THE RIGHT TIME TO DIE Read Online Free Page B

dropped his shoulders: it was a question he had asked of himself, and been unable to answer. Like the shadow of the Grim Reaper, the Draft hung that summer over the head of every able bodied young man between the ages of seventeen and twenty who lacked the grade point average to secure an early admission to a decent college or university. Dojcsak, lacking both in aptitude and achievement, was overwhelmed by the possibility of being shipped from Church Falls to Hanoi .
    “My old man wants to send me away,” Leland said. “To college, out of state. Says it will save me a tour of duty, being shipped home in a pine box.” Leland grinned. Dojcsak shuddered. “Rather stay on at the dealership. Old man did okay, didn’t he? So did my grandpa. Between the two of them, not even a grade school education.” Leland paused, and apropos of nothing said, “I knew her, Ed. ”
    Dojcsak turned. “You knew who?”
    “Don’t be a knob: the dead chick.”
    “Yeah, well, we all did, kind of.”
    “Yeah, well,” mocked Leland, “I kind of knew her better than most.” McMaster launched his cigarette butt into the water with a flick from his forefinger and thumb .
    “You never said,” replied Dojcsak.
    “Should I have?”
    “When it comes to chicks, you usually do.” Chicks : on Dojcsak’s tongue, the word sounded fals e.
    “I knew her, Ed, okay. Good; real, real, good. Do I need to draw you a picture?” Leland did not bother to elaborate .
    Dojcsak flushed. Turning away, he said, “She’s dead, Lee; not something I’d brag on, I were you.”
    “She put out, Ed; the chick was no angel, you know.
    “But the cops said — ”
    Before Dojcsak finished, Leland interrupted. “What, Ed? What did the fuzz say? That she wasn’t fucked? Ed-ee-oh, you’re a knob. Not that day maybe, but believe me, the chick put out; she rode the greased pony. And not only me; she had a reputation. ”
    With nothing to say, Dojcsak didn’t. Down river the celebration continued, though Dojcsak imagined Americans less in need these days of celebration than distraction, what with the recent conviction of Lieutenant William Calley in the premeditated slaughter of Vietnamese civilians at My Lai and the dour Tricky Dick Nixon appearing nightly in homes across the nation, unapologetic for the violence or the mounting civilian casualties, warning of the prospect for more to come.
    Where people had gathered, puffs of white smoke could be seen rising from a dozen barbecues ignited and set up around a perimeter of green space; a dime for a hotdog, fifteen cents for a soda, forty cents for two of each. People danced. Over the roar of rushing water, Dojcsak couldn’t hear the music, but the sway of bodies was proof enough it was there.
    Leland dragged a hand through a tangle of thick blonde hair. In profile, his good looks were undeniable. He was handsome, though lacked the generosity in his sharp features that would make him truly appealing. Perhaps, Dojcsak thought, it would come with age; and, perhaps, it wouldn’t.
    “She was fourteen, Ed. Fourteen-freakin’-years-old. How was I supposed to know? She looked eighteen to me. ”
    “Sure she did, Lee, which is why you didn’t show her off?” Dojcsak recalled an image of Shelly Hayden; the yellow sundress, the orange hair, the freckles, and the bright pink toes. Who could blame him? They had all thought her to be older. “How long were you poking her?”
    “Since summer started,” Leland answered .
    “You saw her later that day, after we split up, didn’t you?”
    “Yeah,” Leland admitted. “Unfortunately.” He seemed to consider before saying, “But I didn’t touch her, not a finger. Never had a chance. Bitch told me to piss off, Ed; can you believe it?” McMaster spat toward the river. Turning to face Dojcsak, he postured like a peacock. “Can you believe it? She told me to piss off. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? ”
    Dojcsak rolled his burning cigarette between his fingers