You'll Always Remember Me Read Online Free Page A

rest home.”
    â€œI was there a month,” I said. “Some crab sent me there, or had me sent. But my dad got me out.”
    â€œYes,” Duff replied, “the crab had you sent there because you poisoned two of his Great Dane dogs. Your dad had to bribe somebody to get you out, and right now he pays double tuition for you here at Clark’s.”
    I knew all this but it wasn’t anything sweet to hear coming from a detective. “What of it?” I said. “You had plenty of chance to find that out.”
    â€œBut we weren’t allowed to see your records before,” Duff answered. “As a matter of fact I paid an orderly to steal them for me, and then return them.”
    â€œWhy, you dirty crook!”
    I could see the funny twist of his smile there in the moonlight. His face looked pale and somehow far away. He looked at the cat and petted it some more. I was still shaking. Scared, I guess.
    He said, “Too bad we have to kill you, kitten, but it’s better than that pain.”
    Then, all at once I thought he had gone mad. He swung the cat around and began batting its head against the pillar in the chapel. I could see the whole thing clearly in the moonlight, his arm swinging back and forth, the cat’s head being battered off, the bright crimson blood spurting all over.
    He kept on doing it and my temples began to pound. My heart went like wild fire. I wanted to reach over and help him. I wanted to take that little cat and squeeze the living guts out of it. I wanted to help him smash its brains all over the chapel. I felt dizzy. Everything was going around. I felt myself reaching for the cat.
    But I’m smart. I’m no dummy. I’m at the head of my class. I’m in high school. I knew what he was doing. He was testing me. He wanted me to help him. The son of a ___ wasn’t going to trick me like that. Not Martin Thorpe. I put my arms behind me and grabbed my wrists and with all my might I held my arms there and looked the other way.
    I heard the cat drop with a thud to the cement, then I looked up, gasping to catch my breath. Duff Ryan looked at me with cool gray eyes, then he walked off. I stood there, still trying to get my breath and watching his shadow blend with the shadows of the dark study hall. I was having one hell of a time getting my breath.
    BUT I slept good all night. I was mad and I didn’t care about Tommy any more. Let him hang. I slept good but I woke up ten minutes before reveille remembering that it was Pushton’s turn at the bugle again. He and Myers traded off duty every other day.
    I felt pretty cocky and got up putting on only my slippers and went down to the eleven-year-old wing. Pushton was sitting on the edge of the bed working his arms back and forth and yawning. The fat little punk looked like an old man. He took himself that seriously. You would have thought maybe he was a general.
    â€œWhat you want, Thorpe?” he said. “I want your bugle. I’m going to break the damn thing.”
    â€œYou leave my bugle alone,” he said. “My folks aren’t as rich as yours and I had to save all my spending money to buy it.” This was true. They furnished bugles at school but they were awful and Pushton took his music so seriously that he had saved up and bought his own instrument.
    â€œI know it,” I said, “so the school won’t be on my neck if I break it.” I looked around. “Where is it?”
    â€œI won’t tell you!”
    I looked under the bed, under his pillow, then I grabbed him by the nose. “Come on, Heinie. Where is it?”
    â€œLeave me alone!” he wailed. “Keep your hands off me.” He was talking so loud now that half the wing was waking up.
    â€œAll right, punk,” I said. “Go ahead and blow that thing, and I hope you blow your tonsils out.”
    I went back to my bed and held my ears.
    Pushton blew the bugle all right, I never did