The Wild Kid Read Free Page B

Billy Pryor’s father had a window like that on his camper.
    A window in the woods? That was funny.
    He saw a face looking through the window. An animal was peering out at him, an animal with long cat eyes.
    He backed away, not taking his eyes from the face. He backed and backed, then turned and ran. He dove into a bush and lay still. He heard the animal thing sniffing around. He could smell it.
    It reached in, grabbed him by the ankle, and pulled him out. Sammy’s face was in the ground. He lay very still. He heard the animal breathing, and he remembered a story of a little boy sitting in the arms of a bear. The boy said, “Don’t eat me.” So the bear didn’t.
    â€œDon’t eat me,” Sammy said.
    â€œWho the hell are you?”
    The animal talked.
    â€œPlease don’t eat my face,” Sammy said.
    â€œWhere the hell you come from?”
    Sammy opened his eyes a crack. The animal was naked, except for a pair of ragged jeans. But it wasn’t an animal. It was a person with a regular face. A tall, skinny kid with long arms and legs.
    He turned Sammy over and sat on him. He pinned Sammy’s arms with his sharp knees and held his hand over Sammy’s mouth. He kept looking all around with his big, dark animal eyes.
    Sammy twisted. The wild kid was choking him.
    He dragged Sammy through a hole and into a dark place that smelled of dirt and fire and garbage. “Let me go, please,” Sammy said.
    â€œKeep your mouth shut!” He had hair on his face and around his chin, like a goat. “Where are they? Who’s with you?”
    â€œThere’s nobody, just me.”
    The wild kid taped Sammy’s hands behind him, then taped his feet together, then his mouth.
    Then the wild kid went away. Sammy was alone in the dark, except for the light that filtered through the little window.

7

    Sammy threw himself around. He couldn’t breathe and his nose was clogged. The gag stuck to his skin.
    He was in a little room, not really a room, more like a cave. Not even a cave. More like a hole scooped out under some rocks. A torn piece of plastic hung over the opening. A scrap of dirty green rug was on the ground, and a mattress and some cardboard boxes and plastic pails.
    The wild kid came back. He grabbed Sammy by his jacket, and pushed him into the back of the cave. He knelt on his hands and knees, staring at Sammy, his face so close, Sammy could smell his stinky breath.
    Sammy stayed still, afraid to move. The kid went through Sammy’s pockets and took his dollars and change. “Who are you?” he asked. He tore the tape off Sammy’s mouth. “Where’d you come from? What’s your name?”
    Sammy licked his lips. “Sammy,” he said. “What’s your name?”
    â€œHow’d you get here?” He had a snake tattoo around his wrist. “Where you from?”
    â€œI got lost. I’m sorry I fell on your house. Let me loose, please. I’ll go away, I promise.”
    â€œWho sent you?” He talked funny. He had teeth missing.
    â€œNobody.” Sammy shook his head as hard as he could. “Somebody took my bike, and then I got lost. Can I go home now?” Sammy glanced at the snake tattoo. He didn’t like snakes. His stomach hurt, and he was sore all over.
    The kid pulled a knife from his belt and pointed it at Sammy. “You know what I can do with this?” He drove it down into his own hand.
    Sammy gasped, and the kid laughed. “Gotcha!” He had driven the knife between his outspread fingers.
    â€œThat’s a good trick,” Sammy said. He kept licking his lips.
    The wild kid stabbed at his spread fingers, again and again, the darting blade coming close, but missing each time. “You ever see anybody do that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou bet. Nobody’s got the nerve, but me. Who else is with you?” he said suddenly.
    â€œNobody. I told you.”
    â€œYou’re a