Summer on the Moon (12 page)

Socko was filling two bowls with Lucky Charms and worrying about the visit from Officer Fricke when he heard a knock on the front door. The cereal box slipped out of his hand, spraying brightly colored moons and stars across the kitchen floor. He stood frozen, cereal bits on the tops of his bare feet.

The wheelchair ticked across the tile floor. Socko heard the door open.

“What do you want?” asked the General, with his usual warmth and friendliness.

“Is … um … Socrates Starr home?” The girl’s voice was higher pitched than Socko remembered.

“Well, he’s not out parading at this time of the morning!”

Socko let out a relieved sigh. He was mad at her—but if the girl was at the door, the cop probably wasn’t.

“You must be his great-grandfather,” she said.

“That’s the rumor.”

“I’m Livvy Holmes, from across the street?”

Now she’s acting all polite
, Socko thought.
Bet she’s sticking out her hand for a neighborly shake
.

“General Starr,” the old man rumbled.

“May I come in?”

Socko dropped to his knees. Crawling fast, he tried to herd the Lucky Charms into a pile.

“Socko?” the General bawled. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

His face on fire, Socko kept his eyes down when the girl came into the kitchen.

“Hi, Socko.”

“Thanks for ratting me out.” He didn’t look up at her, but he could see her brand-new sneakers—a different pair from yesterday. They’d cost a hundred bucks, easy. “You always bust guys for wearing the wrong T-shirt?”

Her bony knees hit the floor. “That’s not what happened!”

When he looked over, she was crawling along the baseboard in front of the sink, scooping up the last few pieces of cereal. She stared at the orange star and yellow moon in her hand. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I was telling my dad about you when he got the call from the real estate agent. He sort of put two and two together.”

“And got six. I notice you didn’t straighten him out.”

She sat back on her heels. “I tried, Socko. I really tried, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

The General stuck his head in the kitchen. “What’s on the breakfast menu? Ah, I see. Sugary Styrofoam. You care for a bowl, young lady?”

“Thanks!” Livvy looked strangely grateful for the opportunity to eat sugary Styrofoam.

Socko was dumping the last few bits of spilled cereal into the trash when he heard a cupboard door open. He turned. Livvy was reaching for a bowl, and beneath the edge of her shirt he could see the pale skin of her back. He swallowed hard. He was used to seeing lots of Junebug—she wore short tops too—but seeing this much of Livvy Holmes was different. “No cereal at home?”

Just as she’d done the day before, she hid behind her bangs. “I don’t want to eat cereal at home.”

There was probably nothing but health food at her house. What a brat.

She carried two bowls to the living room and handed one to the General, who grunted and began shoveling in the cereal. She retreated to the staircase and sat on the third step, scrunched up against the wall. Socko noticed how she stirred her cereal under to get it totally soggy before she started to eat. That was gross.

He ate on the sofa, his back to her. Bowls in their laps, they chewed without talking.

Then Socko felt his neck prickle. The girl had to be staring at him. He took a quick look—but it was a false alarm. She was studying the old man, tapping her lips with the back of her spoon. “Excuse me, sir,” she said quietly, “but are you in a wheelchair due to a war injury?”

The General turned his chair a couple of clicks in her direction. “I’m in this chair due to the fact I am older than dirt. God and me were kids together. Plus, I was stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

“Started smoking when I was eighteen. Quit at sixty-eight. That was what you might call closing the barn door after the horse got out!” He hacked, then spat into the dingy handkerchief he always carried in his pocket.

“My father smokes,” she said quietly.

“Yeah? Well, tell him he’s a fool.”

“I do. All the time.”

“Huh!” snorted the General, looking at Socko. “Spunky.”

“A spunky snitch,” Socko mumbled.

Livvy turned toward him fast, her blonde hair flaring. She delivered the hurt look girls were so good at.

Everyone went back to chewing in silence.

The General’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl. “Another sumptuous repast!” He held out the bowl.

As resident slave, it was Socko’s job to hop up and take it. He stayed put.

It was Livvy who jumped up, tossed her hair over her shoulders, and held out her hand.

“Thank you,” the General wheezed.

Thank you?
Socko ditched his own bowl on the couch and strode out the front door. He had never gotten thank-you number one from the General. Let the spunky snitch hang out with the old guy; they deserved each other.

He grabbed his skateboard and launched. He didn’t have anywhere to go, so he buzzed Full Moon Circle, going around and around,
thinking about Damien and about the cop who might be the next person to knock on his door.

After his fifth lap he was hot. He figured he’d stayed out long enough. The girl must have gone home by now.

He hung a right on Tranquility Way, but he hadn’t gone far before he heard the thump of a basketball. “Oh, crap.”

She faced away from him, her feet wide apart. The backs of her skinny legs were incredibly white. She bounced the basketball slowly and deliberately, her eyes on the hoop. This was his chance to slide into his house unseen, but he wanted to watch her take a shot. She tossed it up, two-handed, and …

Not even close. The ball hit the corner of the backboard and ricocheted sideways. It didn’t have much momentum, though. It hit the ground, did one soft bounce, then rolled into the street. Instead of going after it, Livvy folded her legs and sat down in the middle of the driveway.

Socko stopped the rolling ball with his foot. “You want this?”

“Not really.”

He picked up the ball and walked it up the driveway to her. “Here.”

“It’s getting worse,” she said.

“What? Your aim?”

She looked up at him. “No, the fighting. My parents fight all the time now.”

Livvy’s idea of a fight couldn’t come close to the battles between Damien’s mom and her boyfriends. “So, go somewhere else. Close a door. You have a bedroom, right?”

“It wouldn’t help! The walls are cardboard.”

“Your dad builds houses with cardboard walls? Nice.”

She didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm. Instead she hugged herself. “This morning’s fight was the worst. That’s part of why I showed up so early at your house.”

He stared at the hole in the toe of his left sneaker; it was definitely time to make an exit. He glanced over at his house, then sat down cross-legged on the pavement across from her. “Yow!” He quickly shifted his position so that just the seat of his shorts and the soles of
his shoes touched the driveway. “Your legs must be asbestos.”

She almost smiled.

“So. What was the fight about?”

“Money. Mom acts like we’re broke.”

“Wish my family was broke the way your family’s broke. You own all these houses, right?”

“True.” She took a deep shaky breath and sat up a little straighter.

“Okay … so … problem solved.” He got to his feet.

She popped to her feet too. “You want to take a look at the vandalism? It’s somewhere near the clubhouse.”

“It’s on Quarter Moon. The cop told me,” he added when she looked at him funny.

She dusted off the butt of her shorts. “We’d better tell the General first.”

Wasn’t it his job to say that? “You getting tight with the old guy?”

“I like him. He’s nice.”

Nice?
The word must have a different meaning in “the Heights.”

Your dad thinks
this
is worth two thousand dollars?” A couple of small glass panes in the front door were smashed. The rest of the damage was in the form of spray paint spewed across the garage doors.

“Does it matter what it’s worth?” Livvy watched him closely. “Don’t you think it’s just
wrong
to do this to somebody’s property?”

“Sure. Whatever.” He turned away and started walking.

“You think vandalism is okay?” She got in front of him and blocked his path. “Socko!”

“What!”

“Just tell me why you did it.”

“Did it?” He looked over his shoulder at the blast of four-letter words on the garage door. “What makes you think
I
did it?”

“Yesterday the real estate agent saw someone running away as she pulled up, a kid in a black T-shirt.”

“Then it couldn’t have been me, could it?” He started walking again. “I was with you when she cruised by.”

Livvy hurried to catch up with him. “You were, weren’t you?”

“Exactly what did you try to talk your dad out of?”

“Prosecuting you! I told him that with your childhood … and, you know, where you come from … your family and all … I told him he should let you off.”

“But I didn’t do anything! And what do you know about my childhood? You’ve never even met my mom. She would kill me personally
if I messed up like that.” Angry, he was walking fast, but Livvy just lengthened her stride.

“I was standing up for you, all right? I was trying to
help
!” He dropped the board on the ground to skate away, but she grabbed his arm. “Sorry! I made a mistake! I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” She let go and turned away. “Oh, forget it.”

He only realized they were in front of the skeleton house when she walked through the door frame and sat down on the steps.

Socko stood with one foot on the skateboard, pushing it back and forth. This was his chance to split. But sitting with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, she looked as defeated as Mr. Marvin in his chair in the lobby of the Kludge.

“So you made a mistake, big deal. I’ll get you back for it later.” He left the board at the curb and joined her on the stairs. It was her turn to smart-mouth back, but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to do now?

“See those beams?” he asked, pointing up. “I walked across one of them the other day.”

She blinked slowly and then tipped her head back. “Get out!”

“Yeah. I did it barefoot. Those are my socks over there.” As soon as he pointed them out, he wished he hadn’t. They were shriveled and dirty. But Livvy didn’t waste any time checking out his socks. Instead, she bounded up the steps. When she got to the landing, she sidled over to the edge and stared at the floor below. “It’s a long way down, isn’t it?”

“Nine, ten feet, easy,” he said, following her up the stairs.

She placed the sole of her right sneaker on the beam, then the left.

“I didn’t say
you
had to try this.” Wishing he was holding a two-by-four for balance, Socko eased out onto a beam a few beams away from the one she’d chosen.

“You know, this is sort of like walking a balance beam.” She took another step and looked over at him. “Like in gymnastics?”

“I guess.” The only “gymnastic” equipment at Grover Cleveland was half a dozen dingy gray mats so old the padding inside had turned to concrete.

Livvy balanced carefully on one foot and raised her other leg. “Ta-da!”

“Would you be careful?” Even though she’d given him the whole first-aid lecture the day before, she was a little bit like Damien in the stupid-risk department.

“No worries. I took five years of gymnastics.”

Socko scuffed out to the middle of the span and lowered himself cautiously, his heart pounding, until his butt was safely parked on the beam. Livvy stepped toward him from beam to beam, walking lightly on the balls of her feet, then sat on the beam next to his, facing him.

Why hadn’t she just sat down where she was? She was sitting so close now that if he swung his legs, he’d kick her.

Up close, she wasn’t like Damien at all. She was a girl, and her girl-ness was beginning to get to him. “I better go now … gotta check on the General.” He pressed his palms against the beam, about to get back on his feet, but decided that if he tried to stand he’d probably get down the same way he had the last time. He already knew it would be painful, why add embarrassment?

Luckily he thought of another way. Before the city tore it down, he’d spent a gazillion hours at the park near the Kludge, messing around on the rusty jungle gym, hanging by his hands and knees, kicking his feet over his head in a flip dismount. The beams were a little close together for that move. Besides, that would be like showing off. He decided to keep it simple.

Reaching to her left, he grabbed the beam she was sitting on and let his body drop so that he hung for a moment by his arms, then let go.

“Not bad.” said Livvy as the beam she was sitting on twanged. Socko had barely straightened up from his own landing when the soles of her sneakers hit the floor. “Yes!” She threw her arms up over head. “I really stuck my landing.”

It was definitely time for him to split. Just then the phone in her pocket began playing something classical. He was turning away when he felt a tug on his belt loop.

“Wait!” One finger in his belt loop, she hit the Talk button on her
phone and pressed the cell to her ear with her free hand. “Oh, hi … Of course, Mother.” She rolled her eyes skyward. “But Mother, I didn’t storm off! I just went away … Now? Nothing.”

Socko whispered, “Ask her if she heard from the cop.”

Livvy’s finger slid out of his belt loop. “I know … but do you guys have to fight about everything?”

Socko circled Livvy, trying to get her attention. “Ask!” he hissed.

She covered her eyes with her hand. “It’s scary when you two fight.”

“About the cop?” he whispered.

She put a finger to her lips. “By the way. Did you hear back from that policeman?”

He waited to hear the news. It felt like red ants were walking on his arms.

“Okay,” Livvy said. “Good to know.”

Socko opened his eyes wide at her.

“Sure. Chinese is fine … I don’t know, just get me some dim sum … I love you too.” Livvy thumbed the End button and slid the cell into her pocket. It rang again instantly, this time with a little jingle of bells. She whipped the phone out of her pocket and turned away from Socko. “Where’ve you been, Izzard-Lizard? I’ve been trying to reach you since forever!”

He stood stunned. “Hey!” He stepped in front of her. “About the cop?”

“You’ve been cleared.” She turned away again.

He turned with her. “So—I’m off the hook?”

“That’s what ‘cleared’ means.” She looked annoyed, but after watching him for a second, her look softened. “Izzy? Two minutes. Don’t go anywhere.” She hung up and pocketed the cell. “Of course you’re off the hook. You didn’t commit the crime.”

He sat down on the curb hard.

“Socko?” She sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. “You ever know anyone who’s been sent to juvie?”

“Juvie?”

“Juvenile hall? Kid jail?”

“No. I guess not.”

“I have. Plenty.” He stared at the patch of road between his sneakers. “Some of them didn’t even do the stuff they got sent up for.”

She put a hand on his back, then quickly folded her hands and squeezed them between her knees. “Are you sure they didn’t?”

“Yeah, I’m sure! Your dad wanted to nail someone for the damages, so why not me? I fit the description.”

“Not ‘someone,’ Socko. He wanted to nail the perpetrator.” She slipped the phone back out, punched a button. “Izzy?”

Disgusted, he stood up and walked away. When she followed him, he picked up his skateboard, but listening to her talk to her friend, he wished he’d skated on ahead. He felt like he was eavesdropping on a personal conversation as she described what had happened with her parents. But they didn’t get far before she came to a sudden stop. “Is that Daria’s voice? Is she at your house?” The eager glow Livvy had been giving off since Izzy called dimmed. “Sure. No problem. We’ll talk later.”

Livvy closed her cell and slipped it into her pocket.

Their houses were just ahead. He expected her to follow him inside, invited or not.

Instead, she turned up her own driveway.

“So … bye.” He walked backwards until she disappeared into her house.

Socko and the General played Rummy 500 at the kitchen table, a Nature Channel show about meerkats on in the background.

“Another player wouldn’t hurt,” the General grumped. “What about that girl across the street? Maybe she’d pay attention to the game.”

“I’m paying attention.” Socko turned away from the five meerkats who were standing tall on their skinny back legs.

“Maybe we can talk Delia Marie into joining us,” said the General as the multicolor car pulled into the driveway.

Delia plunked a bag of apples down in the middle of their game. “Take a look at these babies! Three dollars and twenty-nine cents for twenty-six apples, I counted them! That’s less than thirteen cents each!”

The General lifted the bag off the rummy discard pile. “Bet you didn’t buy ’em at Donatelli’s.”

“Don’t even talk to me about Donatelli! He’s been robbing me all these years. I found this discount grocery store right near Home Depot—it’s like a Home Depot of food! I got two-for-one family-size boxes of Cocoa Puffs and ten packages of Ramen noodles for a buck ninety-nine.”

“Welcome to America, Delia Marie.” The General picked up a card and inserted it in the fan of cards in his hand. “But next time, buy bananas. These pearly whites?” He tapped one of his unnaturally white teeth. “Glued to my gums. One good bite and you have an apple with teeth.”

“Thanks for the mental image!” Delia carried the groceries into the kitchen.

A car pulled into the driveway across the street. In a moment a thin woman in a long black skirt and a red blouse climbed out, a plastic sack over her arm.
Must be Mother
, Socko thought. Balanced on high heels, she stood as straight and skinny as a meerkat. The bag with slashy Chinese characters printed in red on the side looked like it outweighed her.

“Do either of you know what dim sum is?” he asked, watching the woman walk up to the house.