Johnny Gruesome Read Free Page A

and causing his brain to pulse. The two-door Cutlass Supreme idled, gas fumes spewing from its exhaust as an electric guitar screeched through its speakers with digital clarity. The car looked like it had journeyed to hell and back, with varying shades of black and gray with different textures overlapping each other like scorch marks. A giant skull leered from a concentrated inferno airbrushed on the hood.
    The Death Mobile
.
    As Eric passed the front bumper, the car lurched forward, like a panther poised to strike, then settled back on its haunches. Pretending not to notice, he opened the passenger door just as the guitar solo climaxed over the CD player, an orgy of self-indulgent showmanship. He dropped into the seat, feeling cold vinyl through his jeans. Setting his gym bag across his knees, he heaved the door shut and buckled his seat belt. The interior reeked of gasoline, fast food, and stale cigarette smoke. It repelled the sunlight.
    Beside him, long fingers jeweled in silver skull rings drummed the steering wheel like crawling spiders, keeping time with the torturous beat. A shiny mane of long black hair, parted on the left, turned to him. Thin lips pulled back into a wicked grin, dark eyes glinting.
    “Good morning, Erica.”
    Eric stared back. “How’s it going, Jenny?”
    Laughing, Johnny backed the Death Mobile out of the driveway. He shifted the car into gear and stepped on the gas, causing them to rocket forward, snow and ice spraying out from beneath spinning rear wheels. Eric glimpsed his mother watching them from the living room picture window, stern disapproval on her tight face. Speeding down Maple Street, they passed elegant houses separated by narrow yards.
    “Maybe you could slow down? People do know me around here.”
    “Everyone knows everyone in this pissant town.” Johnny eased up on the gas. “There. Your reputation’s safe.”
    Eric opened his bag, took out a spiral notebook, tore out a page. “Here’s your homework.”
    Johnny aimed a sideways glance at the sloppy, handwritten page. “Damn, boy.”
    “You want it to look believable, don’t you?”
    “Depends. What am I getting?”
    “B-minus.”
    “I could have done better than that myself.”
    “So do it yourself next time.”
    “You think reverse psychology will work on me? I’ll take your shit grade. At least I’m passing.”
    Eric said nothing. Johnny made a right onto Garden Street, where older houses stood farther apart and had deeper front yards.
    “You’re getting grouchy,” Johnny said. “I think it’s sexual frustration. You need to get laid.”
    “I don’t
need
to do anything.”
    “People are going to wonder about you.”
    “Let them.” Eric glanced out the side window as they made another right-hand turn, this time onto Cherry Street, a gradual incline.
    Johnny snapped his fingers. “Hey, maybe I should fix you up with Karen.”
    “Karen’s
your
girlfriend, remember?”
    “’Course I do. I popped her, didn’t I? You never forget the ones you pop, because they never forget you. But I think you two could help each other out. You need to get laid, and she needs a good laugh. She only moans when she’s with me.”
    “I don’t blame her.”
    Releasing the steering wheel, Johnny gave Eric’s bicep a playful punch. “Keep it up, Erica. You’ll still be a virgin when you go away to college. They have secret societies that sacrifice people like you.”
    Johnny turned left onto Main Street, which dropped off before them like a waterfall, the town square coming into view a quarter mile below. The car plummeted down the steep hill like a roller coaster, and they sped downtown, passing the brick elementary school and a fenced football field. The village of Red Hill had been named after a minor yet bloody skirmish of the American Revolution that had been fought on that very hill.
    Johnny jerked the steering wheel to his left, then his right. The Death Mobile zigzagged across the lanes, and Eric slammed his