"Thompson, Jim - Cropper's Cabin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Jim)

"Shucks," I laughed. "Don't you know when a man's kidding? Why, if I hadn't made the football team I'd have been worse off'n you guys."
"What you mean, worse off'n _us_," said Pete. "We're doin' all right."
"Goddammit!" I yelled; and they stopped, startled. They knew I'd never cursed before. "Goddammit"--it was easy now--"stop picking me up on everything!"
"Hey," said Pete, "someone been steppin' on your tail, boy?"
"I--Pa and I had a run-in with Matthew Ontime. He's takin' our acreage away from us."
"Yeah?" Their eyes got wide. "How come?"
"Because he's a no-good son-of-a-bitch, that's why!"
"Mr. Ontime? You must be talkin' about someone else, fella."
"Goddammit, I'm talkin' about . . ."
"Yes, sir," said Pete, firmly, "you sure must be talkin' about someone else. There never was a fairer man than Mr. Ontime _nowheres!_"
The school doors were open, because of the drizzle, and we went on in. They left me on the first landing, since their homerooms were on that floor. I went up the stairs to the second. And there was Miss Trumbull, waiting for me.
She smiled and spoke, her pince-nez glasses sparkling so's you couldn't see her eyes. She was a prim, pretty strict old lady, and a lot of the students didn't like her. But she'd always been awfully nice to me.
"Will you step into Mr. Redbird's office with me, Thomas? I told him we'd be in as soon as you arrived."
"What for?" I said. "I haven't done anything."
"Certainly you haven't. Mr. Redbird knows it and I know it."
"Well, then . . ."
"Come along, Thomas." She took me by the arm, and I went along.
We went into the principal's office, and she closed the door. He smiled at her and winked at me, and we sat down on the other side of his desk.
He was dark, of course; dark-haired and dark-eyed. He taught my science class, along with being principal, and we'd always got along real well.
"Well, Tom," he grinned, "we have a terrible accusation against you. Our esteemed custodian, Mr. Toolate, tells us . . ."
"I know what he told you. Why'n't you have him here to tell me?"
"Well, now . . ."
"That awful man!" Miss Trumbull clucked her tongue. "I really can't blame Thomas for being annoyed."
"He's not worth getting annoyed," Mr. Redbird shrugged. "We have to put up with him, it seems, but-- Tom, just what was the trouble? There's been some lightfingered work around here in . . ."
"Yes, and you know who's behind it!"
"I've got a pretty good idea, yes. Tell us what happened. Were you teasing Abe--trying to get a rise out of him?"
"He tried to get smart with me," I said, "and I threw a scare into the dirty half-breed!"
"Thomas!" said Miss Trumbull. And her face went all tight and funny.
But Mr. Redbird kept on smiling. "Tell me you didn't put anything in your pocket, Tom," he said. "That's all you need to do."
"I suppose you'd take my word against his!"
"Of course I would."
I hesitated. But I was so sick inside, and what was the use anyway. "Sure you would! You'd side against one of your own kind! Why do you try to cover it up, anyway? Why'n't you spell your name right--Red Bird--instead of pushin' yourself off as a white man? Why . . ."
"Get out," he said, "get out, get out, g-ggg . . ."
Miss Trumbull jumped up in front of me. She jerked me up and whirled me around and shoved me out the door, and she sure moved fast and strong for a little old lady.
"Get your books, Thomas! You're on indefinite suspension."
"Shove the books," I said. "I'm not coming back."
And I ran down the stairs and out of the building. I heard her faintly, calling after me, "_Thomas! Thomas Carver!_" Then the bell for the first class started ringing; and I couldn't hear anything else. The sound followed me down the road, and I had to bang my ears with my palms to drive it away.
I came to the draw under the willows where Donna usually parked. I walked back in under the trees and hunkered down against a rock, thinking if I sat there awhile, maybe until noon, she'd show up. Because she had done that several times. She'd drive by the school, just before twelve, signaling with the horn. And I'd run down at noon, and we'd have as much as a half-hour together. But--but I didn't reckon she'd be here today.
Not today or any other day.
I walked on toward home, and the mist turned into a hard, chilling rain. I was soaked in no time, and I hardly seemed to notice. It just didn't matter.
Donna. Donna . . .
"_Huh-uh, boy. Never again_."
"_But I could! I could slip up there at night_ . . .
"_Yeah. And maybe get your tail shot off!_"
"_I got to try! She'd listen, anyway, wouldn't she? She'd at least listen. Wouldn't a woman listen to the only man that_ . . .
"_Listen? What'd you say to her? And suppose you could smooth over last night--after she'd bragged you up to him? What'll you say then? To hell with Pa? I'm my own man? You name it and I'll do it?_"
"_I--maybe_."
"_Not you, boy. Huh-uh_."
"You wait!" I yelled. "Maybe I will."
I shook myself. It was like coming out of a bad dream and I felt kind of rested and eased. I brushed the water, rain, I guess it was, out of my eyes. I started running, and I ran the rest of the way home.