'Not at all,' Roger said in that same kind, low voice. 'I have a foreman at the mill in Sussex who won't light three on a match, but that doesn't make him a bad foreman. I have friends who are devoutly religious, and although I don't go to church myself, they're still my friends. Your belief that you can see into the future or sight things at a distance never entered into my judgment of whether or not to hire ......... that isn't quite true. It never entered into it once I'd decided that it wouldn't interfere with your ability to do a good job with Chuck. It hasn't. But I no more believe that Cathy's is going to burn down tonight than I believe the moon is green cheese.'
'I'm not a liar, just crazy,' Johnny said. In a dull sort of way, it was interesting. Roger Dussault and many of the people who wrote Johnny letters had accused him of trickery, but Chatsworth was the first to accuse him of having a Jeanne d'Arc complex.
'Not that, either,' Roger said. 'You're a young man who was involved in a terrible accident and who has fought his way back against terrible odds at what has probably been a terrible price. That isn't a thing I'd ever flap my jaw about freely, Johnny, but if any of those people out there on the lawn - including Patty's mother - want to jump to a lot of stupid conclusions they'll be invited to shut their mouths about things they don't understand.'
'Cathy's,' Johnny said suddenly. 'How did I know the name, then? And how did I know it wasn't someone's house?'
'From Chuck. He's talked about the party a lot this week.'
'Not to me.'
Roger shrugged. 'Maybe he said something to Shelley or me while you were in earshot. Your subconscious happened to pick it up and file it away...
'That's right,' Johnny said bitterly. 'Anything we don't understand, anything that doesn't fit into our scheme of the way things are, we'll just file it under S for subconscious, right? The twentieth-century god. How many times have you done that when something ran counter to your pragmatic view of the world, Roger?'
Roger's eyes might have flickered a little - or it might have been imagination.
'You associated lightning with the thunderstorm that's coming,' he said. 'Don't you see that? It's perfectly sim . -.
'Listen,' Johnny said. 'I'm telling you this as simply as I can. That place is going to be struck by lightning. It's going to burn down. Keep Chuck home.'
Ah, God, the headache was coming for him. Coming like a tiger. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it unsteadily.
'Johnny, you've been pushing much too hard.'
'Keep him home,' Johnny repeated.
'It's his decision, and I wouldn't presume to make it for him. He's free, white, and eighteen.'
There was a tap at the door. 'Johnny?'
'Come in,' Johnny said, and Chuck himself came in. He looked worried.
'How are you?' Chuck asked.
'I'm all right,' Johnny said. 'I've got a headache, that's all. Chuck ... please stay away from that place tonight. I'm asking you as a friend. Whether you think like your dad or not. Please.'
'No problem, man,' Chuck said cheerfully, and whumped down on the sofa. He hooked a hassock over with one foot. 'Couldn't drag Patty within a mile of that place with a twenty-foot towin chain. You put a scare into her.'
'I'm sorry,' Johnny said. He felt sick and chilly with relief. 'I'm sorry but I'm glad.'
'You had some kind of a flash, didn't you?' Chuck looked at Johnny, then at his father, and then slowly back to Johnny. 'I felt it. It was bad.'
'Sometimes people do. I understand it's sort of nasty.'
'Well, I wouldn't want it to happen again,' Chuck said. 'But hey... that place isn't really going to burn down, is it?'
'Yes,' Johnny said. 'You want to just keep away.'
'But...' He looked at his father, troubled. 'The senior class reserved the whole damn place. The school encourages that, you know. It's safer than twenty or thirty different parties and a lot of people drinking on the back roads: There's apt to be ...' Chuck fell silent for a moment and then began to look frightened. 'There's apt to be two hundred couples there,' he said. 'Dad...'
'I don't think he believes any of this,' Johnny said.
Roger stood up and smiled. 'Well, let's take a ride over to Somersworth and talk to the manager of the place,' he said. 'It was a dull lawn party, anyway. And if you two still feel the same coming back, we can have everyone over here tonight.'
He glanced at Johnny.
'Only condition being that you have to stay sober and help chaperon, fellow.'
'I'll be glad to,' Johnny said. 'But why, if you don't believe it?'
'For your peace of mind,' Roger said, 'and for Chuck's And so that, when nothing happens tonight, I can say I told you so and then just laaaugh my ass off.'
'Well, whatever, thanks.' He was trembling worse than ever now that the relief had come, but his headache had retreated to a dull throb.
'One thing up front, though,' Roger said. 'I don't think we stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting the owner to cancel on your unsubstantiated word, Johnny. This is probably one of his big business nights each year.'
Chuck said, 'Well, we could work something out...'
'Like what?'
'Well, we could tell him a ....... spin some kind of yarn ...
'Lie, you mean? No, I won't do that. Don't ask me, Chuck.'
Chuck nodded. 'All right.'
'We better get going,' Roger said briskly. 'It's quarter of five. We'll take the Mercedes over to Somersworth.'
3.