Freezing People is (Not) Easy Read Online Free

her. “I’m Bob,” I said and flinched; that sounded so common.
    â€œI’m Elaine,” she replied, and I relaxed a little; maybe simple introductions are common because they work. I grabbed a metal fold-up chair and sat down next to her.
    When she wasn’t staring at the gymnasium floor, I could see that Elaine had soulful brown eyes, accenting her lovely face that wasn’t covered with makeup. As I asked her questions, she gave longer and longer responses, smiled more, and stopped tugging on the hem of her yellow skirt. After thirty minutes I mustered the courage to ask Elaine to dance. The band was playing “I Miss You So”; a slow one was easier for a novice like me. By the end of the song, I was plunged into the throes of new love for this delicate hummingbird. We talked all night and danced a few more times.
    The following Sunday I took her to the movies, and afterwards she was my girlfriend. We were together every possible minute without raising my parents’ suspicions. Elaine was my rock, my proof of beauty and integrity, and the calm I never got at home. It seemed odd I had to wait until I was fifteen to discover the peace and serenity that I could find only in her arms.
    Near the end of the following summer, my father informed me that our family would go on vacation to a beach resort in Massachusetts. I fought to stay home; the idea of being separated from Elaine by hundreds of miles for several weeks was unbearable to me. Of course Big John won the battle, and I sulked in the backseat during the long car ride to Nantasket Beach.
    We had only been there for three days, and I was missing Elaine. Big John was overbearing as always. I escaped our oceanfront condo and his bellowing voice and headed for the Nantasket pier. I planned to launch my tiny rowboat at the pier, hoping to peacefully click off the time until this imprisoning vacation was over and I could return to Elaine. However, Big John had alternate plans for me—and my face.
    I was talking to a pretty girl near the launch dock when I saw him darting toward me. He had given me strict orders against flirting with girls. He was gritting his teeth and readying both his fists. Most of the time he was a gentle giant, but he also had a foul temper and was prone to violence.
    Dad was strong, but I had speed on my side. I wasn’t about to stand there and get my ass kicked. A walrus couldn’t catch a fox. Watching his oncoming charge, I simply leaped over the pier railing and landed in the water twenty feet below.
    â€œGet out of the ocean and into my damn car,” Big John bellowed as I treaded water in the surf. I ignored him, just wanting to enjoy the warm sunlight at the pier. Suddenly his voice softened, “Bobby, please. Get into the car . . . please. And nothing will happen. Everything will be fine; we’ll just talk. I promise.” I acquiesced and trudged to his Cadillac.
    That’s when I learned that a gangster has no respect for his own word or anyone else’s. As I closed the car door, his thick bicep punched me in the jaw. My head ricocheted against the passenger window and I tasted the metallic tinge of blood mixing with the salty remnants of ocean water. He started the car for home without a word. Something transformed in me in that moment—an assured knowing that he would never humiliate me again. Big John had battered me for the last time.
    We were traveling about forty miles per hour, but I opened the door and tumbled out of the car onto the street. I rolled over several times, feeling the sharp gravel biting at my arms and stomach and through my pants. I heard the brakes screech, but Big John didn’t stop. I managed to stand and, although dizzy and disoriented, ran like someone chasing freedom. I never looked back. I wanted that image to stay forever with Big John—me running away in his rearview mirror.
    While Big John might have terrified the underworld, I was Fast Bob;