He didn't want to be left with Debbie, Debbie was mean to him, she always played the record player loud, et cetera, et cetera. When none of this had much effect on his mother, Tad suggested ominously that Debbie might shoot him. When Donna made the mistake of giggling helplessly at the thought of fifteen-year-old myopic Debbie Gehringer shooting anyone, Tad burst into miserable tears and ran into the living room. He needed to tell her that Debbie Gehringer might not be strong enough to keep the monster in his closet-that if dark fell and his mother was not back, it might come out. It might be the man in the black raincoat, or it might be the beast.

Donna followed him, sorry for her laughter, wondering how she could have been so insensitive. The boy's father was gone, and that was upsetting enough. He didn't want to lose sight of his mother for even an hour. And

And isn't it possible he senses some of what's gone on between Vicand me? Perhaps even beard. ..?

No, she didn't think that. She couldn't think that. It was just the upset in his routine.

The door to the living room was shut. She reached for the knob, hesitated, then knocked softly instead. There was no answer. She knocked again and when there was still no answer, she went in quietly. Tad was lying face down on the couch with one of the back cushions pulled firmly down over his head. It was behavior reserved only for major upsets.

'Tad?'

No answer.

'I'm sorry I laughed.'

His face looked out at her from beneath one edge of the puffy, dove-gray sofa cushion. There were fresh tears on his face. 'Please

can't I come?' he asked. 'Don't make me stay here with Debbie, Mom.' Great histrionics, she thought. Great histrionics and blatant coercion. She recognized it (or felt she did) and at the same time found it impossible to be tough ... partly because her own tears were threatening again. Lately it seemed that there was always a cloudburst just over the horizon.

'Honey, you know the way the Pinto was when we came back from town. It could break down in the middle of East Galoshes Corners and we'd have to walk to a house and use the telephone, maybe a long way

'So? I'm a good walker!'

'I know, but you might get scared.'

Thinking of the thing in the closet, Tad suddenly cried out with all his force, 'I will not get scared!' His hand had gone automatically to the bulge in his hip pocket of his jeans, where the Monster Words were stowed away.

'Don't raise your voice that way, please. It sounds ugly.'

He lowered his voice. 'I won't get scared. I just want to go with you.'

She looked at him helplessly, knowing that she really ought to call Debby Gehringer, feeling that she was being shamelessly manipulated by her four-year-old son. And if she gave in it would he for all the wrong reasons. She thought helplessly, It's like a chain reaction that doesn't stop anyplace and it's gumming up works I didn't even know existed. 0 God I wish I was in Tahiti.

She opened her mouth to tell him, quite firmly and once and for all, that she was going to call Debbie and they could make popcorn together if he was good and that he would have to go to bed right after supper if he was bad and that was the end of it. Instead, what

came out was, 'All right, you can come. But our Pinto might not make it, and if it doesn't we'll have to walk to a house and have the Town Taxi come and pick us up. And if we do have to walk, I don't want to have to listen to you crabbing at me, Tad Trenton.

'No, I won't-'

'Let me finish. I don't want you crabbing at me or asking me to carry you, because I won't do it. Do we have an understanding?'

'Yeah! Yeah, sure!' Tad hopped off the sofa, all grief forgotten.

'Are we going now.

'Yes, I guess so. Or ... I know what. Why don't I make us a snack first? A snack and we'll put some milk in the Thermos bottles, too.'

'In case we have to camp out all night?' Tad looked suddenly doubtful again.

'No, honey.' She smiled and gave him a little hug. 'But I still haven't been able to get Mr. Camber on the telephone. Your daddy says it's probably just because he doesn't have a phone in his garage so he doesn't know I'm calling. And his wife and his little boy might be someplace, so -'

'He should have a phone in his garage,' Tad said. 'That's dumb.'

'Just don't you tell him that,' Donna said quickly, and Tad shook his head that he wouldn't. 'Anyway, if nobody's there, I thought you and I could have a little snack in the car or maybe on his steps and wait for him.'

Ted clapped his hands. 'Great! Great! Can I take my Snoopy lunchbox?'

'Sure,' Donna said, giving in completely.

She found a box of Keebler figbars and a couple of Slim Jims (Donna thought they were hideous things, but they were Tad's all-time favorite snack). She wrapped some green olives and

cucumber slices in foil. She filled Tad's Thermos with milk and half-filled Vic's big Thermos, the one he took on camping trips.

For some reason, looking at the food made her uneasy.

She looked at the phone and thought about trying Joe Camber's number again. Then she decided there was no sense in it, since they would be going out there either way. Then she thought of asking Tad again if he wouldn't rather she called Debbie Gehringer, and then wondered what was wrong with her - Tad had made himself perfectly clear on that point.

It was just that suddenly she didn't feel good. Not good at all. It was nothing she could put her finger on. She looked around the kitchen as if expecting the source of her unease to announce itself.

It didn't.

'We going, Mom?'

'Yes,' she said absently. There was a noteminder on the wall by the fridge, and on this she scrawled: Tad & I have gone out to J.

Camber's garage w/Pinto. Back soon.

'Ready, Tad?'

'Sure.' He grinned. 'Who's the note for, Mom?'

'Oh, Joanie might drop by with those raspberries,' she said vaguely.

'Or maybe Alison MacKenzie. She was going to show me some Amway and Avon stuff.'

‘oh’

Donna ruffled his hair and they went out together. The heat hit them like a hammer wrapped in pillows. Buggardly car probably won't even start, she thought.

But it did.

It was 3:45 P.m.

They drove southeast along Route 117 toward the Maple Sugar Road, which was about five miles out of town. The Pinto behaved in exemplary fashion, and if it hadn't been for the bout of snaps and jerks coming home from the shopping trip, Donna would have wondered what she had bothered making such a fuss about. But there had been that bout of the shakes, and so she drove sitting bolt upright again, going no faster than forty, pulling as far to the right as she could when a car came up behind her. And there was a lot of traffic on the road. The summer influx of tourists and vacationers had begun. The Pinto had no air conditioning, so they rode with both windows open.

A Continental with New York plates towing a gigantic trailer with two mopeds on the back swung around them on blind curve, the driver bleating his horn. The driver's wife, a fat woman wearing mirror sunglasses, looked at Donna and Tad with imperious contempt.

'Get stuffed!' Donna yelled, and popped her middle finger up at the fat lady. The fat lady turned away quickly. Tad was looking at his mother just a little nervously, and Donna smiled at him. 'No hassle, big guy. We're going good. Just out-of-state fools.'