by Avi
“No, sir.”
“See, I worked the neighborhood for bets on horse races. Small-time stuff. Nickels and dimes. Not much of a living. Nothing big-time, you understand. Not for Chucky. Nope, I wasn’t one of the big boys. But I got by. I did. Not bad hours either. See, my angle was I used to get all my dope on this sort of radio station I set up. A wire hookup.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Sure. At first the cops couldn’t figure how I got the results so fast. But someone squealed. Chet, take it from me. Stay on that old straight and narrow. Doing what I did — What did you call it? Public enemy. Makes me laugh. Wasn’t worth it. Believe me. Nine years in the slammer…. But I got parole when I promised to enlist in the army. What do you call this stuff?”
“Rogers’ POW!”
“You don’t say. I could use some POW!”
“There’s a model soldier in the box. I’ve got three sets, so you can have it if you want.”
“Naw. You keep it. Now look here, Chet. You have to promise me something. You have to promise not to say anything about my being here to my sister.”
“Okay …”
“I was going to call her, but I found out she doesn’t have a phone. And I didn’t want to write. To tell the truth, I’m not so good at writing. But I had to make sure. Understand? My sister and all. It’s been nine years. But you said she’s doing okay. Well, that’s a load off.”
“I brought this apple too.”
“You’re a good kid. All right. Hey, you go to school?”
“Yeah. But it’s boring.”
“Boring? Try nine years in Sing Sing. Okay, I’ll be off. Thanks for the food. And you ain’t going to tell anyone, right? That a deal? Shake on it? Just you and me. You can call me Uncle Charley. What did you say your name was?”
“Chet Barker.”
“Sounds like a movie star. That’s okay. You and me. Nice talking to you, Chet. Public enemy. I like that. Remember, mum’s the word.”
“Good luck….”
“ALL RIGHT, class. It’s time to take out our readers again. We’re going to start a whole new chapter today. It begins on page two hundred and ninety-five. It’s called ‘Bob Goes to the Dentist.’ Who wants to start off reading? Franklin, is that really you?”
“Yes, Miss Gomez.”
“Fine, I’m delighted. Have the place, everybody? You can start, Franklin.”
“Okay. ‘One sunny morning when Bob woke up, his mouth was hurting painfully. “Oh, mother,” Bob said while at the breakfast table, “I think I had better go to the dentist.” “Is something the matter?” she asked. “I think so,” Bob replied. “Well, Bob,” said his father, “have you been brushing your teeth after each and every meal the way you should if you want strong, white teeth and healthy gums?” “Oh, yes, sir, I have. You know I do.” ’ But last night after dinner I ate seven thousand gob stickers, a zillion Black Crows —”
“Class! Franklin!”
“What?”
“That’s not what’s in the book. Please read only what’s there. A writer’s words should always be sacred. They choose each one carefully.”
“Well, if I were the writer, one of those gob stickers would have this magic mixture that turns him into a gigantic head louse —”
“Class! Sheli, I think you can read now.”
“But —”
“Franklin, you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
“You probably want me to stay after school.”
“Exactly.”
“Neat-o.”
“THIS IS Thursday, Franklin. Did your parents receive my letter?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What did they say?”
“They said they would be charmed to see you at the time you set forth.”
“Charmed?”
“That’s what they said.”
“I doubt it. But whatever they said, I truly intend to be there. And you might as well know I’m going to tell them I’m recommending that you be left back a year.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you care?”
“I do. I do a lot.”
“Franklin, I mean it. I’m going to be there at seven o’clock sharp.”
“SKIPPER, it’s working!”
“Miss Gomez really coming over?”
“She kept me in after school specially to tell me she would.”
“You made her keep you in, didn’t you?”
“Had to make sure.”
“Think your parents will really be out when she comes?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t you think you better check?”
“My father’s working. And my mother promised to go to the meeting. Skipper, it’s time we headed out.”
“Where to, Chet?”
“Pearlman’s. We have to call her.”
“Who?”
“Miss Gomez.”
“Why?”
“Skipper, you know as well as I do you always have to give a final warning.”
“HAND ME the nickel.”
“You know, one of these days —”
“Shhh! It’s ringing. Miss Gomez? This is your masked friend. Everything is —”
“What happened?”
“She hung up.”
“Oh-oh.”
“What?”
“You didn’t give her a final warning.”
“Skipper, it’s a chance we’ll have to take.”
“MA?”
“What?”
“You’re going to that meeting tonight, right?”
“What meeting?”
“Ma! I told you! At school.”
“Maybe.”
“Ma! You said you’d go. You did! And, Ma, I told Miss Gomez you would. All the other kids’ parents are going. The class that gets a hundred percent attendance gets a prize!”
“I don’t know. I’m awful tired.”
“Ma, please. You have to. You can’t be the only one not going. You really promised!”
“Tell me again what it’s about.”
“About what class I’ll be in next year.”
“Why do they have to have a meeting about that? Never had one before.”
“I told you. This is different.”
“Why?”
“It just is.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“They want to give me an award.”
“A what?”
“An award.”
“Franklin, what are you talking about?”
“See, Miss Gomez picked me for the Student-with-the-Most-Potential Award. And it’s going to be on the radio. And you get a prize because you’re my mother. Ten dollars a week for the rest of your life. Really.”
“Frankie, you would exhaust a dead person.”
“Ma, my whole future depends on it! The whole future of the free world!”
“What time is the meeting?”
“I told you! Seven.”
“Well, if you’ve promised, I suppose I should. Now get off your knees.”
“TOM?”
“What’s that, Frankie?”
“How you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Feeling okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Guess what? Ma’s going to a meeting at school.”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“And Pop’s working.”
“Right.”
“And I’m supposed to be in the basement and not allowed to come out.”
“You are out.”
“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to be. So I just want to ask you if — you know — when they’re not here, what happens if someone comes to the door?”
“Nothing.”
“Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“It’s not going to be for me.”
“It … could be.”
�
�Not a chance.”
“Tom, are you going to stay in here forever?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mr. Swerdlow’s gone. You could move back to your old room, you know.”
“Frankie, I’m doing fine right here.”
“Tom, how come you’re acting like this?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People should look ahead. Accept disappointments and pay attention to the future, or life will pass you by.”
“Frankie, you are one big enormous pain.”
“Well, you’re the only hero in the whole world acting the way you do.”
“Maybe you’d better start believing I wasn’t any hero.”
“You are!”
“You know something, Frankie? If you don’t look out, one of these days I’m going to tell you what it was really like.”
“Boy … wish you would.”
“You think you’d like it, don’t you?”
“Be neat.”
“Think it’s so great?”
“Everyone knows it was.”
“Don’t be a sap, Frankie.”
“Tom, why do you have to be so different from everyone else?”
“Think I am?”
“Know so.”
“Frankie, what makes you think you know so much?”
“Because I listen to real radio, not that sappy, dumb music you play all the time!”
“Okay, kid, you’re asking for it. I’m going to tell you what it was like — but I don’t intend to say it again. Ever! You hear me? Do you?”
“Yeah….”
“Frankie, when we hit that beach, we were scared. More scared than anything. Sick scared. So scared people were pissing in their pants. Whimpering. Crying. ’Cause we could see what was coming. Just knew it would be bad, real bad. Noise was bursting from so many different directions you couldn’t hear yourself think. All you knew was that you were scared. But we hit that beach because that’s what we had to do. And guys were scrambling and crawling and running every which way so you couldn’t see nothing. People yelling, trying to be brave, trying to do what we were told. But screaming. Trying to move. Trying to use our rifles. But, see, the Japanese were ready for us. Bullets like fistfuls of pebbles coming at us hand after hand after hand. Explosions all over the place. You couldn’t think. And the next thing, blood and bodies all over. People screaming. But a different kind of screaming and crying, Frankie. A kind I hope you never hear. Then I got hit. Like someone taking a two-by-four and whacking at my leg. Wham! Wham! I got knocked down. People running over me. Stepping on me. I was sure I was dead. And I was crying for Ma, and Pop, even you, Frankie, damn it, wishing, praying to God I was home. Right here. Right where I am now. So let me tell you something: I’m lucky to be alive! Lucky to be here. You know how many buddies of mine got it? A lot. So that’s what it’s like to be a hero like me. It stinks. Because I don’t want to be told about being no hero. Load of crap! Now get the hell out of here and don’t you talk to me about heroes again. You understand? Never!”
“HEY, FRANKIE, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You look sick.”
“I’m all right.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Think Miss Gomez will come?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Close to seven.”
“Mario …”
“What?”
“I … I hope she doesn’t come.”
“What did you say?”
“It’s a mistake.”
“What is?”
“Doing this.”
“You all right, Frankie?”
“Yeah.”
“Frankie, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Something did.”
“Remember that bum the other day?”
“Yeah. What about him?”
“It was my uncle Charley.”
“It was?”
“Yeah. He’s a crook.”
“Oh, boy….”
“And another thing, about Tom …”
“What about him?”
“I know what’s the matter with him now.”
“What?”
“He almost died. Really died. Like your father. And he was so scared. Really scared. You should have heard him talk. Scared me.”
“Frankie …”
“What?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Yeah….”
“It’s about my father.”
“What about him?”
“Promise never to tell anyone.”
“Promise.”
“Swear on your mother’s mother’s mother?”
“On my mother’s mother’s mother.”
“Okay…. Sometimes … sometimes I’m glad my father isn’t coming back.”
“What do you mean? How come?”
“See, he used to make my mother cry a lot.”
“Oh….”
“Yeah….”
“Oh, man…. Mario, you know what I like best about the radio?”
“What?”
“It’s just about the only thing that makes any real sense.”
“Frankie …”
“What?”
“You okay?”
“I just wish …”
“Frankie!”
“What?”
“Miss Gomez just came around the corner. She’s heading this way.”
“Oh, no….”
“Hello, Miss Gomez.”
“Hello, Mario. Hello, Franklin. Well, Franklin, I’m sure your parents are expecting me.”
“Miss Gomez …”
“Yes, Franklin.”
“Miss Gomez, my parents aren’t here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My father’s working. My mother … went out.”
“Franklin, you told me they’d be here. I think you said they would be charmed to see me.”
“I lied.”
“Franklin, is this another one of your dodges?”
“No. Miss Gomez. I’m telling the truth.”
“Ummm….”
“Think I better go home. See you, Frankie. Bye, Miss Gomez.”
“Good-bye, Mario. Now, Franklin, I warned you. I fully intend to talk to your parents. They’re expecting me.”
“But, Miss Gomez, I just told you. They’re not here.”
“The door’s open.”
“For me.”
“I think I’d better see for myself.”
“But —”
“Mrs. Wattleson! Mr. Wattleson! Is anybody home?”
“See. I told you.”
“Franklin, I really don’t understand this. You promised they would be here. You practically bragged that they would.”
“It was all a plot.”
“A what?”
“A story. I made it up.”
“Franklin, you’re making me very angry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And nobody’s home?”
“Just my brother.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tom.”
“Is he the one recently discharged from the army?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, fine. I’m perfectly willing to speak to him.”
“Miss Gomez, you mustn’t go in —”
“Mr. Tom Wattleson! Are you there? Franklin, where is he?”
“Miss Gomez —”
“Where is he?”
“In his room upstairs.”
“Mr. Wattleson! Franklin’s brother! May I speak to you, please!”
“Miss Gomez, please! He won’t come down.”
“And why not?”
“He just won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“See, he’s all upset and — Miss Gomez, please, he doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“Franklin, do you kno
w how angry I am? I came here because I care about you and … Now I want you to go to your brother immediately and tell him I must see him for a moment!”
“But —”
“Just do as I ask!”
“TOM …”
“Frankie, I thought I told you to keep away.”
“Tom, I’m sorry, but —”
“Keep out of here, will you!”
“Tom … there’s a lady … It’s my teacher. Miss Gomez. She’s downstairs. She wants Ma, or Pop, or …”
“That’s got nothing to do with me.”
“She wants to see you.”
“Me?”
“That’s what she says. Tom …”
“Frankie, what are you crying about? What is going on?”
“Tom, see, it’s this whole plot I made up. I’m sorry, Tom. Really, I am. I didn’t know. I just wanted you to meet her, because … I didn’t know …”
“Franklin! Mr. Wattleson! Are you up there?”
“Just what the hell did you do, Frankie?”
“See, Tom, I was trying to help you and her because her boyfriend —”
“Franklin! I’m coming up.”
“Look here, kiddo. I don’t want anything to do with this dame. Understand? Not her. No one. Nothing. I don’t want to see anybody! So get the hell out of here and tell her not to come up.”
“Tom, she’s standing at the foot of the steps. I think she’s coming up.”
“Of all the —”
“Tom, there’s another way out.”
“What?”
“There’s another way out of the house.”
“What?”
“There’s a board under your bed. You can get over to Mario’s.”
“What are you talking about?”
“See, Mario and I used to go back and forth. You could do it…. But your leg —”
“Mr. Wattleson! I really must speak to you briefly!”
“Nothing the matter with my leg.”
“There isn’t?”
“Where’s the board?”
“I’ll get it. You get the window open.”
“It’s open. Now what?”
“Here’s the board. Mario! Hey, Mario! Open your window!”
“What you doing, Frankie? Did Miss Gomez leave? Did your brother —”
“Mario, shut up. Fix the board.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just do it! Set?”
