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I
think
Percy
--
who
had
beat
Delacroix
onto
the
block
for
accidentally
brushing
his
crotch
,
remember
--
knew
exactly
what
was
happening
.
I
doubt
that
he
wanted
to
,
but
I
think
he
did
.
All
the
color
had
drained
from
his
face
,
and
the
blemishes
on
his
cheeks
stood
out
like
birthmarks
.
His
eyes
were
huge
and
wet
.
A
line
of
spittle
leaked
from
one
comer
of
his
twitching
mouth
.
All
this
happened
quick
--
it
was
begun
and
done
in
less
than
ten
seconds
,
I
'd
say
.
Harry
and
I
stepped
forward
,
our
billies
raised
.
Dean
drew
his
gun
.
But
before
things
could
go
so
much
as
an
inch
further
,
Wharton
let
go
of
Perry
and
stepped
back
,
raising
his
hands
to
his
shoulders
and
grinning
his
dank
grin
.
"
I
let
im
go
,
I
"
us
just
playin
and
I
let
im
go
,
"
he
said
.
"
Never
hurt
airy
single
hair
on
that
boy
's
purty
head
,
so
do
n't
you
go
stickin
me
down
in
that
goddam
soft
room
again
.
"
Percy
Wetmore
darted
across
the
Green
Mile
and
cringed
against
the
barred
door
of
the
empty
cell
on
the
other
side
,
breathing
so
fast
and
so
loud
that
it
sounded
almost
like
sobbing
.
He
had
finally
gotten
his
lesson
in
keeping
to
the
center
of
the
Green
Mile
and
away
from
the
frumious
bandersnatch
,
the
teeth
that
bite
and
the
claws
that
catch
.
I
had
an
idea
it
was
a
lesson
that
would
stick
with
him
longer
than
all
the
advice
we
'd
given
him
after
our
rehearsals
.
There
was
an
expression
of
utter
terror
on
his
face
,
and
his
precious
hair
was
seriously
mussed
up
for
the
first
time
since
I
'd
met
him
,
all
in
spikes
and
tangles
.
He
looked
like
someone
who
has
just
escaped
being
raped
.
There
was
a
moment
of
utter
stop
then
,
a
quiet
so
thick
that
the
only
sound
was
the
sobbing
whistle
of
Percy
's
breathing
.
What
broke
it
was
cackling
laughter
,
so
sudden
and
so
completely
its
own
mad
thing
that
it
was
shocking
.
Wharton
,
was
my
first
thought
,
but
it
was
n't
him
.
It
was
Delacroix
,
standing
in
the
open
door
of
his
cell
and
pointing
at
Percy
.
The
mouse
was
back
on
his
shoulder
,
and
Delacroix
looked
like
a
small
but
malevolent
male
witch
,
complete
with
imp
.
"
Lookit
him
,
he
done
piss
his
pants
!
"
Delacroix
howled
.
"
Lookit
what
the
big
man
done
!
Bus
"
other
people
wid
"
is
stick
,
mais
oui
some
mauvais
homme
,
but
when
someone
touch
him
,
he
make
water
in
"
is
pants
jus
"
like
a
baby
!
"
He
laughed
and
pointed
,
all
his
fear
and
hatred
of
Percy
coming
out
in
that
derisive
laughter
.
Percy
stared
at
him
,
seemingly
incapable
of
moving
or
speaking
.
Wharton
stepped
back
to
the
bars
of
his
cell
,
looked
down
at
the
dark
splotch
on
the
front
of
Percy
's
trousers
--
it
was
small
but
it
was
there
,
and
no
question
about
what
it
was
--
and
grinned
.
"
Somebody
ought
to
buy
the
tough
boy
a
didy
,
"
he
said
,
and
went
back
to
his
bunk
,
chuffing
laughter
.
Brutal
went
down
to
Delacroix
's
cell
,
but
the
Cajun
had
ducked
inside
and
thrown
himself
on
his
bunk
before
Brutal
could
get
there
.
I
reached
out
and
grasped
Percy
's
shoulder
.
"
Percy
--
"
I
began
,
but
that
was
as
far
as
I
got
.
He
came
to
life
,
shaking
my
hand
off
.
He
looked
down
at
the
front
of
his
pants
,
saw
the
spot
spreading
there
,
and
blushed
a
dark
,
fiery
red
.
He
looked
up
at
me
again
,
then
at
Harry
and
Dean
.
I
remember
being
glad
that
Old
Toot-Toot
was
gone
.
If
he
'd
been
around
,
the
story
would
have
been
all
over
the
prison
in
a
single
day
.
And
,
given
Percy
's
last
name
--
an
unfortunate
one
,
in
this
context
--
it
was
a
story
that
would
have
been
told
with
the
relish
of
high
glee
for
years
to
come
.
