They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “No thank you.” I smiled again. “She sure was a nice lady, wasn’t she, Doggie?”

  He said she was.

  We walked in the direction the lady had pointed out. We passed a lot more stores; one of them was a bakery.

  “Wow! That smells good, doesn’t it, Doggie?”

  He thought it smelled great.

  “I’ll bet if we go around to the back, we’ll find something to eat.”

  He agreed.

  We went around to the back of the bakery and found a whole bunch of brown paper bags. I went through them. Most of it was just old bags of flour and empty cans.

  “Oh, look!” I pulled up some potato peels and some bread. “What do you think?”

  He thought it was food. He was starving.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I gave Doggie a taste of the bread. Then I ate the whole piece. We ate some of the potato peels and some more bread. The bread was much better than the potato peels.

  We left the alleyway and continued in the direction the lady had pointed. As we walked, we looked at the stores for another good one. We were still very hungry.

  “Hey, kid!” a man’s voice called from behind me.

  I turned and saw a policeman just getting out his car.

  “Come here, son.”

  I cautiously approached him. I was scared. I tightened my grip on Doggie. “Yes, sir?”

  “What’s your name son?”

  “Uh…Stevie.”

  “Stevie what?”

  “Uh…uh…” I gulped. I didn’t know Stevie’s last name.

  “Well, never mind, son. Come along.” He extended his hand to me.

  I took his hand. He opened the front door of the police car and led me in. Doggie and I sat in the car while he went around to the other side and got in. I started to cry.

  “Don’t cry, son. I’m only going to give you a ride to the police station, so we can find out who you are and take you home. All right?”

  I couldn’t speak. I was too frightened. I held Doggie very close to my chin and stretched my neck. I wanted to look out the window, but I couldn’t see over the dashboard.

  “A lady told me you were lost,” he said.

  Oh, gosh! I thought. She wasn’t such a nice lady after all.

  “Well, we’ll be there in a minute, and we’ll get you home.”

  I knew that wasn’t true, but I knew he didn’t know that.

  We pulled up in front of the police station. It was a scary-looking place. The building was all brown stone, and ugly. There were two large globe lamps, one on each side of the front door. The policeman held my hand as he led me from the car into the building. He pushed open the front door. The room was big. There was a great wooden desk behind a black handrail; it ran the entire length of the room. There were at least a dozen policemen going and coming through different doors around the room. Someone was typing somewhere, but I couldn’t see who it was. I could only hear them. The walls were cracked and dirty.

  “Hey, Sarge! Bob captured Dillinger,” one of the policemen said.

  I looked around to see who this Dillinger person was, but I didn’t see anybody.

  The policeman continued to hold my hand until we were in front of the giant desk.

  “I think I got a runaway, Sarge,” he said to the policeman behind the desk.

  He leaned over the desk and looked down at me. He was the only policeman in the room not wearing a hat. His hair was gray and parted in the middle. He put on a pair of glasses only to look at me. As soon as he saw me, he took them off.

  “Hi, son! What’s your name?”

  “Stevie, Sarge. His name is Stevie,” the policeman said.

  “No, it’s not. Now, what’s your name, son?”

  Somehow this policeman named Sarge knew my name wasn’t Stevie.

  “Well, son?”

  I was so frightened I couldn’t answer him. I hugged Doggie a little closer and blinked back my tears. Sarge left the desk and came around to the front. He crouched down.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  I shook my head no.

  He scratched Doggie’s head. “I’ll bet your dog is hungry. Are you hungry, little fella?” he asked Doggie.

  I moved Doggie’s head up and down.

  “I thought so. We’ll take care of that in a jiffy.” He stood up and shouted out some orders to a few of the policemen who were standing around. He sent one of them to get Doggie a hamburger. He crouched back down. “Now, son. While we’re waiting for the dog’s hamburger, suppose you tell me his name.”

  “Doggie.”

  “Oh, Doggie. Now, why didn’t I think of that? And what’s your name?” he asked me.

  “Jennings.”

  “Now, that’s better. And where do you live, Jennings?”

  “Uh…” I hesitated. I didn’t want to go back to St. Teresa’s. “The Home of the Angels.”

  “Home of the Angels? Hmmm.” He scratched his chin.

  “In Brooklyn,” I added.

  “In Brooklyn?” he said. “Well!” He placed a hand under each of my arms and lifted me and Doggie in one sweep onto the top of his high desk.

  I winced in pain as he pressed some of my splinter cuts.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded my head that I was.

  “Let’s see,” he said as he lifted my shirt. “Oh! My god! How did you get these?”

  “Uh…splinters.”

  “Splinters!” He lifted the front of my shirt. Two other policemen standing near him leaned over to look. “Okay. How’d you get them?” He sounded angry.

  I didn’t answer him. I was afraid to.

  “All right, never mind,” he said. He went around to the other side of his desk.

  The policeman who went for the hamburger came in. “One hamburger comin’ up!” he said.

  Sarge took the package from him. He unwrapped the hamburger and gave Doggie a bite. “I think this is much too big for this little fella. Can you help him eat it?” he asked.

  I nodded my head yes.

  He handed me the hamburger and a container of milk. I was starving. I gobbled down some of the hamburger and drank the milk. Sarge spoke quietly to one of the policemen and made a telephone call.

  “I know you’re from St. Teresa’s, son,” he said. “It’s written on your shirt.”

  I pulled up my shirt collar to see, but I couldn’t see anything.

  “It’s in the back.”

  I remembered the nurse had given me new clothes. I didn’t know she put the home’s name on them.

  “I know they hurt you there, son, and I know that’s why you ran away. But you’ll have to go back.”

  My eyes filled with tears as I muched on the hamburger.

  Sarge came around to the front of me. “Now, son, I’m going to promise you something. I’m going to promise you nobody’s going to hurt you ever again. Will you believe me?”

  He had been so kind to me, I believed him. I nodded my head yes.

  “Good!” He wrote something on a piece of paper and stuck it in my shirt pocket. “That’s my name, Sergeant Pierce Meagher, and my phone number. If anybody—anybody!—tries to hurt you again, I want you to call me. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Oh! Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought your name was Sarge.”

  “Well, everyone calls me Sarge. You can call me Sarge too, if you’d like.” He smiled. “Now, finish your hamburger. I’m going to take you back myself. I got a few words for those people.”

  We drove away in Sarge’s car.

  “Now, how did you get the splinters?”

  I hesitated.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I just want to make sure I yell at the right person. I’ll find out anyway.”

  “Sister Barbara,” I mumbled. “She dragged me across the dining-room floor.”

  “All right,” he said. He patted my leg with his hand.

  We entered the front gate
of St. Teresa’s. My heart pounded. He flipped a switch on his dashboard.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s my dome light. It makes us look a little more scary.” He winked.

  The police car drove up the dusty road to the front of the house and stopped. As I got out of the car, I hid Doggie behind my back.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Sister Barbara doesn’t like Doggie.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t! Well, we’ll see about that!” He pushed open the screen door.

  We went into the dark hallway.

  “Wait here,” he said. He pushed open a door marked “Office” and went in.

  As I stood by the front door watching the red light from the police car flash across my face, I heard yelling coming from the office. A few minutes later Sarge came out with Sister Barbara. I couldn’t tell who was more red, him or her.

  His face softened as he crouched down near me. “Now, Jennings,” he said, “it’s okay for you to keep Doggie.” He looked up with anger in his eyes at Sister Barbara.

  “Isn’t that right, Sister!” he snapped.

  She didn’t answer.

  He looked back at me and again softened. “And if anybody hurts you here…you call me. All right?”

  “All right.” I mumbled.

  “Good!” He hugged me very carefully, then straightened up. “So long, son,” he said, and left.

  Sister Barbara didn’t say a word. She just pointed to the door she wanted me to go through and returned to her office.

  In the weeks that followed, Sister Barbara never bothered me. She didn’t speak to me or order me around. I was allowed to sleep with Doggie. I kept Sergeant Pierce Meagher’s phone number with me all the time.

  Rooster, Peter, and I played together most of the time. When we didn’t, I sat by the tree with Doggie and looked over the tops of the tall trees and thought about Stevie and Mark and Mom and home. I always kind of hoped that Stevie would come back so that I could tell him about Sarge. I was sure that Sarge would help him.

  One afternoon I was by the tree when I saw a car coming up the driveway. I wondered who it might be. A new kid, maybe, or an old one coming back. Either way, it was their beginning. I didn’t envy them.

  The car stopped. Mom got out of the car. I leapt to my feet and ran as fast as I could to her. I reached her and fell into her open arms and cried. She hadn’t died after all.

  7

  I knelt on the backseat of the taxicab and looked out the rear window. The dust from the driveway swirled up in great clouds behind the car as we drove toward the front gate. I could still see Sister Ann Catherine and Rooster waving good-bye to me, even though the dust hid them from time to time.

  “Did you have a good time?” Mom asked.

  I looked at her. I couldn’t believe she was seriously asking me that question.

  “You broke your promise, Mom.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t help it.”

  “Why do you keep getting sick?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t try to get sick…” She couldn’t talk any more than that without crying.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I just missed you, that’s all. I was afraid you was gonna die.”

  “Oh, no, no. I’m not going to die.” She hugged me. “I’m not going to die.”

  I held on to Mom the whole way to the bus station. We didn’t speak. I didn’t want her to cry anymore. When we reached the station, Mom turned to me and said, “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oh! What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you. If I do, it won’t be a surprise anymore.”

  Maybe it’s a bike, I thought. Naa. Mom could never afford a bike. Gosh, I was curious.

  The bus let us off at Fordham Road and the Grand Concourse. I held on to Mom’s hand as we walked down Fordham Road. As we turned the corner at Teibout and 188th Street, I remembered the surprise. I dashed up the stairs and ran into the apartment. There was nothing in the front hall. I ran down the hall and into the living room. George was sitting on the couch with a strange boy I didn’t recognize. There was nothing in the living room. I went into the back bedroom. Nothing there, either. I walked back into the living room. Mom smiled.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Well, what?” I scratched my head. “I don’t see no surprise.”

  “You don’t?” She laughed. “That’s Jerome!” she said as she pointed to the strange boy sitting alongside George.

  “Jerome!”

  He was very pale. His hair was brown and curly. He had a round face and a wide forehead. His cheeks and nose were lightly freckled. His ears stuck straight out from the sides of his head. They were holding up a giant pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

  I was speechless. My disappointment at not finding something like a bike faded into curiosity.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Mom asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Jerome said, and smiled.

  “Uh…my name is Jennings.” I extended my hand to him. “That’s my first name.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I know, we have the same last name.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I laughed.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “I’m nine and a half.”

  “Jerome was eleven last week,” Mom said. “We’re going to have a party for him on Saturday.”

  “A party!” Jerome shrieked. “I never had a party!”

  “Well, you’re going to have one now,” she said.

  “I didn’t get a party for my birthday,” Walter said as he came into the living room.

  “Well, you’re not sick,” she said.

  “You gotta be sick to get a party around here,” George mumbled. He got up from the couch and headed down the hall.

  “Where’re you going?” Mom asked.

  “Out!” he snapped as the door slammed.

  “He’ll be back soon,” she said.

  “Don’t bet on it,” Walter snarled. He sat at his usual spot to study.

  “Where’s Larry?” I asked.

  “He’s at the store.”

  “And Gene?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “I should’ve known. Gene sleeps all the time,” I told Jerome.

  “Well, he’s just a kid,” he said. “Do you play chess?”

  “Chess?”

  “Yeah, chess. Do you play?”

  I shook my head no. “I play checkers. Wanna play checkers?”

  “Okay.”

  I got the checkerboard and the pieces. Mom began to fix supper. Jerome told her he wanted meatloaf, so that’s what we were having.

  “It must be icky living in a hospital,” I said.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  “Oh, I thought you’d hate it. I hated the homes I was in.”

  “Well, that’s because you didn’t live there, you only stayed there.”

  I scratched my head. I didn’t understand that, and he knew I didn’t.

  “You see,” he said, “I lived in the hospital. It’s the only place I ever lived. I might hate living here.”

  “Really?”

  “Could be. I only know Mom. I met George and Walter once or twice, but I don’t know them. I don’t know you, either.”

  “But we’re brothers, aren’t we?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Uh…it means…uh…I don’t know, what does it mean?”

  He laughed. “It means more than just having the same last name, doesn’t it?”

  “Uh…”

  He laughed again. “Now I got you thinking.”

  “Hi, Jennings!” Larry shouted as he came into the living room.

  “Hi,” I said as I jumped up to greet him. “How you been?”

  “Okay. I lost my bugle.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere. Did you stay at a home?”

  “Yeah.” I raised my
eyebrows to show I didn’t like it.

  “Me too.”

  “Larry!” Mom called from the kitchen. “Will you run to the grocer’s for me?”

  “Oh, darn. Do I have to?” he whined as he left the room.

  Jerome and I played another game of checkers. He told me what it was like in the hospital. It sounded a lot like the homes, only they let you talk more. He showed me some of the model airplanes and boats he’d made. They were terrific. I showed him Doggie.

  “Aren’t you a little big to have a stuffed dog?” he asked.

  “Too big? No, I’m not too big. Doggie’s my friend. We were at the homes together. He was the only one I could talk to.” I hugged him.

  “Well, then, I guess you’re not too big. I guess you’re just right.”

  “Supper’s ready!” Mom called out. I got up to go, but Jerome didn’t.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I can’t. I’m not allowed to walk around.”

  “Never?”

  He shook his head no. “Not until the doctor says I can.”

  “You mean you gotta sit there forever?”

  “No,” he laughed. “I’ll get settled somewhere. Mom said she’d figure it out later.”

  She did. We borrowed a cot from Mrs. Clark, the lady next door, and set it up in the living room. We had to move things around a bit, but we did it. Mom took a small table from her bedroom and put it alongside his cot. We started a game of three-handed Slap Jack on his new table.

  “Larry,” Mom called. “You and Jennings better get yourselves to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

  “Oh, darn. I don’t wanna go to school,” Larry whined.

  “Why not?” Jerome asked.

  “Everyone is going to make fun of us,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause we were left back. We missed too much school last term.”

  “Why should anyone make fun of you?”

  Larry laughed a sarcastic laugh. “Are you kidding? They’ll call us dumb ox and stuff like that.”

  “I don’t know,” Jerome said. “I wish I could go to regular school. I wouldn’t care what they called me.”

  “Didn’t you ever go to regular school?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Ain’t you gonna go to school now?” Larry asked.

  He again shook his head no.

  “How you gonna learn anything?”

  “I’ll have to have a tutor.”