Split by Mel Bossa Read Free Book Online Page A

Sebastian was just looking for a—”
    “What’s that?”
    I tensed up.
    “Well, I mean—” JF’s voice was smaller now. “Sebastian was sort of putting you down and Boone didn’t like that one bit, so—”
    “Putting me down?’ Nick’s eyebrows met over his nose. “What do you mean exactly? What did he say? Word for word.”
    JF was going to have to repeat those words.
    He was going to have to call Nick Lund a retard to his face.
    I couldn’t help smiling.
    JF looked up to me with panic in his eyes. “Well, I don’t remember everything he said, just that you had some problems or something. Anyways, Boone sure gave him a lesson, huh?”
    Nick wasn’t buying it. “Problems? What kind of problems?” He took a step toward JF and folded his arms over his broad chest. “What the fuck did he say, exactly? Come on, spit it out, you little pussy.”
    JF swallowed hard. “He called you a retard.” We could barely hear him.
    “A what now?” Nick’s voice was like an ice storm.
    “A retard. He said you couldn’t even read a license plate.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    My heart had begun racing. I didn’t know if it was from dread, or satisfaction.
    “A retard, huh?” Nick repeated, his eyes blazing. “He said that? That little shit? He said I was a retard. Huh. Okay. All right. Okay.”
    JF had managed to slip past Nick and come up the stairs to our balcony. “Derek, he’s flippin’ out.” he whispered.
    Oh yeah, Nick was flipping out.
    “A retard huh? I’m gonna fucking break him in half and have him eating out of his asshole for the rest of his life.”
    I could kind of picture what that might look like, and it wasn’t pretty.
    “I’m gonna go pay that little pimple squirt a visit. No fair Boone had to take the rap.” Nick looked up to JF. “You go get Josh and Terry. Tell ’em I’ll be at Dunkin’ Donuts . ” He climbed up the stairs, and then looked over at me. “O’Reilly, if you have some extra toilet paper you wouldn’t mind parting with, I’d like it, please.”
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    Nick went into the house.
    JF made a strange sound, sort of like a snort, and stuck his hands into his pockets. His wig was crooked and his face looked like curd cheese. “You could have said something. You were there too.”
    I sighed and pointed to the street. “Better do-do what he said before-fuh-fore he comes back out.”
    “What do you think he’s gonna do? I mean, he won’t really break him in half—”
    “I don’t know, but I’m getting him some toilet pa-pa-per.”
    Inside, Aunt Frannie was on the phone. “Honey—” She folded her hand over the speaker. “Be quiet, your mom’s sleeping, but don’t worry, she had an egg sandwich before she went to bed. See? It’s not so bad.”
    Aunt Frannie thinks Mom’s blues are hungry all the time.
    I slipped the silk scarf off my head and washed my face in the bathroom sink. I put Dad’s shirt in the hamper and pulled my thick black sweater over my head. It hasn’t snowed yet, but it’s still cold out there.
    I tiptoed to the hallway closet and gently opened it.
    “What are you looking for, Red?” Aunt Frannie stood behind me.
    The answer jumped out of my mouth before I could even think it. “A flashlight.”
    “What for? There’s plenty of light. Are they calling for a thunderstorm?”
    Aunt Frannie could wrestle a grizzly bear, but she doesn’t like thunderstorms.
    “May-maybe.” I said, avoiding her wide green eyes.
    “Oh, well in that case, I’m going to get the candles ready. Where does your mom keep ’em, hon?”
    We have two white candles in the kitchen. Both melted down to the middle. They’re in the second drawer, under the washcloths.
    “In the ba-ba-basement, in Dad’s corner.” I lied.
    I thought I could slip the toilet paper out to Nick while she went looking for them.
    She threw her white robe on and took the flashlight out of my hand. “Just in case.” She headed down the narrow stairs to the cement