Colt

Read Colt for Free Online Page A

Book: Read Colt for Free Online
Authors: Nancy Springer
lay down on top of the blanket, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
    â€œRosie,” Colt’s mother asked her stepson in puzzled tones a few days later, “why are you sleeping on top of your bed instead of in it? Is something wrong?”
    â€œNah. I just feel like it.”
    Meanwhile, Colt had dropped Rosie’s jockstrap down behind the dresser, spilled Kool-Aid in his running shoes (“Oops! Sorry, Rosie”), and slimed the doorknob with shaving cream so that Rosie, who always got up around three in the morning to go to the bathroom, would find it in the dark with his groggy hand. (He got a satisfying squeak out of Rosie on that occasion.) He also left a few surprise snacks, such as Jell-O, on Rosie’s bed for him to find when he came home late from work.
    Nothing happened in response to all this except that Rosie took to turning on the light whenever he needed to move around the room at night.
    Evidently Rosie was not the sort to tattle. Colt was enjoying himself, but at the same time starting to feel desperate. Rosie hadn’t done anything mean to him. Rosie seemed to have patience that would put Mrs. Berry to shame.
    What do I have to do to get a reaction out of this guy ?
    It was the sight of Rosie’s athletic and darkly furred legs stretched naked in the summertime heat on top of his talcum-tainted bed that gave Colt his best idea yet.
    His excitement helped him stay awake. After Rosie was asleep (and Colt knew by then that Rosie was a sound sleeper), Colt started to move.
    Down off his bed—headfirst, balancing on his arms, as always. He did not want to use his scooter board, which was too noisy, despite Rosie’s sleeping abilities, so he combat-crawled. All the pushups had made his arms and shoulders strong enough to drag the rest of him along. It took a while, but he got himself to the bathroom and found what he wanted. In fact, he had located it earlier in the day and moved it to the cabinet under the sink, where he could reach it easily—his mother’s “Fast-Action Foam Hair Remover.” And a supply of damp sponges, of course.
    He had read the instructions and thought ahead, premoistening the sponges and storing them in a plastic bag. Everything he needed was waiting for him.
    When he got back to the bedroom with the stuff, Colt pulled himself to his knees at the side of Rosie’s bed, pointed the hair-remover nozzle downward, and squirted the stinky foam on his stepbrother’s bare legs, from his briefs right on down to his ankles.
    The streetlamps outside gave him enough light to work by. Using his fingers lightly, carefully, he spread the foam so that it covered the back half of Rosie’s legs. Rosie happened to be lying on his stomach. It did not bother Colt that he and the hair remover could not reach the thick growth on Rosie’s shins and the fronts of Rosie’s thighs. In Colt’s opinion, the two-tone effect would be stunning.
    He gave the foam the few minutes it needed to do its job, then removed it (along with Rosie’s leg hair) with his damp sponges.
    He had finished one leg to his complete satisfaction and was halfway through the other before Rosie woke up, grunted a wordless inquiry, and reared up on his hands, swiveling to look.
    â€œLie still,” Colt ordered him cheerfully. “I’m almost done.”
    Rosie did in fact hold still for a moment longer, too startled to react. But then, with a yell of despair—the throaty bellow of a person pushed past his limits—he lashed around and lunged at his tormenter. Colt froze, terrified, realizing too late that if Rosie knocked him down, if he landed on his back and hit his lump …
    This is it. I’ve gone too far. I’m gonna die .
    But Rosie stopped just short of him, hands shaking in the air.
    â€œYou!” Rosie screamed. “You—” And then Rosie choked back the words.
    â€œGo ahead!” All of Colt’s terror suddenly

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