sk.thetalisman-第88部分

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st。　Elder　Thayer's　brass　head　inclined　over　the　volume；　pointed　generally　in　the　direction　of　the　classroom　buildings。
　　Jack　took　the　right…angle　at　the　end　of　the　path。　Sudden　noise　erupted　from　an　upstairs　window　ahead…boys　shouting　out　the　syllables　of　a　name　that　sounded　like　'Etheridge！　Etheridge！'　Then　an　irruption　of　wordless　screams　and　shouts；　acpanied　by　the　sounds　of　heavy　furniture　moving　across　a　wooden　floor。　'Etheridge！'　
　　Jack　heard　a　door　closing　behind　his　back；　and　looked　over　his　shoulder　to　see　a　tall　boy　with　dirty…blond　hair　rushing　down　the　steps　of　Spence　House。　He　wore　a　tweed　sport　jacket　and　a　tie　and　a　pair　of　L。　L。　Bean　Maine　hunting　shoes。　Only　a　long　yellow…and…blue　scarf　wound　several　times　around　his　neck　protected　him　from　the　cold。　His　long　face　looked　both　haggard　and　arrogant；　and　just　now　was　the　face　of　a　senior　in　a　self…righteous　rage。　Jack　pushed　the　hood　of　the　loden　coat　over　his　head　and　moved　down　the　path。
　　'I　don't　want　anybody　to　move！'　the　tall　boy　shouted　up　at　the　closed　window。　'You　freshmen　just　stay　put！'　
　　Jack　drifted　toward　the　next　building。
　　'You're　moving　the　chairs！'　the　tall　boy　screamed　behind　him。　'I　can　hear　you　doing　it！　STOP！'　Then　Jack　heard　the　furious　senior　call　out　to　him。
　　Jack　turned　around；　his　heart　beating　loudly。
　　'Get　over　to　Nelson　House　right　now；　whoever　you　are；　on　the　double；　post…haste；　immediately。　Or　I'll　go　to　your　house　master。'
　　'Yes　sir；'　Jack　said；　and　quickly　turned　away　to　move　in　the　direction　the　prefect　had　pointed。
　　'You're　at　least　seven　minutes　late！'　Etheridge　screeched　at　him；　and　Jack　was　startled　into　jogging。　'On　the　double；　I　said！'　Jack　turned　the　jog　into　a　run。
　　When　he　started　downhill　（he　hoped　it　was　the　right　way；　it　was；　anyway；　the　direction　in　which　Etheridge　had　seemed　to　be　looking）；　he　saw　a　long　black　car…a　limousine…just　beginning　to　swing　through　the　main　front　gates　and　whisper　up　the　long　drive　to　the　quad。　He　thought　that　maybe　whatever　sat　behind　the　tinted　windows　of　the　limousine　was　nothing　so　ordinary　as　the　parent　of　a　Thayer　School　sophomore。
　　The　long　black　car　eased　forward；　insolently　slow。　
　　No；　Jack　thought；　I'm　spooking　myself。
　　Still　he　could　not　move。　Jack　watched　the　limousine　pull　up　to　the　bottom　of　the　quad　and　stop；　its　motor　running。　A　black　chauffeur　with　the　shoulders　of　a　running　back　got　out　of　the　front　seat　and　opened　the　rear　passenger　door。　An　old　white…haired　man；　a　stranger；　effortfully　got　out　of　the　limousine's　back　seat。　He　wore　a　black　topcoat　which　revealed　an　immaculate　white　shirtfront　and　a　solid　dark　tie。　The　man　nodded　to　his　chauffeur　and　began　to　toil　across　the　quad　in　the　direction　of　the　main　building。　He　never　even　looked　in　Jack's　direction。　The　chauffeur　elaborately　craned　his　neck　and　looked　upward；　as　if　speculating　about　the　possibility　of　snow。　Jack　stepped　backward　and　watched　while　the　old　man　made　it　to　the　steps　of　Thayer　Hall。　The　chauffeur　continued　his　specious　examination　of　the　sky。　Jack　melted　backward　down　the　path　until　the　side　of　the　building　shielded　him；　and　then　he　turned　around　and　began　to　trot。
　　
　　Nelson　House　was　a　three…story　brick　building　on　the　other　side　of　the　quadrangle。　Two　windows　on　the　ground　floor　showed　him　a　dozen　seniors　exercising　their　privileges：　reading　while　sprawled　on　couches；　playing　a　desultory　game　of　cards　on　a　coffee　table；　others　stared　lazily　at　what　must　have　been　a　television　set　parked　beneath　the　windows。
　　An　unseen　door　slammed　shut　a　little　farther　up　the　hill；　and　Jack　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　tall　blond　senior；　Etheridge；　stalking　back　to　his　own　building　after　dealing　with　the　freshmen's　crimes。
　　Jack　cut　across　the　front　of　the　building　and　a　gust　of　cold　wind　smacked　up　against　him　as　soon　as　he　reached　its　side。　And　around　the　corner　was　a　narrow　door　and　a　plaque　（wooden　this　time；　white　with　Gothic　black　lettering）　saying　ENTRY　5。　A　series　of　windows　stretched　down　to　the　next　corner。
　　And　here；　at　the　third　window…relief。　For　here　was　Richard　Sloat；　his　eyeglasses　firmly　hooked　around　his　ears；　his　necktie　knotted；　his　hands　only　slightly　stained　with　ink；　sitting　erect　at　his　desk　and　reading　some　fat　book　as　if　for　dear　life。　He　was　positioned　sideways　to　Jack；　who　had　time　to　take　in　Richard's　dear；　well…known　profile　before　he　rapped　on　the　glass。
　　Richard's　head　jerked　up　from　the　book。　He　stared　wildly　about　him；　frightened　and　surprised　by　the　sudden　noise。
　　'Richard；'　Jack　said　softly；　and　was　rewarded　by　the　sight　of　his　friend's　astonished　face　turning　toward　him。　Richard　looked　almost　moronic　with　surprise。
　　'Open　the　window；'　Jack　said；　mouthing　the　words　with　exaggerated　care　so　that　his　friend　could　read　his　lips。
　　Richard　stood　up　from　his　desk；　still　moving　with　the　slowness　of　shock。　Jack　mimed　pushing　the　window　up。　When　Richard　reached　the　window　he　put　his　hands　on　the　frame　and　looked　down　severely　at　Jack　for　a　moment…in　that　short　and　critical　glance　was　a　judgment　about　Jack's　dirty　face　and　unwashed；　lank　hair；　his　unorthodox　arrival；　much　else。　What　on　earth　are　you　up　to　now？　Finally　he　pushed　up　the　window。
　　'Well；'　Richard　said。　'Most　people　use　the　door。'
　　'Great；'　Jack　said；　almost　laughing。　'When　I'm　like　most　people；　I　probably　will；　too。　Stand　back；　okay？'　
　　Looking　very　much　as　though　he　had　been　caught　off…guard；　Richard　stepped　a　few　paces　back。
　　Jack　hoisted　himself　up　onto　the　sill　and　slid　through　the　window　head…first。　'Oof。'
　　'Okay；　hi；'　Richard　said。　'I　suppose　it's　even　sort　of　nice　to　see　you。　But　I　have　to　go　to　lunch　pretty　soon。　You　could　take　a　shower；　I　guess。　Everybody　else'll　be　down　in　the　dining　room。'　He　stopped　talking；　as　if　startled　that　he　had　said　so　much。
　　Richard；　Jack　saw；　would　require　delicate　handling。　'Could　you　bring　some　food　back　for　me？　I'm　really　starving。'
　　'Great；'　Richard　said。　'First　you　get　everybody　crazy；　including　my　dad；　by　running　away；　then　you　break　in　here　like　a　burglar；　and　now　you　want　me　to　steal　food　for　you。　Fine；　sure。　Okay。　Great。'
　　'We　have　a　lot　to　talk　about；'　Jack　said。
　　'If；'　Richard　said；　leaning　slightly　forward　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets；　'if　you'll　start　going　back　to　New　Hampshire　today；　or　if　you'll　let　me　call　my　dad　and　get　him　here　to　take　you　back；　I'll　try　to　grab　some　extra　food　for　you。'
　　'I'm　willing　to　talk　about　anything　with　you；　Richie…boy。　Anything。　I'll　talk　about　going　back；　sure。'　
　　Richard　nodded。　'Where　in　the　world　have　you　been；　anyhow？'　His　eyes　burned　beneath　their　thick　lenses。　Then　a　big；　surprising　blink。　'And　how　in　the　world　can　you　justify　the　way　you　and　your　mother　are　treating　my　father？　Shit；　Jack。　I　really　think　you　ought　to　go　back　to　that　place　in　New　Hampshire。'
　　'I　will　go　back；'　Jack　said。　'That's　a　promise。　But　I　have　to　get　something　first。　Is　there　anyplace　I　can　sit　down？　I'm　sort　of　dead　tired。'　
　　Richard　nodded　at　his　bed；　then…typically…flapped　one　hand　at　his　desk　chair；　which　was　nearer　Jack。
　　Doors　slammed　in　the　hallway。　Loud　voices　passed　by　Richard's　door；　a　crowd's　shuffling　feet。
　　'You　ever　read　about　the　Sunlight　Home？'　Jack　asked。　'I　was　there。　Two　of　my　friends　died　at　the　Sunlight　Home；　and　get　this；　Richard；　the　second　one　was　a　werewolf。'　
　　Richard's　face　tightened。　'Well；　that's　an　amazing　coincidence；　because…'
　　'I　really　was　at　the　Sunlight　Home；　Richard。'
　　'So　I　gather；'　said　Richard。　'Okay。　I'll　be　back　with　some　food　in　about　half　an　hour。　Then　I'll　have　to　tell　you　who　lives　next　door。　But　this　is　Seabrook　Island　stuff；　isn't　it？　Tell　me　the　truth。'
　　'Yeah；　I　guess　it　is。'　Jack　let　Myles　P。　Kiger's　coat　slip　off　his　shoulders　and　fold　itself　over　the　back　of　the　chair。
　　'I'll　be　back；'　Richard　said。　He　waved　uncertainly　to　Jack　on　his　way　out　the　door。
　　Jack　kicked　off　his　shoes　and　closed　his　eyes。
　　　
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　　The　conversation　to　which　Richard　had　alluded　as　'Seabrook　Island　stuff；'　and　which　Jack　remembered　as　well　as　his　friend；　took　place　in　the　last　week　of　their　final　visit　to　the　resort　of　that　name。
　　The　two　families　had　taken　joint　vacations　nearly　every　year　while　Phil　Sawyer　was　alive。　The　summer　after　his　death；　Morgan　Sloat　and　Lily　Sawyer　had　tried　to　keep　the　tradition　going；　and　booked　the　four　of　them　into　the　vast　old　hotel　on　Seabrook　Island；　South　Carolina；　which　had　been　the　site　of　some　of　their　happiest　summers。　The　experiment　had　not　worked。
　　The　boys　were　accustomed　to　being　in　each　other's　pany。　They　were　also　accustomed　to　places　like　Seabrook　Island。　Richard　Sloat　and　Jack　Sawyer　had　scampered　through　resort　hotels　and　down　vast　tanned　beaches　all　through　their　childhood…but　now　the　climate　had　mysteriously　altered。　An　unexpected　seriousness　had　entered　their　lives；　an　awkwardness。
　　The　death　of　Phil　Sawyer　had　changed　the　very　color　of　the　future。　Jack　began　to　feel　that　final　summer　at　Seabrook　that　he　might　not　want　to　sit　in　the　chair　behind　his　father's　desk…that　he　wanted　more　in　his　life。　More　what？　He　knew…this　was　one　of　the　few　things　he　did　truly　know…that　this　powerful　'moreness'　was　connected　to　the　Daydreams。　When　he　had　begun　to　see　this　in　himself；　he　became　aware　of　something　else：　that　his　friend　Richard　was　not　only　incapable　of　sensing　this　quality　of　'moreness；'　but　that　in　fact　he　quite　clearly　wanted　its　opposite。　Richard　wanted　less。　Richard　did　not　want　anything　he　could　not　respect。
　　Jack　and　Richard　had　sloped　off　by　themselves　in　that　slow…breathing　time　posed　at　good　resorts　by　the　hours　between　lunch　and　cocktails。　In　fact　they　had　not　gone　far…only　up　at　the　side　of　a　pine…tree…covered　hill　overlooking　the　rear　of　the　inn。　Beneath　them　sparkled　the　water　of　the　inn's　huge　rectangular　pool；　through　which　Lily　Cavanaugh　Sawyer　smoothly　and　efficiently　swam　length　after　length。　At　one　of　the　tables　set　back　from　the　pool　sat　Richard's　father；　wrapped　in　a　bulging；　fuzzy　terrycloth　robe；　flip…flops　on　his　white　feet；　simultaneously　eating　a　club　sandwich　and　wheeling　and　dealing　on　the　plug…in　telephone　in　his　other　hand。
　　'Is　this　sort　of　stuff　what　you　want？'　he　asked　Richard；　wh