Livvy listened intently, her heels hooked over the edge of the chair, her arms around her shins. “What did you do?”
“I walked slow with my hand in my pocket. I kept picking up and counting those pennies: 1 … 2 … 3 … 4. It was four every time.”
Socko slipped off his soggy sneakers and tipped his chair back against the kitchen counter. A couple of weeks before the move he had made a walk like that—only he was heading to Donatelli’s with Damien to get Louise a pack of cigarettes and they’d had no money at all.
“I was almost to the door when I had a bright idea,” the General said. “I stopped and tore a hole in my pocket so I could make like I’d lost one of my pennies.”
Damien had had a bright idea too—and a dead cockroach.
“I grabbed a loaf of bread,” his great-grandfather went on, “and then I put the four cents on the counter in a pile. Mr. Lewis counted them into his palm and then held out his hand. I felt around in my pocket and acted surprised.”
Socko had acted surprised too—surprised to discover that there was a dead roach on top of the pile of chicken wings under the heat lamp.
The General mimed turning his pocket inside out. “I showed Mr. Lewis the hole in my pocket, but he wasn’t fooled. Instead he handed me a broom and let me work off the last penny.”
When Socko had showed Mr. Donatelli the roach, he had been fooled—or at least distracted long enough for Damien to reach behind the counter and snag a pack of cigarettes. Socko wished he could have offered Mr. Donatelli some work in trade for the cigarettes, but the shop owner didn’t trust kids.
“I’d be happy to do any kind of work to help my family earn money,” said Livvy. “But things are different now.”
The General shook his head. “If you can’t help them earn money, maybe you can help them save.”
Livvy put her head down on her knees. “I got all over them about not sending me back to private school. I told them if they really loved me they would never make me go to public! But I didn’t know we were in real trouble until last night.”
The General leaned toward her. “So lie. Tell them you changed your mind. Tell them you decided it would be fun to go to public school with your boyfriend, Socko.”
Livvy blushed. “There are some lies nobody would believe.”
“You’re right,” the General agreed. “Sorry I suggested it.”
She went to the living room window. “No cars,” she reported. “I’ll lie to Mother as soon as she gets home.”
“You want to do something right now?” the General called. “Luke’s planting posies down by the guardhouse. Bet he wouldn’t mind some help.”
“What do you say Socko? Want to help Luke?” she asked.
She sounded pretty happy about digging holes in the hot sun. He was too. Doing something—anything that might help—beat worrying.
The General eyed Socko and Livvy as they came in the front door, glaring at their dirty hands. “I didn’t think the two of you could look any worse, but you managed it.”
“We straightened up the sign so it doesn’t look like it’s falling over anymore,” said Socko.
“Bet that looks a little more dignified.”
“And we planted about a zillion marigolds. And, let’s see, we put in tithonia, gomphrena, and verbena.” As Livvy ticked the exotic flower names off on her fingers, her father’s car pulled into the driveway across the street. “What was that creeping plant with little yellow flowers?” she asked Socko.
“Livvy,” the General said, cutting off the recitation. “Ask your father to come over for a minute if he’d like a little good news.”
Livvy dashed out the door. When she came back, her father was walking slowly behind her. Even though the guy had caused him a lot of trouble, Socko felt sorry for him. His whole body drooped, as if the dinner with the partners had put a huge weight on his shoulders.
“You know the guard booth Luke and the kids just prettied up?” the General asked. “How’d you like an old geezer to put in it? Someone to open and close the gate?”
Livvy’s dad looked disappointed. A geezer in the guard booth didn’t seem to be his idea of good news. “You can sit in the booth,” he told the General, “but I can’t pay you.”
“Not me!” the General snapped. “This geezer’s name is Eddie Corrigan. We were in the war together. After us boys came home, he hung around my store for better than fifty years, supposedly working. The only way to fire him was to sell out. Vermont’s getting too cold for him—and he misses my smiling face.”
Socko saw one corner of Mr. Holmes’s mouth turn up—which was twice the smile the General wore.
“They sold their big old house a few months ago, moved into a little apartment. His wife Lil is sick and tired of having him underfoot, so she likes the idea of a bigger house and a guard booth to stick him in. He likes the idea of being in law enforcement. I told him you might even throw in a uniform.”
“I can arrange that.”
“And a gun.”
“A gun?” Mr. Holmes puffed up his cheeks and blew out.
The General contemplated the ceiling for a second. “I think he’d settle for a big flashlight.”
30
THE BAD PENNY
Socko overheard a phone exchange between the General and his old army buddy. “It’s all squared away. You get the booth,” the General wheezed into the phone. “And did I tell you about our eighteen-hole golf course and clubhouse loaded with activities?”
“What golf course?” Socko asked when his great-grandfather hung up. “What activities?”
“So I told a few stretchers.” The General stabbed a finger at the house across the street. “I don’t want to see that fella over there lose his business; he’s got family.”
“Right. And it isn’t because you want your friend to move here. Admit it, you miss him!”
“Miss him!” The General slapped his skinny thighs with his palms. “For better than sixty years Eddie Corrigan was an irritation, a rock in my shoe! Like a bad penny, he just kept turning up. The best I can say is I was used to him.”
“I have a friend I was used to—”
“I know,” the old man said, cutting him off. “Delia Marie and I have been talking about this Damien Rivera kid.”
“You have?” Socko saw a glimmer of hope.
“If what Delia Marie says is true, he’s happy where he is.” The General lifted his bony shoulders and let them drop. “Sometimes friends move on—personally I’ve never been that lucky—”
“He’s not happy! He’s just doing what he has to do to stay alive!”
“Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, I think you deserve an answer to that question.”
The glimmer was back. “And how would I get an answer?”
“Ask Damien.”
“Ask him how?”
“Therein lies the conundrum. Delia Marie has made up her mind. She won’t take you back to the old neighborhood. I lack wheels.” He gave the arm of his wheelchair a quick slap. “At least not the kind we need. Maybe when Eddie gets here, we can steal his car.”
Was he serious? With the General, Socko could never tell, but it sure sounded as if his great-grandfather had given him permission to find a way to get back to the old neighborhood to talk to Damien.
Socko couldn’t get the conversation with the General off his mind. He thought about it every morning, standing in the hot sun with Luke and Livvy planting flower beds. He thought about it in the evening as he was playing cards with the General. He thought about it at night as he stared into the darkness, his great-grandfather snoring and coughing downstairs.
He was still thinking about it one morning when he knocked on Luke’s door, ready for the day’s gardening assignment. The Holmes Homes truck that was always parked in the driveway was gone, but Socko figured Ceelie could point him to the part of the project where Luke was working; they’d been starting earlier and earlier to beat the worst of the heat.
Ceelie opened t
he door, Emily on her hip. “Oh, hi, Socko. Luke’s in the city today, running errands for Mr. Holmes.”
Errands in the city … The words chimed in Socko’s head.
It was like he could hear the powerful angel voices that used to come out the open doors of the AME church down the street from the Kludge. He rushed back home.
“I think I have a way to get back to the old neighborhood!” he said, barging through the front door.
“Hold your horses, kid.” The General crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “Explain.”
While Socko explained, the General chewed on the insides of his cheeks and frowned.
Socko waited for a sign of approval, but the frown didn’t go away. It was looking like it had been a big mistake telling the old guy. The General must have been joking with him that day, not authorizing a sneak trip to see Damien. What if his great-grandfather put his foot down now, insisted they run his idea by Delia?
The General cleared his throat. “There’s an old military saying that goes like this: ‘Sometimes it is better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I know nothing about your little plan, and Delia Marie won’t hear it from me.” The fingers he put on Socko’s arm felt as dry and cool as notebook paper. “But Socko, if you should happen to carry out this plan you never told me about, I expect you to exercise the utmost caution, do nothing stupid, and get your patoot back here as soon as you have your answer. No heroics. It would simply be a recon mission. Compree?”
“Compree.”
When he saw Luke that afternoon, Socko asked if he could ride along on his next trip into town. “I have to check on my best friend.”
“That okay with your folks?”
“The General authorized it.” Socko hoped Luke wouldn’t go back to the General to make sure, or worse yet, ask Delia. And that wasn’t his only problem. Somehow Socko was going to have to convince Luke to let Damien ride back with them to Moon Ridge.
Hopefully when the time came, Damien would have one of his genius ideas.
For days, Socko and Livvy helped Luke plant the gardens around the clubhouse, Socko waiting, not very patiently, to hitch a ride back to the old neighborhood. Although the need for the ride to happen right now itched him all the time, he didn’t talk to anyone about it, not even the General. He was afraid his great-grandfather might reconsider.
But his great-grandfather had other things on his mind—namely, not acting excited that his own thorn-in-the-side best friend, Eddie Corrigan, was about to move to the neighborhood.
Luke straightened up from the landscape boulder they’d just rolled into place beside one of the clubhouse paths. “Might be going into the city this afternoon,” he said. “If I am, I’ll pick you up.”
“All right!” Lucky for Socko, Livvy was off at the dentist and the General was probably too distracted to care. This was the day the Corrigans were to arrive.
Socko needed a shower, but he couldn’t risk being naked and wet when Luke came by, so he stood at the kitchen sink and let the cold water pour over his head. He vaguely heard the blast of a horn through the sound of running water.
“Unnecessary ruckus!” the General exclaimed. “Socko?”
Socko rushed out of the kitchen, furiously rubbing his head dry with a kitchen towel, but the Holmes Homes truck was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a baby blue Cadillac Coupe sat in the driveway.
“The bad penny turns up!” the General huffed. “It’s Eddie Corrigan and his lovely wife Lil. You may as well show them in.”
Socko’s first view of Eddie Corrigan through the bug-specked windshield included a straw hat with a plaid band and a pair of milky blue eyes that peered back at him from under the hat’s brim. The window powered down. “You must be Socko!”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Corrigan.” Socko opened the door for him.
“What the hey? Call me Uncle Eddie. And this is the wife, Lil.”
The woman seated beside Uncle Eddie was large, like Delia. She wore a dress with giant daisies printed on it. “Hello, honey,” she said.
The old man climbed out of the car but his back stayed as bent as a question mark. One hand on top of his hat, he squinted up at Socko. “Hoo-ee! How’s the air up there? I remember when I used to be tall.”
The General rapped his knuckles on the window.
Uncle Eddie lifted his hat to salute his scowling friend. “Sure have missed that friendly face!” He tucked his thumbs into his white plastic belt. “So how has Cookie been treating you, son?”
“Cookie?”
Uncle Eddie’s laugh was a sharp honk. “He didn’t tell you? That’s what we called him in the army.”
While the Corrigans settled in the living room, the General ordered Socko to rustle up some grub.
“Yes, Cookie—I mean, yes sir.” Socko beat a hasty retreat and heated half a dozen burgers while Uncle Eddie and “Cookie” caught up over lunch (Uncle Eddie did most of the talking). His wife read aloud from the Moon Ridge Estates brochure. “Lush lawns. Modern landscaping. Golf course.” After each item she stared pointedly at the General.
“You don’t even play golf, baby doll,” Uncle Eddie soothed. “And my booth sure looked spiff-a-roo. The moving van should be here by six. You’ll feel better with your stuff around you. Our daughter Jeanie and her husband packed us up,” he explained. “We diddle-dawdled our way south so we’d get here about the same time as the truck.”
They were just finishing their burgers when a second horn blasted in the driveway. Socko looked out the window and saw Luke seated at the wheel of the Holmes Homes pickup.
“Nice meeting you,” Socko called as he headed toward the door, “but I gotta go!”
“Halt!” A surprisingly strong hand gripped his wrist.
“But I have to—this is my ride!”
The General’s grip tightened. “You will exercise extreme caution at all times, private. You will do nothing to give me reason to regret this mission I know nothing about.”
“Yes, sir.” Socko dashed out the door and climbed into the truck. When he looked back at the house, his great-grandfather’s face was at the window. The old man nodded once. Socko nodded back.
31
LIL’ D
It wasn’t rush hour, so the trip to the city was fast—the distance had seemed so much longer when he was lying awake in bed trying to figure out how to get back to the old neighborhood. “I’ll drop you off,” said Luke as they exited the interstate. “But I only have a couple errands, so it’ll have to be a quick visit. How do I get there?”
“Um … I think you turn here,” said Socko. They cut through a neighborhood in which all the signs were in Spanish. “Try a … right at that bodega.” In the next neighborhood the buildings looked vacant.
This was a possibility Socko hadn’t considered. What if he couldn’t find his way back home?
Then suddenly the gray concrete pile that was Grover Cleveland Middle School was in front of him. “Here! Turn here!” Socko strained forward in his seat, tugging against the belt.
He saw a Tarantula tag on a Dumpster and Mrs. A. walking Puppy Precious past Two Guys Pawn Shop. Even though she was Meat’s mother, he wanted to jump out and kiss her. He was home!
Then he remembered his mission.
As they rolled past the familiar storefronts he repeated a silent chant: make it easy, make it easy.
They reached the corner of his street. “Stop here.” Socko scanned the block— Damien was just coming out of Donatelli’s. Alone! Although it looked like things were going to be easy after all, Socko’s palms went all sweaty. “See ya, Luke. Thanks for the ride.”
“Half an hour. Be on this corner.”
“Sure.” Socko slammed the door behind him. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Yo, Damien!”
His friend turned toward him fast, then looked back over his shoulder at Donatelli’s plate glass window. He hesitated just a second befo
re running down the long block toward Socko.
Socko ran too, wondering what they were supposed to do when they reached each other. Hug? High five?
Damien stopped a few feet away from him. “Hey,” he said. “Nice lid.”
“Superpowered. You want it back?”
“Nah. I kind of replaced it.” That’s when Socko noticed that the bill of Damien’s new cap pointed to the side.
“What happened? They make you join?”
Damien shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it. Soon as Luke—Luke’s the guy with the truck—soon as he comes back I’ll get you outta here.”
“Like an abduction?” The crooked grin was pure Damien, but it dimmed fast as he looked over his shoulder. “Not a great idea. A lot has changed since you blew outta here. I gotta stick around.”
“Why?”
“My mom and the latest boyfriend.”
“What about ’em?”
Damien took another quick glance toward Donatelli’s. “It’s kind of complicated.” He touched his new cap—the same way he’d always touched the S on his old one. “Let’s just say that in my present situation it doesn’t hurt to have some brothers around.”
“Brothers?”
At the sound of a sharp whistle, Damien turned fast. Rapp, Meat, and some other guys were standing in front of the door to the convenience store.
Damien looked at Socko. “Gotta go—” He did a stutter step backwards. “And you should get outta here.” He took off.
Socko watched the soles of Damien’s sneakers as he flew past the Jumbo Dollar, the Rockin’ Wok, the newsstand, and the vacant store that used to sell scratch-and-dent appliances.
Damien had nearly reached Donatelli’s when Socko started running too. Was he crazy following his friend right into a nest of Tarantulas? Definitely. But he kept on running.
By the time Socko got to them, Damien was already slouched against the wall between Rapp and Meat, his slumped back resting easy against the brick wall, like he’d been there all along. Only his chest pumping in and out proved he’d just run hard.
Summer on the Moon Page 18
