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Cycle of the Werewolf :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 13 из 35Then he saw what was inside, and his heart seemed to squeeze up in his chest. The cellophane package was full of fireworks.
“The ones that look like pyramids are Twizzers,” Uncle Al said.
Marty, absolutely stunned with joy, moved his lips to speak, but nothing came out.
“Light the fuses, set them down, and they spray as many colors as there are on a dragon's breath. The tubes with the thin sticks coming out of them are bottle-rockets. Put them in an empty Coke bottle and up they go. The little ones are fountains. There are two Roman candles… and of course, a package of firecrackers. But you better set those off tomorrow.”
Uncle Al cast an eye toward the noises coming from the pool.
“Thank you!” Marty was finally able to gasp. “Thank you, Uncle Al!”
“Just keep mum about where you got them,” Uncle Al said. “A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse, right?”
“Right, right,” Marty babbled, although he had no idea what nods, winks, and blind horses had to do with fireworks. “But are you sure you don't want them, Uncle Al?”
“I can get more,” Uncle Al said. “I know a guy over in Bridgton. He'll be doing business until it gets dark.” He put a hand on Marty's head. “You keep your Fourth after everyone else goes to bed. Don't shoot off any of the noisy ones and wake them all up. And for Christ's sake don't blow your hand off, or my big sis will never speak to me again.”
Then Uncle Al laughed and climbed into his car and roared the engine into life. He raised his hand in a half-salute to Marty and then was gone while Marty was still trying to stutter his thanks. He sat there for a moment looking after his uncle, swallowing hard to keep from crying. Then he put the packet of fireworks into his shirt and buzzed back to the house and his room. In his mind he was already waiting for night to come and everyone to be asleep.
He is the first one in bed that night. His mother comes in and kisses him goodnight (brusquely, not looking at his sticklike legs under the sheet). “You okay, Marty?”
“Yes, mom.”
She pauses, as if to say something more, and then gives her head a little shake. She leaves.
His sister Kate comes in. She doesn't kiss him; merely leans her head close to his neck so he can smell the chlorine in her hair and she whispers: “See? you don't always get what you want just because you're a cripple.”
“You might be surprised what I get,” he says softly, and she regards him for a moment with narrow suspicion before going out.
His father comes in last and sits on the side of Marty's bed.
“The ones that look like pyramids are Twizzers,” Uncle Al said.
Marty, absolutely stunned with joy, moved his lips to speak, but nothing came out.
“Light the fuses, set them down, and they spray as many colors as there are on a dragon's breath. The tubes with the thin sticks coming out of them are bottle-rockets. Put them in an empty Coke bottle and up they go. The little ones are fountains. There are two Roman candles… and of course, a package of firecrackers. But you better set those off tomorrow.”
Uncle Al cast an eye toward the noises coming from the pool.
“Thank you!” Marty was finally able to gasp. “Thank you, Uncle Al!”
“Just keep mum about where you got them,” Uncle Al said. “A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse, right?”
“Right, right,” Marty babbled, although he had no idea what nods, winks, and blind horses had to do with fireworks. “But are you sure you don't want them, Uncle Al?”
“I can get more,” Uncle Al said. “I know a guy over in Bridgton. He'll be doing business until it gets dark.” He put a hand on Marty's head. “You keep your Fourth after everyone else goes to bed. Don't shoot off any of the noisy ones and wake them all up. And for Christ's sake don't blow your hand off, or my big sis will never speak to me again.”
Then Uncle Al laughed and climbed into his car and roared the engine into life. He raised his hand in a half-salute to Marty and then was gone while Marty was still trying to stutter his thanks. He sat there for a moment looking after his uncle, swallowing hard to keep from crying. Then he put the packet of fireworks into his shirt and buzzed back to the house and his room. In his mind he was already waiting for night to come and everyone to be asleep.
He is the first one in bed that night. His mother comes in and kisses him goodnight (brusquely, not looking at his sticklike legs under the sheet). “You okay, Marty?”
“Yes, mom.”
She pauses, as if to say something more, and then gives her head a little shake. She leaves.
His sister Kate comes in. She doesn't kiss him; merely leans her head close to his neck so he can smell the chlorine in her hair and she whispers: “See? you don't always get what you want just because you're a cripple.”
“You might be surprised what I get,” he says softly, and she regards him for a moment with narrow suspicion before going out.
His father comes in last and sits on the side of Marty's bed.