

me, Bobby-O. Has he?”
    Bobby considered. A few rootbeers, sometimes a tuna sandwich or a cruller from the bakery where Sully’s mom worked, but no presents. Just the book, which was one of the best presents he had ever gotten. “Jeepers, no, why would he?”
    â€œI don’t know. But then, I don’t know why a man you just met would give you a birthday present in the first place.” She sighed, folded her arms under her small sharp breasts, and went on looking out Bobby’s window. “He told me he used to work in a state jobup in Hartford but now he’s retired. Is that what he told you?”
    â€œSomething like that.” In fact, Ted had never told Bobby anything about his working life, and asking had never crossed Bobby’s mind.
    â€œWhat kind of state job? What department? Health and Welfare? Transportation? Office of the Comptroller?”
    Bobby shook his head. What in heck was a comptroller?
    â€œI bet it was education,” she said meditatively. “He talks like someone who used to be a teacher. Doesn’t he?”
    â€œSort of, yeah.”
    â€œDoes he have hobbies?”
    â€œI don’t know.” There was reading, of course; two of the three bags which had so offended his mother were full of paperback books, most of which looked very hard.
    The fact that Bobby knew nothing of the new man’s pastimes for some reason seemed to ease her mind. She shrugged, and when she spoke again it seemed to be to herself rather than to Bobby. “Shoot, it’s only a book. And a paperback, at that.”
    â€œHe said he might have a job for me, but so far he hasn’t come up with anything.”
    She turned around fast. “Any job he offers you, any chores he asks you to do, you talk to me about it first. Got that?”
    â€œSure, got it.” Her intensity surprised him and made him a little uneasy.
    â€œPromise.”
    â€œI promise.”
    â€œ Big promise, Bobby.”
    He dutifully crossed his heart and said, “I promise my mother in the name of God.”
    That usually finished things, but this time she didn’t look satisfied.
    â€œHas he ever . . . does he ever . . .” There she stopped, looking uncharacteristically flustered. Kids sometimes looked that way when Mrs. Bramwell sent them to the blackboard to pick the nouns and verbs out of a sentence and they couldn’t.
    â€œHas he ever what, Mom?”
    â€œNever mind!” she said crossly. “Get out of here, Bobby, go to the park or Sterling House, I’m tired of looking at you.”
    Why’d you come in, then? he thought (but of course did not say). I wasn’t bothering you, Mom. I wasn’t bothering you .
    Bobby tucked Lord of the Flies into his back pocket and headed for the door. He turned back when he got there. She was still at the window, but now she was watching him again. He never surprised love on her face at such moments; at best he might see a kind of speculation, sometimes (but not always) affectionate.
    â€œHey Mom?” He was thinking of asking for fifty cents—half a rock. With that he could buy a soda and two hotdogs at the Colony Diner. He loved the Colony’s hotdogs, which came in toasted buns with potato chips and pickle slices on the side.
    Her mouth did its tightening trick, and he knew this wasn’t his day for hotdogs. “Don’t ask, Bobby, don’t even think about it.” Don’t even think about it —one of her all-time faves. “I have a ton of bills this week, so get those dollar-signs out of your eyes.”
    She didn’t have a ton of bills, though, that was the thing. Not this week she didn’t. Bobby had seen both the electric bill and the check for the rent in its envelope marked Mr. Monteleone last Wednesday. And she couldn’t claim he would soon need clothes because this was the end of the school-year, not the beginning. The only dough