lay down on top of the blanket, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
âRosie,â Coltâs mother asked her stepson in puzzled tones a few days later, âwhy are you sleeping on top of your bed instead of in it? Is something wrong?â
âNah. I just feel like it.â
Meanwhile, Colt had dropped Rosieâs jockstrap down behind the dresser, spilled Kool-Aid in his running shoes (âOops! Sorry, Rosieâ), 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 Rosieâs 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 hadnât 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 Rosieâs 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 bedâheadfirst, balancing on his arms, as always. He did not want to use his scooter board, which was too noisy, despite Rosieâs 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 easilyâhis motherâs âFast-Action Foam Hair Remover.â 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 Rosieâs bed, pointed the hair-remover nozzle downward, and squirted the stinky foam on his stepbrotherâs 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 Rosieâs 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 Rosieâs shins and the fronts of Rosieâs thighs. In Coltâs 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 Rosieâs 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.
âLie still,â Colt ordered him cheerfully. âIâm almost done.â
Rosie did in fact hold still for a moment longer, too startled to react. But then, with a yell of despairâthe throaty bellow of a person pushed past his limitsâhe 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 â¦
This is it. Iâve gone too far. Iâm gonna die .
But Rosie stopped just short of him, hands shaking in the air.
âYou!â Rosie screamed. âYouââ And then Rosie choked back the words.
âGo ahead!â All of Coltâs terror suddenly
Lawrence Anthony, Graham Spence