Fallout (22 page)

He aimed the telescope at the moon. “That big white spot is Copernicus crater. And that round dark area right above it? That's called the Mare Imbrium. It's Latin for ‘the Sea of Rains.'”

“It rains on the moon?” said Freak O' Nature.

“It was a sea of lava,” explained Why Can't You Be Like Johnny? “A long time ago, a huge asteroid hit the surface and made a hole so deep that lava came out.”

“What's an asteroid?” Freak O' Nature asked.

“It's like a shooting star,” said Johnny. “Only it's just a big space rock. People used to think they were stars because they glowed when they burned up in the atmosphere.”

I looked up into the dark. A tiny, starlike dot was moving slowly across the night sky. “Like that?” I pointed.

“Oh, my gosh!” Johnny gasped excitedly. “It's
Echo
! The communications satellite.”

“You can see it?” Ronnie asked, dubiously.

“It's a giant silver balloon,” said Johnny. “This is unreal!”

What was unreal was seeing Johnny get so excited. He never acted like this.

“How do you know it's not a shooting star?” asked Freak O' Nature.

“They streak across the sky and are gone in an instant,” said Johnny.

“And how do you know it's not
Sputnik
?” asked Ronnie.
Sputnik
was a Russian satellite.

“You can't see
Sputnik,
” said Why Can't You Be Like Johnny? “Here, everyone look.”

We took turns looking at
Echo
through the telescope. It still looked like a bright dot, only bigger.

“You know that the Ruskies sent
Sputnik
into space to prove they had a rocket strong enough to launch a nuclear bomb at us?” said Ronnie, looking at me. “Think your bomb shelter can stand up to that, Scott?”

“Pretty soon it won't even matter,” said Johnny as we watched
Echo
creep across the star-speckled sky. “Now that we can put men in space, they're going to build laser cannons that can destroy a whole city with a single blast.”

I didn't know whether laser cannons were something Johnny had read about in his Tom Swift books or something real, and I didn't want to ask because I was afraid I'd look dumb. Besides, what difference would it make? Why did they need laser cannons when they already had nuclear bombs that could destroy everything? All I knew was that for an instant, while looking at
Echo,
I'd managed to forget about war, but now it had all come rushing back.

High above us,
Echo
gradually dimmed and vanished into the dark.

“Where'd it go?” asked Freak O' Nature.

“Into Earth's shadow,” said Johnny.

We watched the sky for something else exciting to come along, but nothing did. Behind us, Ronnie was peering through the telescope. Only it was pointed across the street.

“What are you doing?” asked Johnny.

“Nothing,” Ronnie answered.

Why Can't You Be Like Johnny? aimed the telescope at the moon again and showed us some mountains and craters. Then Mrs. Sinclair came out and said it was time to go.

Outside the Sinclairs' house, Freak O' Nature went one way, and Ronnie and I went the other. Bugs zoomed crazily around the streetlights, kind of like missiles.

“Guess what I saw tonight?” Ronnie asked.

“The moon and that
Echo
satellite.”

“How about Paula's bedroom?”

“How?”

“With the telescope, dummy. Right into her window. Want to know what I saw?”

I stopped under a streetlight and squinted at him. Here we were possibly on the brink of World War III, and all he could think about was looking in a girl's bedroom. My jaw tightened, and I suddenly felt angry. Maybe because I was so scared and he was acting like he wasn't. “No,” I said.

Ronnie put his hands on his hips. “Sure, you do.”

“No . . . I . . . don't.”

Dad looks down from the trapdoor with a pained expression. “Steven, could you climb up here? Herb, would you get everyone back into the shelter, and then come up and join us?”

“But, Dad —” Sparky starts.

“You'll all be out soon,” Dad promises. “You just have to wait a little longer.”

Mr. McGovern herds us back around the shield wall. His eyes look glittery. In a quavering voice, he says, “Stephanie, make sure the kids stay put.”

Janet and Mrs. Shaw stand guard by the shield wall to make sure we don't try to sneak back into the corridor. You'd think they'd be ecstatic that we can finally get out, but they're both quiet and sad.

“Why can't we go?” Sparky asks.

“Soon, I promise.” Mrs. Shaw strokes his head reassuringly.

Sparky looks up into Janet's face. She nods.

Ronnie leans so close, his lips practically touch my ear. “You know what was on top of the door?” he whispers.

“Uh-huh.”

Paula's face scrunches up as if she might start to cry. Ronnie reaches out, hesitates, then places his hand on her arm. I watch their eyes meet. “We'll all get out soon,” he says, sounding just like my father.

But every second we wait feels like forever. Cold air fills the shelter, and we start to shiver. Finally Dad calls down, “Scott?”

I go into the corridor and squint in the light coming through the square above. Dad's up there, out of the shelter, wearing dungarees and a sweatshirt. “It won't be long,” he says, dropping down a box of Ritz crackers and a package of Oreo cookies. “Here's something to keep you busy. They're okay to eat.”

Back in the shelter, everyone eats ravenously. Stale crackers and cookies never tasted so good.

“Why not?” Ronnie asked.

Trouble swirled around me like those bugs around the streetlight. It was times like this when I wished Ronnie wasn't my best friend. I needed a friend I could admit I was scared to without having to worry that he'd make fun of me. “Because we might be on the verge of nuclear war. Doesn't that bother you?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Okay, forget it. I'm not gonna tell you what I saw.”

“Suit yourself,” I said.

Ronnie narrowed his eyes. “Come on, admit it — you're dying to know.”

“No, I'm really not,” I said, feeling anger and fear and resentment percolating inside me. “And you want to know why? Because we could all be killed tonight. And if we're not, you're gonna come up with some scheme to look through Paula's window again, and I'm gonna get in a ton of trouble. And you're not gonna get in any trouble because you never get punished for anything.”

“You are the biggest baby I ever saw,” Ronnie taunted. “You don't know anything, and you're afraid to find out. Go be a coward in your dumb bomb shelter. Want to know something? My dad thinks your dad's an idiot. Because there's never gonna be a war because everyone knows the world would be destroyed and no one would win. Only an idiot would be stupid enough to build a bomb shelter.”

“Well, your father's stupid for giving kids wine and reading
Playboy
in front of them and never making you do any chores,” I shot back. “And your mom's stupid because she dresses like a movie star even though she's just a mother, and she gives you TV dinners instead of real meals because she's too lazy to cook.”

“Coward,” Ronnie said.

“Spoiled brat,” I said.

“Homo.”

I balled my hands into fists and swung as hard as I could, hitting him on the arm. It must have hurt a little, but not enough. Ronnie tackled me, and we slammed to the street and rolled around, swinging our fists wildly. I knew I was going to lose, but it didn't matter. I just wanted to hit him as hard as I could. I wanted to make him pay for calling my father an idiot and for not being scared and not doing chores and for always getting me into trouble and having a home filled with so many temptations.

Even when Ronnie pinned me on my back, I still kicked and tried to hit him. If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have stolen that cheesecake or drunk too much Dubonnet or had to think about my mother's breasts and queers. I was sure that behind our backs his father made fun of my father, and that his mother was one of the ladies who stared at my mother in the supermarket.

“Break it up. Come on, boys, that's enough.” Dad's voice came through the dark.

I felt Ronnie's weight rise off me and saw Dad pulling him by the arm. I pushed myself to my feet. My right elbow stung where the skin had been scraped, and my knee throbbed where I'd banged it on the street.

“What's this about?” Dad asked.

Ronnie and I glared at each other but said nothing. Except for his shirt hanging out and one knee of his pants being torn, he didn't look like he'd even been in a fight.

“Come on, what's the story?” Dad asked.

We were silent. I knew that if I told what happened, I'd be labeled a tattletale and a sissy. Dad probably knew it, too.

“Okay, Ronnie, you better go home.” He let go, and Ronnie headed toward his house.

Dad and I started up our driveway, but I limped.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Want to tell me what happened?”

I shook my head.

“A boy thing, huh?” He smiled slightly, almost as if he was proud.

“Yeah.”

Mom cleaned my elbow and knee with Mercurochrome, which stung even more than scraping them had in the first place. She was annoyed when I said I couldn't tell her what had happened and Dad said it was my private business. I had a feeling they were going to have an argument.

I went to bed wondering if Ronnie was right and there wouldn't be a war after all. I wondered what would happen tomorrow when I saw him at the bus stop. Would he tell everyone we'd had a fight? Would he say he won or that it had been broken up before either of us could win?

Dad came in and sat on the side of my bed. “How're you feeling?” he whispered.

I shrugged. It hurt, but not as much as you'd imagine a fight would. “Mom was pretty mad,” I said.

“She's been upset about a lot of things lately.” Dad seemed sad. “It's a hard time for everyone.”

“You think there's going to be a war?”

“No one knows,” he answered.

“That's what the fight was about, kind of.”

He looked surprised. “Seriously?”

“Ronnie said something bad about you because of the bomb shelter.”

Dad let his breath out and slowly nodded. “Maybe they're right. Maybe it was a mistake. I was just trying to protect us.”

“I think you did the right thing, Dad.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Even though you got into a fight about it?”

I shrugged. “Ronnie's a jerk.”

“But he's your best friend.”

“Yeah.”

A sad knowing smile crept onto Dad's lips. “Kind of like your mom and me.”

Dad throws down clothes. Sparky and I find our own things, and the others put on whatever comes closest to fitting. Mrs. Shaw and Janet dress Mom.