"Jack Dann - Voices" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

"Piss off, Crocker."

"Well, it was a kid who lived in Endicott. His family moved to Virginia. I
can't remember the rest."

"You should have told me it was a kid. Christ Almighty!"

"You shoulda read what I gave you," he said in a singsong voice that made me
want to crown him.

"How'd he die?" I asked.

"I dunno," Crocker said. "They don't tell you that kind of stuff in the paper."

"Well, did he go to our school?"

"I can't remember," Crocker said, but it was too late anyway, because Aunt Leona
brought a whole crowd to talk to us. I was really nervous now.

What were we supposed to say to the dead kid's parents?

Although it surprised the living hell right out of me, Crocker and I managed to
hold our own. We said how sorry we were and what a nice guy he was, how he
played a mean stickball and was a regular nut for Bill Haley and the Comets and
Jackie Wilson- you know, "Lonely Teardrops"-and it was the craziest damn thing
because it was almost as if we did know this kid. With all the crying and
hugging going on around us, I started to get that thunder sound in my ears,
which I always used to hear before I was going to cry.

I hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

I didn't even hear it at my dad's funeral, or at the house when everyone stood
around and told me I had to be a big boy and all that crap. It wasn't until
months later that I heard the thunder sound, when I was in the house alone and
practicing the piano. I looked up and saw Dad's photograph on the piano; and
suddenly, like I was crazy all of a sudden, I heard the thunder and then I
started to cry. It made me feel sick. But after that, I didn't cry again.

Until now.

Everybody was crying, including me, and Crock-a-shit excused both of us so we
could pay our respects to the departed (that's just what he said). As soon as
we were out of their reach, he said, "Steve, you're good at this."
"So are you," I said, pretending that it was all an act. "Now let's get it over
with."

"Okay," Crocker said, and we stood right before the casket and looked into it. I
could smell the flowers-the ones with the long wormy things inside them-but they
didn't smell bad. The kid in the casket was wearing a suit and tie ... just