"We're not crazy, you know."
Bobby was not satisfied with the meeting at all, but they had voted fair and square, and
they meant to do what they said, if they could. That sort of brought it down to 'the inside
thing, the last question.
"Well," be said. "OK." He needed time to think.
The rest of the morning was somber even by Freedom Five standards. Paul was persuaded
to lie dOWJ!. and rest for a while, to give up his first swim of the day. No more than any other
kid did be willingly take naps while the sun was still shining, but this time he relented.
"If you go home hurt or cranky, Mother's going to wonder why," Dianne said.
"You could mess up everything," John said.
"F
lf t
"
or yourse , oo. . . .
Even Cindy, the slightest unselfish trace coming out in her, put a soft little hand on his
head. "We can play and swim after lunch," she said. "I'll go with you. If you want to. We can
build bridges and stuff."
Bobby nodded, and Paul reluctantly shut his eyes.
He was obviously in some lingering state of upsetpale, trembly, perspiry-but he tried to
obey, and they left him.
Even at the beach, however, the mood did not lighten. It was terrifically bot: the water felt
like lukewarm mud, and the sand flies with avenging appetite drove them down from place
to place.
"It's really going to do it this afternoon," John
said.
"Rain?" Bobby said. "Squall."
"Yeah," Cindy said.
"What do you know about it?" "I know ... !"
200
"Yeah, it is."
"Are we really going to do it?" Bobby said after a
bit
"What?"
"You know. Kill her.',
John sighed. They were sitting on the half-mud, half-sand bottom, about shoulder-deep in
the water to keep away the files. He picked up a cupped handful of water and let it dribble
through his fingers. "I guess so," he said. "Dianne's got it figured out pretty well."
"Why?"
"I dunno:" The fact that John said he did not know the reason in no way seemed to
undermine his determination to go ahead and do it.
"Do we have to? I mean, what if we went up there now and told her she had to promise not
to tell or she was going to get killed?"
"She'd promise."
"She'd fib!" Cindy said. "Shut up."
"I don't have to. It's my house as much as yours." "You ought to stop picking on her," John
said
gently. "She's got smarts, too. She's right. Barbara'd tell, anyhow."
"Yeah," Bobby conceded. "So we get a whipping, and it's all over. It's not going to kill us.
We had our fun."
"That's not the point," John said.
"What is then? I mean, we proved we could tie her up and do anything we wanted to her.
We've already proved we can kill her. All you have to do is go up there and get my .22 and-
blowie!-she's dead. What's the sense of going to jail the rest of your life for it? What good is
she, dead?"
John was in no way a Catholic, but he said, "If you don't feel it yourself, I can't tell you."
The antique argument was fairly effective with Bobby; it was also unassailable, but he
tried. "So, tell
me."
201
"You remember how we used to play when we were younger?"
It had been kind of neat then, Bobby remembered, but now that they were talking
about real life, it was too gruesome to repeat. "Yeah, I remember," he said quickly.
"Like when we cut off the guy's fingers so he
couldn't climb out of the well?"
"I said I remembered."
"Well?"
-
"Well, nothing. That was only playing."
"So's going out for football after school; only Namath made 400-grand for signing with
the Jets. So's grinding out the grades; only some guys get sent around the world with
scholarships for it. Free."
"I ... ," Bobby struggled. "I guess that was fun, and this isn't. I didn't really mean it
about killing people."
"I didn't either," John said. "It's funny." "What?"
"Well I mean, I mean it now.''
"Will you just say why?" "Killing-is-what-one-person--does-to-
another-person-who-can't-help-himself." For John, this commonplace verged on
profundity. His face grew stern with the effort of it.
"It isn't," Bobby said.
"Well"-John gave an annoyed shrug-"Maybe only when you're not going to be caught at
it."
"Even still, it isn't that way."
"Then why does it happen all the time? Every time somebody gets the chance?"
"It doesn't. Not all the time.'' Nonetheless Bobby was swayed, bent by obvious fact, left
without an answer that he could easily express. What was in the corner of his mind
was the general argument, "We all ought to try and not do it," or something of the sort,
but it was a dumb chicken thing to say because nobody but him wanted to try anyhow.
In the-to him-ava- 202
lanche of Freedom Five opinion, he could only say, "Anyway, I don't want to kill her."
"You don't have to. Paul will. Or Dianne. Or me, if I have to."
"Or me!" Cindy said brightly. She was becoming
more savage as time went on.
"You better not!"
"I'll do what I like." "Leave her alone .... "
"And I don't even want to watch."
"You don't have to. Go up and put your head under the pillows all day if you want to."
"Then what do I have to do."
"Stand your guard. Shut up. Or it'll be you instead of her. You can't get away from us."
Well, that was true enough. Bobby could not get away from John. They were sitting not two
feet apart in the water. In such a tone does society speak.
Bobby sighed. A tear came down one cheek, and he clumsily washed it away with river
water.
"Oh, cut it out for godsakes," John said. "It's going to come out all right."
"Yeah. Don't be a cry baby," Cindy said.
At that point Dianne appeared above them at the top of the bank. "Let's eat." She was as
neat as ever but rather prettier and more animated than usual. "We have to clean up the
house and get ready, and then we have to take her to the bathroom."
"What for?" Cindy said. "She hasn't eaten since Wednesday."
"To make sure she's purged," Dianne said.
When the kids were late, and when, after they arrived, they did not come down, and when
she heard the muffled sounds of voices coming through the floor at the other end of the
house, Barbara assumed that it was a meeting. The occasional formality of the kids when
dealing as Freedom Five had not escaped her. But about what? A very strange tingling-was