Mean Little People

by Dearth, Paige

  Carmen’s cruel words made Tony’s heart weep. Now he knew for sure that his father hated him.

  Chapter Four

  After school that day, Tony noticed the warm weather had arrived. It was a reminder that summer was on its way, and Tony looked forward to being away from school.

  “Ma, I finished my homework. Can I go outside?”

  Teresa smiled softly. “Yeah. Don’t go too far, and stay away from the place where the googamongers live.”

  Tony cringed thinking about the haunted lot a couple of blocks away. Tony grabbed his basketball off the living room floor and ran to the front door. He rushed out onto the sidewalk. Outside, the heat of the sun made Tony’s muscles feel limber. He looked up and down the block, and seeing no other kids, he felt safe. He dribbled the basketball in front of his house. Tony pretended he was a famous basketball player as he raced up and down his block, bouncing the ball.

  “Tony Bruno just did the impossible,” he said aloud, pretending to be the sports announcer. “This kid from South Philly is the best we’ve ever seen.” Tony was running and waving at the brick buildings on either side of his street. He was looking up into the sky, pretending it was filled with fans going wild over him, accepting him, making him feel liked and special.

  Tony pretended that he was dodging his opponents, making his way to the net. He stopped and dribbled the ball a couple of times. Lost in his fantasy, he turned to his right to pass the basketball to his teammate. Tony halted, as though he’d been slapped in the face. He looked around him; there was no one to pass the ball to, and he felt crushed by loneliness.

  Tony scanned the block frantically, hoping that no one had watched him. He felt ridiculous thinking he could ever be great at anything. He put the ball under his arm and slowly walked back to his house, feeling so alone. When Tony was by himself, he felt invisible. When he was with his peers or father, he was the center of attention, the human trash can to dump their frustrations into.

  Tony pulled the screen door open and walked inside, letting the basketball roll into the corner of the room.

  “Back so soon?” Teresa asked.

  “Yeah. There ain’t nobody to play wit’.”

  “Come over here,” Teresa said, gesturing to the spot next to her.

  Tony cuddled up to his mother. She put her arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

  “Ya know, Tony, sometimes kids are just mean…just mean little people. They don’t know ya like I do, ’cause if they did, they’d be standin’ in line to be your friend. I wanna ask ya somethin’ and want ya to tell me the truth, OK?” Teresa said.

  “Sure,” Tony said in a sigh.

  “Were ya ever mean to any of those boys? Did ya ever say somethin’ to ’em to piss ’em off?”

  Tony looked into his mother’s face. His brows were taut and his jaw locked tight. Adrenaline infused with a hefty dose of annoyance burned through him. He stared at her for a few seconds. Her eyes were warm, ready to receive anything he might admit to her. He could see she wasn’t blaming him for being bullied. Her warm brown eyes caressed his bruised ego.

  “I don’t know what I did, Ma. I think about it all the time. I remember the other kids didn’t like me in kindergarten ’cause I was quiet. The other boys told me to play wit’ the girls all the time. It wasn’t that I didn’t wanna talk wit’ ’em—I just like to listen more than I talk, that’s all. Then it just got bigger, Ma, and nobody wanted to be my friend. I don’t know how to stop it ’cause I ain’t never figured out how I started it. It just sorta happened.”

  Teresa pulled him closer and ran her fingers through the thick carpet of hair on his head. “Son, someday this will all be behind ya. Right now, it feels like the only thing in the world that matters. I’m tellin’ ya as sure as I’m sittin’ here that you’re gonna grow up and be a big and powerful man. Even bigger than your father, and he’s pretty big.” She paused and smiled at her son. “Here’s the thing I want ya to remember: someday when you’re on top of the world, ya gotta remember how these little pricks made ya feel. You understand what I’m tryin’ to say?”

  “Yeah, you’re tellin’ me don’t ever be mean to nobody for no good reason. Right?”

  “That’s exactly right,” Teresa said.

  “But how come Dad is mean to me for no good reason?”

  “All your father knows is that his father was hard on him when he was your age. All he knows how to do for ya is to be hard.”

  “Is that how come he’s always pickin’ on me and says everything I do is wrong? Just ’cause his dad did it to him?”

  “Yeah, Tony. It’s his sick way of toughenin’ ya up,” she explained.

  “Yeah, well, I hate his way of doin’ stuff. It makes me pissed off. Besides, he picks on you too.”

  Teresa stroked the top of Tony’s head, and he relaxed into her. Tony contemplated what his mother had told him. He wanted to believe that someday everything would be different for him…he needed to believe his mother. It was the only spark of hope left in him.

  Teresa stood up. “Tony and Macie, put on your shoes. We need to run down to the Italian Market. I gotta get some ground beef for dinner. I wanna get back here before your father gets home.”

  Tony hurried to get his shoes on. He loved going to the Italian Market; it was one of his favorite places in South Philadelphia. The three of them walked briskly to the market, and Teresa chatted the entire way.

  At the market Tony stood by his mother’s side.

  “Hi, Harry,” Teresa said to the butcher. “Ya got any cheap ground beef?”

  “Sure, Teresa. Got some in the back. Only a couple of days old, but still good if ya cook it today.”

  “I need a good deal on it,” Teresa yelled after him.

  “Ya always do,” Harry said.

  When Harry came back with the almost-rancid meat, he and Teresa got into a conversation about the sad state of the Philadelphia Eagles. While they were talking, Tony spotted three men walking on the sidewalk. They swaggered past the vendors, who waved and smiled at them. Everyone knew the men. They were the Mafia men. Tony watched them, fascinated. He had seen them in the Italian Market before. They weren’t afraid of anyone. They were the men everyone feared.

  Teresa looked down at her son and followed his gaze.

  “They’re mobsters, Tony. We don’t want nothin’ to do wit’ the Mafia. Quit staring at ’em before ya get us in a load of shit.”

  Tony smiled. Even my ma is scared of those guys. It was written all over her face. Her jaw was set hard, and she wouldn’t even glance in their direction. Tony wanted to be just like those men. A guy people respected. A man no one would ever pick on. Tony wished as hard as he could that he could be just like them someday.

  One mobster glanced into the butcher shop and saw Tony watching them. Tony’s breath caught in his chest, but he couldn’t look away. Then the mobster gave him a slight nod of the head, and Tony had his very first feeling of acceptance.

  Chapter Five

  The summer between second and third grade started like every other for Tony…alone. He sat on his porch steps and daydreamed. He played with his sister, Macie, but she wasn’t very much fun since all she wanted to do was play with her dolls. He had just finished playing war with his small green army soldiers when the screen door to his house opened.

  “Tony, the new neighbors are movin’ in next week. I want cha to clean up this porch. We don’t want the new people thinkin’ we’re slobs,” Teresa said.

  “Wow! New neighbors? Do you think they have a boy as old as me? Wouldn’t that be great, Ma? Maybe we could be friends.”

  Tony cleaned the porch with enthusiasm, filled with hope. He whistled tunes while he emptied boxes and swept away leaves from the previous winter.

  The following week Tony sat on his porch every day waiting for the new family to arrive. By Wednesday, he was deflated and lumbered into the house.

  “Ma, are these people ever gonna move in? I been waitin’ all week,” Ton
y whined.

  “Ya need to be patient. Delores—you know, the lady who does my hair? Well, she said they’re movin’ in tomorra.”

  First thing on Thursday morning, Tony sat on his porch steps. It wasn’t until after ten that a moving truck and a brown car pulled up to the curb. Tony watched intently as a family of five stepped onto the sidewalk, they all looked up at their new home. There were three kids: a teenage girl, a young boy, and a toddler. Tony rushed over to the family.

  “Hi, I’m Tony. I live right there,” he said, pointing to his family’s row home.

  The mother said, “Well, hello, Tony. We’re the Abellis’. This is Rosemary, Marco, and the baby of the family, Aida. I’m Mrs. Abelli, and this is my husband, Mr. Abelli.”

  “Nice to meet ya. What grade are ya in?” Tony asked, concentrating on Marco. The young boy had blond, curly hair and wide-set blue eyes. He was a little taller than Tony but thin as a rail.

  “I’m goin’ into third grade,” Marco said.

  “Yeah? Wow! So am I. Ya wanna play?”

  Marco looked at his mother, “Can I, Ma? Pleeeease.”

  Mrs. Abelli smiled. “Yeah, go ahead. But don’t ya go anywhere else without me knowing.”

  Marco turned to Tony. “What do ya wanna play?”

  The two ran off, and it was as though they had known each other for years. They played together for a few hours until Tony’s mother stepped onto the front porch to call him in for lunch. Tony and Marco ran up the block to where Teresa was waiting.

  Teresa crossed her arms over her chest and gave the boys a smile. “Well now. Who’s this?”

  “This is my new friend, Marco. He just moved into the Donatis’ old house,” Tony said, breathlessly.

  “Oh yeah. I heard ya’s was movin’ in today,” Teresa said, glancing at the moving truck.

  “Can Marco eat lunch wit’ us today?”

  “Sure. But first ya gotta go ask your ma if it’s OK.”

  A few minutes later, Tony and Marco rushed through the door. Teresa looked up to see the two boys, and relief washed over her.

  “You can call my ma Mrs. B, and that’s my little sister, Macie.”

  Macie gave the boys a crooked smile and buried her face in Teresa’s skirt, which made the boys laugh.

  “I bet you two are hungry from all that playin’ ya did. I boiled some hot dogs and opened a bag of chips for ya,” Teresa said.

  As soon as the boys finished lunch, they rushed back outside into the sun. They were racing down the block to see who was faster.

  “I’m really havin’ fun. I’m glad ya moved in,” Tony admitted.

  “Me too. I always have fun. In my old neighborhood, I had lots of kids to play wit’.”

  “We got lots of kids around here, but there ain’t too many that play on our block,” Tony said.

  Over the next couple of weeks, Tony and Marco were inseparable. On the Fourth of July, Tony talked his mother into taking the two of them to the fireworks at a local baseball field. Teresa sat with friends from the neighborhood, and the two boys sat on a blanket at the edge of the field. They were lying on their backs looking up at the stars.

  “When I grow up, I’m gonna be an astronaut,” Marco said, gazing at the clear sky, lit up by the bright moon and stars.

  “Wow. That’s cool. I don’t know what I’m gonna be yet. I wanna be somethin’ really great,” Tony said.

  “Why don’t cha be an astronaut like me? We could go into space together,” Marco said.

  “Nah. I can’t do that. My ma wouldn’t want me goin’ off in a rocket ship; she’d be scared somethin’ bad would happen to me. Besides, I wanna be able to have a gun. Maybe I’ll go in the army,” Tony said.

  “A gun? Yeah, that would be really cool. Maybe I’ll go in the army too. Did ya ever shoot one?” Marco asked.

  “Not a real one. Just a cap gun once. But I wanna shoot a real gun. Did ya ever shoot a real gun?”

  “Nah. My parents don’t believe in guns. They say if there weren’t so many guns in the world, there wouldn’t be so many robbers and bad people,” Marco said, rolling his eyes.

  Tony propped himself up on his elbow. “Man, look at all the people here.”

  Marco looked around and smiled. As they were taking in the crowd, the people seemed to part, and Tony saw Vincent and his friends heading straight at them.

  “Ain’t ya the new kid?” Vincent asked.

  “Yeah. I’m Marco.”

  “Why ya hangin’ out wit’ the freak?” Vincent asked. Patton and the others were standing next to Vincent snickering, an act that Marco picked up on quickly.

  “Who, Tony?” Marco said.

  “Yeah, don’t cha know everybody hates ’im and wishes he would die?” Vincent said.

  Tony’s blood pressure rose quickly, and he couldn’t contain himself. He didn’t want to lose Marco as a friend.

  “Shut up, Vincent! Me and Marco are best friends, and he don’t care what ya gotta say about me.”

  Vincent leaned over and flicked Tony in the forehead. Tony’s hand covered the pulsing sting. Everyone was staring at him, even Marco. Tony wanted to jump to his feet and run.

  “Like I was sayin’, ya better think ’bout who you’re hangin’ wit’ unless ya just like bein’ around losers,” Vincent said.

  Marco sat stunned into silence. As Tony sat next to him on the blanket, he thought about how much he liked Marco. In fact, Tony thought Marco was great, but he noticed that Vincent and his friends made Marco jittery. Tony knew the mean boys would give his new friend trouble too.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Marco managed to say.

  “You’ll see when school starts. Ya better ditch this creep now before it’s too late,” Vincent warned.

  Humiliated in front of his new friend, Tony choked out the words lodged in his throat: “I hate you, Vincent. Why don’t you leave us alone? I hate all of you.” He looked over to Patton and the other boys.

  “Oh, look, fellas, the baby is gonna cry again. If your ma wasn’t sittin’ over there, we’d show Marco how easy ya are to beat up. I told ya, Marco,” Vincent said, turning his attention to the other boy, “ya better lose this mamma’s boy unless ya wanna end up just like ’im.”

  Vincent and his friends turned and walked away, but he stopped abruptly and looked back at Marco.

  “Ya wanna come to the snack bar wit’ us?”

  Marco watched Vincent for a moment. He was already terrified of the small gang of boys and definitely did not want to be one of the kids in school who got picked on. He was torn between his loyalty to Tony and wanting to fit in.

  “Sure. Come on, Tony,” Marco said.

  “No way. Not him. He ain’t comin’ wit’ us. If ya wanna hang wit’ us that means ya need to leave the little freak here,” Vincent said.

  Tony looked at Marco. His eyes pleaded with him to stay and not give in to the bullies.

  “Come on, Marco. Stay here. We can go to the snack bar by ourselves,” Tony begged.

  Marco could feel Tony’s pain. He wanted to tell him that everything would be fine, but the fear of being an outcast in his new school overshadowed any compassion he had for Tony.

  “I’ll go get us somethin’ and bring it back. We can share it,” Marco said, as he stood and walked away with Vincent and his friends.

  Tony sat on the blanket, speechless. His guts felt like he was on a roller coaster, and a wave of heat rushed to his chest. Tony watched with bitter sadness as Marco disappeared into the crowd of people. He lay back on the blanket and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, but the tears pushed against the inside of his eyelids until they leaked their way through. He rolled onto his belly and covered the back of his head with his hands, trying to conceal his emotions and get control of the heavy sobs that were taking over. Tony’s insides quivered, and he willed himself to be calm. He took heavy, snorting breaths through his nose. As his anger grew, it pushed aside his feeling of abandonment, and his crying halted.


  Tony peered up into the bleachers where his mother was sitting; her head was bowed. Even from a distance, he knew she was crying.

  “I’m sorry, Ma,” he said to himself.

  Tony’s body jerked upright as the first of the fireworks burst overhead. He watched them without seeing their beauty. His heart was broken, and his mind was numb, lost in his solitary misery.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Marco knocked on Tony’s front door. Teresa looked at him through the screen door.

  “Hi, Mrs. B. Is Tony home?”

  “Yeah, he’s here.” Teresa paused. “I guess ya can come in.”

  The edginess in her voice caused Marco to hesitate, but he stepped into the house anyway.

  “So what happened to ya last night, Marco? Ya was hangin’ wit’ Tony, and all of a sudden ya walked off wit’ some other boys and left him alone.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. B. They’re my new friends. I meant to come back and share the candy I got wit’ Tony, but we started playin’ kickball, and I forgot what time it was, and then…”

  Teresa raised her hand up. “Good friends don’t do that to each other, Marco. Maybe next time you oughta think about how you’re makin’ someone else feel. Huh? How’s that sound?”

  Tony had been standing at the top of the stairs the whole time his mother spoke to Marco. He was happy she was “giving it” to his so-called friend. When it got quiet, Tony made his way down the steps.

  “What do ya want, Marco?”

  “I came to see if ya wanna play. I’m sorry ’bout last night. Are you mad at me?” Marco said, following Tony into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, you were a real jerk. Why did ya leave like that?”

  “I don’t know. I just wanted to make some more friends.”

  “Well, me and those guys don’t like each other. They’re mean, and I hate ’em,” Tony spat.

  “Just ’cause you hate ’em don’t mean I have to hate ’em.”

  “Whatever, Marco. Someday they’ll turn on ya. That’s what they do, ya know—they only like each other.”