I and Sproggy

by Constance C. Greene

  “I don’t,” Adam said. “You do.”

  “We’re running out of time. School starts next week. OK. If I get to work and stay at it until about two-thirty, we can go then.”

  “Where’s Rosie?” Adam asked. He knew the answer.

  “Sproggy took her for a walk,” his mother said. “Rosalie seemed glad to go. She doesn’t get enough exercise as it is.”

  “I have to go up to Mr. Early’s to get instructions for feeding Burton,” Adam told her. “That’s his parrot. Mr. Early’s paying me a dollar per diem to feed him while he goes to visit his sister in Jersey.”

  “At those rates, I’ll be able to borrow money from you for a change,” she told him. “I’ll get back to work now.”

  Somewhat comforted, Adam put his feet back on the wall, his hands still in chains. The snapping jaws of the alligators formed an ominous ring around him. It was all he could do to stay out of their way, loose his bonds, and figure out a way to be friends with Charlie again.

  CHAPTER 9

  Adam could hear the TV going when he went up to Mr. Early’s. That must be the old bird watching his soaps. “Good boy,” Mr. Early said, answering his ring. “I told Burton you’d show up. He’s waiting for you.”

  I bet, Adam thought. I just bet.

  “Oh, no!” Burton shouted, right on cue. “Not that kid again!”

  “Behave,” Mr. Early said but in a tone Adam felt was far too gentle. That parrot needed to be put in his place. It was up to him, Adam, to do the job. It seemed wise, however, to wait until Mr. Early had gone off to Jersey to eat innards.

  “Here are the seeds and the clean newspapers for his cage,” Mr. Early said, showing Adam around. “Wash out his water dish every day and I’ll leave you the money for the grapes. And you won’t forget the TV?”

  “You can trust me,” Adam said. He looked around Mr. Early’s apartment. It was very neat and clean and sunny. The table was set for one. “Always set my table for dinner right after I finish lunch,” he said. “That way I know I have something to look forward to.”

  Suddenly he said, “I decided last night what to do with my body.”

  “Your body?” Adam said, startled.

  “After I die. I woke at precisely three a.m. I usually do. It’s a terrible time to sit by yourself and think,” Mr. Early said. “But there it is. Old people wake up in the middle of the night. Don’t know why. Don’t need so much sleep, I guess. Anyway, everything seems pretty grim at three a.m., so I decided I better think positive thoughts. And I decided to give my body to science. They might be glad to get it.” He chuckled. “My brain and eyes ought to be worth something even if I did have a stroke. Now my heart’s a different matter. The old ticker isn’t in such good shape, but those doctors might find some use for it. The brain is OK. Good’s it ever was, if I do say so. Don’t like to brag,” he said, “but it’s true.”

  Adam thought that was a cool idea. He decided he’d leave his body to science, too. Of course, they might turn it down. But he figured that would be their tough luck.

  “You want your money now or later?” Mr. Early said.

  “Well,” said Adam, “I’d rather have it now. On the other hand, I’d spend it before I even did my job. Better pay me when you get back,” he said reluctantly.

  The bell rang. Mr. Early went to answer it.

  “I say.” Sproggy’s voice rang out. “Is Adam here?”

  “Come in, come in,” Mr. Early said. “Any friend of Adam’s is a friend of mine. Haven’t had so many visitors in a month of Sundays.”

  “She’s not my friend, she’s my stepsister,” Adam said.

  “What a beautiful parrot,” Sproggy said. Burton was quiet, studying her.

  “We had a parrot named Pete at home. He was clever. Parrots are very clever, very smart,” she said. Burton smirked.

  “What do you want?” Adam asked Sproggy. He couldn’t believe she’d followed him here. “I’m arranging a business deal,” he told her. “I and Mr. Early are talking business.”

  “I wanted to know if you’d like to go to the pizza parlor with me,” Sproggy said. “Mummy gave me enough money to treat you, if you like.”

  Pizza. How long since he’d had a pepperoni pizza? The juices started to flow in Adam’s mouth. He could not only smell the pizza, he could taste it.

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got to go with my mother to get new clothes.”

  “If I were a spot younger, my dear,” Mr. Early said gallantly, “I’d go with you. But pizza, dear me, no. Have you been in America long?”

  “A week and a day,” Sproggy said. “I’m quite liking it, although I don’t understand the language completely yet.”

  “The last time I was in London, my dear wife and I walked through Hyde Park,” Mr. Early said. “It was a beautiful day after a week of rain, and there was a rainbow. I’ll always remember that rainbow.”

  “Quite.” Sproggy nodded. “Hyde Park is the most beautiful park in the whole world. Where is your wife? I should like to meet her.”

  “She passed away two years ago,” Mr. Early said, as if he’d said it many times and was beginning to get used to the sound. “She passed away on the fourth of February. February is a good month for dying, it seems. Both my dear mother and father died in February, although not, of course, in the same year.”

  “How terrible!” Sproggy said. “I’m so sorry.”

  If I don’t get out of here, Adam thought, I might kill her. If I could figure out a way, I would. Why did she have to ask Mr. Early about his wife? It might make him feel bad all over again.

  But Mr. Early smiled at them both. “That was a long time ago,” he said.

  “I have to go,” Adam said. “See you, Mr. Early.” As fast as he moved, Sproggy kept up. He ran down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. She was right behind him.

  Outside his door he stopped.

  “You are such a nerd!” he hollered at Sproggy. “You are such a super nerd it hurts my gut!”

  “We don’t have nerds in England,” Sproggy said in a cold voice.

  “A nerd has furry warts all over it, and it makes disgusting noises and smells like chicken manure.” He pinched his nose closed with his fingers so when he talked he sounded as if he had a terrible cold. “And if you ever smelled chicken manure, you know it smells worse than any other kind.”

  The old lady who lived down the hall opened her door and peered out.

  “Such talk!” she said, scandalized. “I have a mind to wash out your mouth with soap.” She shut the door, probably waiting behind it to hear if he’d call Sproggy any more names. He thought she probably would wash out his mouth. If she could catch him.

  Without a word Sproggy turned and pushed the elevator button. Adam let himself into his apartment. He felt ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t have said that to her.

  “Is that you, Adam?” his mother called. “I’m about ready.” Without answering, he opened the door and peered out cautiously. If Sproggy was still there, he’d say he was sorry.

  It was too late. The hall was empty.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Sorry I ran off at the mouth yesterday,” Charlie told Adam next morning. “It’s none of my business. But you never heard of sex equality? Women’s lib? You don’t go around keeping the ladies out of things, clubs, anymore. That’s old hat. Can’t you open up your heart to the little stranger? Just a crack?” Charlie said. “A nice, clean-cut kid like you doesn’t have to go around being rude. I think a demon got hold of you, made you talk that way to Sproggy. But now that demon’s kaput, right?”

  He and Adam shook hands. Adam thought he should’ve known Charlie wasn’t the kind of guy who stayed sore. People who stayed sore a long time weren’t as nice as those who made up with no hard feelings. It was something to remember, he told himself. He was glad to be friends with Charlie again. He wasn’t sure about the demon, though. He himself had a tendency to stay mad. He’d better get to work on that.

  “Me
and my wife Millie are signing up for our night courses,” Charlie said. “I’m taking art history, modern literature”—he ticked off on his fingers—“and French. When I get so’s I can parlez-vous like a native, I’m taking Millie out to a fancy French restaurant and ordering from that menu like I been doing it all my life. Now Millie, she’s taking math—she’s the checkbook balancer in our house—and play writing. If you hit it right, there’s a lot of money in playwriting, Millie says. We start school next week.”

  Adam sat down on the steps and watched while Charlie swooshed his mop around.

  “I just finished a very interesting story in a magazine,” he told Charlie. “About some kids who dug up a mess of gold coins worth a fortune, maybe. Those dumb kids took the stuff to the authorities, and they said the coins might be old pirates’ loot. Think of that. Pirates’ loot.”

  Charlie’s face grew still the way it did when he listened hard. He pushed his mop around slower and slower until it and he came to a standstill.

  “Then you know what happened?” Adam said.

  Charlie shook his head, waiting.

  “They told them the gold was so old it must’ve been buried hundreds of years ago, and therefore”—Adam paused dramatically—“therefore the whole lot belonged to the state. Probably if they’d been new coins they would have said they belonged to the city or something. You can’t win. You absolutely can’t win. Those guys could be instant millionaires, and they don’t even get one lousy gold coin as a souvenir. I understand they got a letter from the police chief complimenting them on their honesty. Boy, if it’d been me, I would’ve sued.”

  Charlie thought a minute. “If it’d been me,” he said dreamily, “I woulda taken the money and run. To the South Seas. Me and Millie always wanted to go to the islands, go snorkeling, eat some flying fish, wear a couple of grass skirts, all like that. In my next life, or if I should by chance win the lottery, that’s what me and Millie are going to do. Lie in the sun, take a little nourishment, rest our bones.”

  “Sounds boring,” Adam said.

  “Wait’ll you’re my age, you won’t think so,” Charlie said. “You get a different perspective on life as you approach your sunset years. Not that I’m getting close, you understand,” he added hastily. “I got a few good years left. Actually, I’m in my prime right now.”

  “What’s your prime?” Adam asked.

  After a moment’s consideration Charlie said, “It’s whatever age you happen to be at the moment. You’re in your prime; me and Millie, we’re in ours and expect to remain there for many years to come. Once you pass thirty,” he said, “you realize you’re not immortal.” Charlie started to push his mop around again. “The longer you live,” he told Adam, “the more you realize that the bread you cast upon the waters comes home to roost. If you get my meaning. If you’re nice to your step-sis now when she needs it, someday she’ll do you a good turn. One good turn deserves another. And you’ll feel good inside, Adam. That’s important. You got to treat each day like it was your last. You wake up in the morning with all your buttons, your heart still going, able to put one foot in front of the other, count your blessings. You’re able to do a good deed, enjoy life, you’re still among the living, you’re ahead of the game. That’s my philosophy.”

  “My philosophy is,” Adam began, not sure of what he was going to say next, “my philosophy is …”

  He stared intently at a point just over Charlie’s head, trying to look as if his brain were working overtime, as if he were thinking deep thoughts. He had perfected this last year while in fifth grade. He felt it did a great deal to stop his teacher from calling on him to recite because she didn’t want to interrupt a great mind at work. But his teacher had been around awhile. She was no dummy. Sometimes she let him get away with his act, sometimes not.

  “I haven’t got all day,” Charlie said. “What’s your philosophy?”

  “It’s that … my philosophy is,” Adam said, gaining speed, sure now of what he was going to say, “that kindness counts. I think I might become an humanitarian.”

  “Sounds good,” Charlie said. “What is it?”

  “A person who does good in the world,” Adam explained. “A guy who runs around improving the welfare and happiness of mankind. I looked it up in the dictionary. There was a story in the paper last week about a kid who delivered groceries to an old feeble lady in a third-floor walk-up, and she never even gave him a tip. But he kept delivering and being nice to her. Then she died and left him a bundle. A bunch of dough. Because he was kind to her, she said in a note. How do you like that?”

  “Sounds like bread cast upon the waters to me,” Charlie said.

  “But I wouldn’t forget my old friends,” he told Charlie. “No matter how important I became, how many times my picture was on TV, I’d remember all my old buddies. You and Kenny and Steve Skully. And even Sproggy.” He smiled at Charlie, who looked dubious.

  “Listen, kid, I wish you nothing but good luck,” Charlie said. “Whatever field you choose, I’ll tell folks I knew you when. And it gladdens my heart to hear you include Sproggy in your list of never-to-be-forgotten old buddies. You’re a good man, Adam. However, the time has come when the super is going to come around checking on me, and I better say farewell and buckle down.”

  Adam sat wrapped in a glow of well-being.

  “You’ll never guess what happened,” Sproggy said, bursting into the lobby. “We’ve decided what kind of club to have. Kenny and I and Steve decided, and I came to let you know.”

  The glow began to fade, gently, gradually, but fade.

  “You’re in the club now?” Adam said.

  “Oh, yes.” Sproggy smiled. “They told me I might join if I paid my dues.”

  “What kind of club did you decide to have?” Adam said after a minute.

  “A chess club,” Sproggy announced.

  “That lets me out.” Adam’s glow had gone completely. “I can’t play chess.”

  “Oh, none of us is really good at it,” she said. “But we can learn. It’s really great fun.”

  Adam stood up. “I’ve got stuff to do,” he said. “There’s just one thing. How much dues did Kenny charge you?”

  “It’s really very reasonable, I think,” Sproggy said. “He said I might join and the dues would be a quarter a week.”

  Adam put his hands in his pockets and walked in slow motion to the street and toward the river where he could watch the boats fight their way upstream against insuperable odds.

  CHAPTER 11

  I don’t care, Adam thought. He’d lain awake a long time last night telling himself that. I don’t care if they made it into a chess club without even asking me. I don’t care if they took in a girl. And I don’t even care if the girl is Sproggy. He waited for the traffic light to change. Even if they did take her to the cleaner’s and charge her a quarter dues. A quarter for joining a stupid dumb club like that one.

  He kicked out furiously at a tree. The numbing pain in his big toe made him fiercely glad. Maybe he’d broken his toe. He’d have to have a big cast on it and wouldn’t be able to put on his shoe over the cast and might not even have to go to school next week. The trouble with that was that he was looking forward to the opening of school. The first few days were always exhilarating, seeing old friends, getting used to a new teacher, a new classroom. If only school could always be like the opening days, everything would be fine.

  Adam stopped at a produce store with a large display of fruits out on the sidewalk.

  “I’m looking for some old grapes,” he told the owner. “For a parrot.”

  “You came to the right place,” the man said. His eyes were so tiny that Adam didn’t think he could see very much out of them. Apparently he could. He took Adam to the back of the store. “Just what you’re looking for,” he said.

  “They look very old to me,” Adam said, examining the lot. Even for Burton they looked very beat-up.

  “I guarantee their age,” the man said. “I’m practical
ly giving them away. They’re a real steal.”

  Adam sniffed and made a face. “You’re sure they won’t poison anyone?” he said. He wouldn’t have minded poisoning Burton in the least, but it occurred to him that Mr. Early might.

  “Poison? What’s poison?” the man said, wringing his hands at the mere suggestion that he might sell poisoned goods. “You think I could stay in business at the same location twenty-three going on twenty-four years if I sold poisoned goods? Think again. They’re a little tired is all. You expect perfection at those prices?”

  He had a point. Adam bought the grapes. Using the key Mr. Early had given him, he let himself into the empty apartment. Like a seasoned cat burglar, he tiptoed into the kitchen. The refrigerator was first on his list. Mr. Early was a light eater. Nothing inside but a wizened apple and a lemon with part of its skin gone.

  “Oh, no! Not that kid again!” Burton hollered as Adam tiptoed through the living room. That blasted bird was a better watch dog than Rosalie by a long shot. Adam thumbed his nose at Burton and continued into the bedroom.

  Mr. Early’s closet yielded no valuable camera, no binoculars in a leather case, nothing that a fence downtown would take off Adam’s hands at a fat price. The bathroom cabinet was another disappointment. No drugs other than aspirin. He was tempted to dissolve an Alka-Seltzer tablet in a glass of water just to see the bubbles but decided against it. He went into the bedroom, lay down on the floor, and peered underneath the bed. No safe-deposit box hidden there. Nothing but a button and a discarded sock.

  So much for his brief career as a cat burglar. He was obviously not destined for a profitable life of crime.

  “There you are, Burton baby.” Adam dished out some of the grapes into the parrot’s dish. “Eat up. It’s on the house.”