"Carl Hiaasen - Hoot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hiaasen Carl)

to deal with Garrett when she got home.
"Yeah, we skate hard until the security guards run us off," Garrett was saying,
"and then we do the parking lots until we get chased out of there, too. It's a
blast."
"Sweet," Roy said, though cruising a mall seemed like a pretty dull way to spend
a Saturday morning. He was looking forward to his first airboat ride in the
Everglades. His dad had promised to take him, one of these weekends.
"Are there any other schools around here?" Roy asked Garrett.
"Why? You sick of this one already?" Garrett cackled and plunged a spoon into a
lump of clammy apple crisp.
"No way. The reason I asked, I saw this weird kid today at one of the bus stops.
Except he didn't get on the bus, and he's not here at school," Roy said, "so I
figured he must not go to Trace."
"I don't know anyone who doesn't go to Trace," Garrett said. "There's a Catholic
school up in Fort Myers, but that's a long ways off. Was he wearing a uniform,
this kid? Because the nuns make everybody wear uniforms."
"No, he definitely wasn't in a uniform."
"You're sure he was in middle school? Maybe he goes to Graham," Garrett
suggested. Graham was the public high school nearest to Coconut Cove.
Roy said, "He didn't look big enough for high school."
"Maybe he was a midget." Garrett grinned and made a farty noise with one of his
cheeks.
"I don't think so," said Roy.
"You said he was weird."
"He wasn't wearing any shoes," Roy said, "and he was running like crazy."
"Maybe somebody was after him. Did he look scared?"
"Not really."
Garrett nodded. "High school kid. Betcha five bucks."
To Roy, that still didn't make sense. Classes at Graham High started fifty-five
minutes earlier than the classes at Trace; the high school kids were off the
streets long before the middle school buses finished their routes.
"So he was skippin' class. Kids skip all the time," Garrett said. "You want your
dessert?"
Roy pushed his tray across the table. "You ever skip school?"
"Uh, yeah," Garrett said sarcastically. "Buncha times."
"You ever skip alone?"
Garrett thought for a moment. "No. It's always me and my friends."
"See. That's what I mean."
"So maybe the kid's just a psycho. Who cares?"
"Or an outlaw," said Roy.
Garrett looked skeptical. "An outlaw? You mean like Jesse James?"
"No, not exactly," Roy said, though there had been something wild in that kid's
eyes.
Garrett laughed again. "An outlawЧthat's rich, Eberhardt. You got a seriously
whacked imagination."
"Yeah," said Roy, but already he was thinking about a plan. He was determined to
find the running boy.

TWO
The next morning, Roy traded seats on the school bus to be closer to the front