"Kelly,_James_Patrick_-_10_16_to_1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

When I stood up, he was holding a sheet of paper. "I will need some things tomorrow, Mr. Beaumont. I would be grateful if you could assist me."
I glanced at the list without comprehension. He must have typed it, only there was no typewriter in the shelter.

To buy:
-One General Electric transistor radio with earplug
-One General Electric replacement earplug
-Two Eveready Heavy Duty nine volt batteries
-One New York Times, Tuesday, October 23
-Rand McNally map of New York City and vicinity
To receive in change:
-Five dollars in coins
-twenty nickels
-ten dimes
-twelve quarters

When I looked up, I could feel the change in him. His gaze was electric; it seemed to crackle down my nerves. I could tell that what I did next would matter very much. "I don't get it," I said.
"There are inaccuracies?"
I tried to stall. "Look, you'll pay almost double if we buy a transistor radio at Ward's Hollow. I'll have to buy it at Village Variety. Wait a couple of days -- we can get one much cheaper down in Stamford."
"My need is immediate." He extended his hand and tucked something into the pocket of my shirt. "I am assured this will cover the expense."
I was afraid to look, even though I knew what it was. He'd given me a hundred dollar bill. I tried to thrust it back at him but he stepped away and it spun to the floor between us. "I can't spend that."
"You must read your own money, Mr. Beaumont." He picked the bill up and brought it into the light of the bare bulb on the ceiling. "This note is legal tender for all debts public and private."
"No, no, you don't understand. A kid like me doesn't walk into Village Variety with a hundred bucks. Mr. Rudowski will call my mom!"
"If it is inconvenient for you, I will secure the items myself." He offered me the money again.
If I didn't agree, he'd leave and probably never come back. I was getting mad at him. Everything would be so much easier if only he'd admit what we both knew about who he was. Then I could do whatever he wanted with a clear conscience. Instead he was keeping all the wrong secrets and acting really weird. It made me feet dirty, like I was helping a pervert. "What's going on?" I said.
"I do not know how to respond, Mr. Beaumont. You have the list. Read it now and tell me please with which item you have a problem."
I snatched the hundred dollars from him and jammed it into my pants pocket. "Why don't you trust me?"
He stiffened as if I had hit him.
"I let you stay here. I didn't tell anyone. You have to give me something, Mr. Cross."
"Well then ... " He looked uncomfortable. "I would ask you to keep the change."
"Oh jeez, thanks." I snorted in disgust. "Okay, okay, I'll buy this stuff right after school tomorrow."
With that, he seemed to lose interest again. When we opened the Risk board, he showed me where his island was, except it wasn't there because it was too small. We played three games and he crushed me every time. I remember at the end of the last game, watching in disbelief as he finished building a wall of invading armies along the shores of North Africa. South America, my last continent, was doomed. "Looks like you win again," I said. I traded in the last of my cards for new armies and launched a final, useless counter-attack. When I was done, he studied the board for a moment.
"I think Risk is not a proper simulation, Mr. Beaumont. We should both lose for fighting such a war."
"That's crazy," I said. "Both sides can't lose."
"Yet they can," he said. "It sometimes happens that the victors envy the dead."
* * * *
That night was the first time I can remember being bothered by Mom talking back to the TV. I used to talk to the TV too. When Buffalo Bob asked what time it was, I would screech It's Howdy Doody Time just like every other kid in America.
"My fellow citizens," said President Kennedy, "let no one doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out." I thought the president looked tired, like Mr. Newell on the third day of a campout. "No one can foresee precisely what course it will take or what costs or casualties will be incurred."
"Oh my god," Mom screamed at him. "You're going to kill us all!"
Despite the fact that it was close to her bedtime and she was shouting at the President of the United States, Mom looked great. She was wearing a shiny black dress and a string of pearls. She always got dressed up at night, whether Dad was home or not. I suppose most kids don't notice how their mothers look, but everyone always said how beautiful Mom was. And since Dad thought so too, I went along with it -- as long as she didn't open her mouth. The problem was that a lot of the time, Mom didn't make any sense. When she embarrassed me, it didn't matter how pretty she was. I just wanted to crawl behind the couch.
"Mom."
As she leaned toward the television, the martini in her glass came close to slopping over the edge.
President Kennedy stayed calm. "The path we have chosen for the present is full of hazards, as all paths are -- but it is the one most consistent with our character and courage as a nation and our commitments around the world. The cost of freedom is always high -- but Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or submission."
"Shut up! You foolish man, stop this." She shot out of her chair and then some of her drink did spill. "Oh, damn!"
"Take it easy, Mom."
"Don't you understand?" She put the glass down and tore a Kleenex from the box on the end table. "He wants to start World War III!" She dabbed at the front of her dress and the phone rang.
I said, "Mom, nobody wants World War III."
She ignored me, brushed by and picked up the phone on the third ring.
"Oh thank God," she said. I could tell from the sound of her voice that it was Dad. "You heard him then?" She bit her lip as she listened to him. "Yes, but...."
Watching her face made me sorry I was in the sixth grade. Better to be a stupid little kid again, who thought grownups knew everything. I wondered whether Cross had heard the speech.
"No, I can't, Dave. No." She covered the phone with her hand. "Raymie, turn off that TV!"