Split by Mel Bossa Read Free Book Online

kids. Josh and Terry, who are terrified of Mrs. Lund, ran off with the Sanchez girls. Nick stayed behind.
    Lene was dressed up as Marie Curie. I know because she showed me a picture of the scientist in the Lunds’ encyclopedia. She cut loose of Mrs. Lund’s firm grip and skipped up our front steps.
    She sat by me. “Hello, Derek.”
    “Hi, Lene.”
    “Are you the Count of Monte Cristo?”
    “No.”
    “Don Juan?”
    “No.”
    “Our baby is sleeping. The cat ate one of her eyes out, but the doctor said she would be fine without it.”
    “Lene? Why is your to-ton-tongue bl-u-ue?”
    She plucked a lollipop out of her apron. “I was sucking on this. You wanna taste it?”
    “No.”
    “How come you aren’t trick or treating?”
    “Don’t wa-wa-want to.”
    Then, like some kind of slow, deep dream, Nick’s voice dripped down to me. “Come on, Lene.” He leaned over the railing. “Mom wants you to take your bath.” He wasn’t wearing his mask or hat anymore.
    Lene pouted. “You know, Nico, baths weren’t common practice in the early 1900s, and I—”
    “Inside, Lene. Now .”
    Even Lene knew not to protest. She got to her feet, and Nick picked her up, carrying her as if she were a doll, right over the railing. “Come on, bright eyes, and wash your mouth. It looks like a Smurf had an accident on your tongue.”
    I got nervous.
    There weren’t that many kids anymore. Nick and I were basically alone. I wanted to go back inside, but that meant having to say good night at least, and I didn’t know if I could manage to do that. My mouth was too dry. My tongue, too heavy. I sat on the first step, trying to keep my breathing in check, with my hands on my lap, staring at the empty sidewalk.
    I could see Nick out of the corner of my eye.
    He leaned over the front railing, watching the street. “You want some of this leftover candy?” he finally said. “Nothing but toffee and raisins, but I think I saw a few gum sticks in there.”
    I dared to look over my shoulder. “No-no thank you-ou.”
    “No? Sure?” He was handing me the plastic pumpkin over the railing. He looked nine feet tall. The street lamp shimmered inside his eyes. “Come on, O’Reilly.” His mouth glistened like water under the moon. “Have a box of dried raisins, at least.”
    I wanted to, but that meant having to reach out and take the pumpkin out of his hand. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but he still stood there, with his arm stretched over the railing, and I had to get myself together. “All right,” I said, standing up. “Than-thanks.”
    I took whatever my fingers landed on, and stuffed that in my pocket without even looking at it. Nick set the pumpkin down, shut the front door, and then stood against the wall with his hands in his pockets. I wanted to sit down again, but instead, I stayed by the railing, staring at the ground.
    Nick glanced around. He then took a quick peek into the front window of their apartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one. I watched the orange fire on the tip of the cigarette widen every time he sucked on it. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled through the nose. He didn’t cough once.
    He didn’t say anything else. Just smoked.
    Then of course, stupid JF had to show up. “Hey Nico,” he shot from the sidewalk. Nick hates it when people call him that. Only his family can. But JF is clueless. He’s always trying to impress Nick, on account of JF being a schmuck and all. “Hangin’ out, huh, Nico.”
    Nick tossed his chin up. “Nice costume.”
    JF was dressed up as a Macho Man, but his wig looked like something Madonna would wear. I caught the sarcasm in Nick’s voice, but JF obviously didn’t. “Thanks, man. Your brother’s still punished huh?”
    Nick squashed the end of the cigarette on his heel, then walked over to the street drain and dropped it in there. “That’s right.”
    “Too bad, though,” JF said, sniffling nervously. “He was only trying to defend you. I mean,