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up at a yard sale. Why hadn't he gotten rid of that, like she told him to? The thing was a fire hazard.) |
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She flicked on the light, half expecting that Matty would order her to turn it out. He said nothing. She turned the beam toward him. He was sitting in the far corner, asleep with Daisy Too, the stuffed cat, clutched in his arm. His face was scratched and bruised. There were bloodstains on his chin and turtleneck. |
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She put her hand on his shoulder. "Matty, Matty. It's Mom. Wake up." |
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He stirred. Gently she shook him. "Matty, it's okay. Wake up." In the light she saw his eyes slit open. "Honey, it's me, Mom." |
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His eyes widened. They locked on her, and for one moment she felt she was looking into eyes that did not belong to her son, but to a thing that would spring at her the way it had at Bobby Gorawlski. |
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But Matty did not spring at her. He groaned and pressed his face into the stuffed cat. Terry's heart ached as she stroked his arm. In the distance she could hear others coming for them. |
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"Mom?" he whispered. "I did something bad, didn't I?" |
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He shook his head, puzzled, then looked down at his shirt and pants. "We had a game," he said, trying to recall the night. "I was playing second . . ." |
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Slowly he began to rub his brow. "And I had a wicked headache. Then, I think I fell. Then I was up here." He stopped and looked at her. "How did I get up here?" |
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"You don't remember anything else?" |
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There was no sign of dissembling or pretense. "You don't remember Bobby Gorawlski running into you? Or you jumping on him?" |
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"Bobby . . ." He trailed off as he tried to put it together. "Kind of," he said. ''But not really. Did I hurt him?" |
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Terry nodded. The lithium had failed miserably. |
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"I think he'll need stitches." |
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"You really don't remember?" |
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