Page 20 of Preacher's Boy


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"Watch it!" I jumped up to grab him. I didn't want him stepping into the ice pit.

"Robbie! You scare' me!"

"Stay right by the door," I ordered hoarsely, returning to my dark spot. "There's a big hole in the floor."

"Aw right," he whispered, blinking like an owl. "You naked, Robbie," he said at last.

"Don't stare," I said. "It ain't polite."

"Sorry, Robbie. Oh." He held out a little bundle. "Willie shay I gotta bring closh to you?" His voice went up in a question.

I took a step forward to take the clothes. In the light from the door my skin gleamed white.

"You really naked," he said.

"Just gimme my clothes, Elliot, and stop staring, okay?"

"Sorry, Robbie," he said, snuffling his very drippy nose.

"Where's Willie?" I asked, dressing as fast as I could. "Why didn't he bring these himself?"

"Mr. Weshum come callin'. Willie shay he ha' go home. He tol' me I ha' to bring you closh." He looked up proudly, then dropped his eyes when he saw I was still buttoning up my britches. "I foun' you, din' I? I foun' you aw by myshel'?"

"Yes, Elliot."

"Wuzzat good?"

"Yes, Elliot."

He was staring at me again, squinching his eyes against the dark, but I didn't object since I was nearly dressed. "Wha' happen?"

"What do you mean, 'wha' happen?' I lost my clothes. That's wha' happen."

"How?"

I don't know what made me say it. I swear I don't. I guess I was just exasperated and angry and—scared. Yes, that, too. "Some kidnappers got me."

"Wha'?"

"Kidnappers. They steal kids. They thought if they took my clothes away, I couldn't escape and run home."

His eyes were wide and wild now. He peered all around the icehouse in case the villains were lurking in the shadows. "Oh, Robbie." He breathed my name. "Tha's tumble."

"Yes," I said. "Terrible."

"Worse'n bein' los'."

"Yes," I agreed. "Because kidnappers don't care what they do to you, long as they get their money."

"Wha' money?"

"The ransom money. They make your family and friends pay lots of money to get you back safe."

"Oh, Robbie," he said in his little-boy voice. "But it's aw right now. I brung your closh. You can run 'way home."

"It ain't that easy, Elliot," I said sadly. "Ain't that easy."

"No?"

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