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Some of his permanent teeth had already come—but they
were210
small and blue like he had been eating blackberries。 He
drew a line for taw and lay on his stomach to take aim for the
first hole。 When their Dad went back to his watch work he
carried Ralph with him。 And after a while George went off
into the alley by himself。 Since he shot Baby he wouldn't
buddy with a single person。
'I got to go；' Harry said。 'I got to be at work before six。' 'You
like it at the cafe？ Do you get good things to eat free？'
'Sure。 And all kinds of folks come in the place。 I like it better
than any job I ever had。 It pays more。'
'I hate Mister Brannon；' Mick said。 It was true that even
though he never said anything mean to her he always spoke in
a rough； funny way。 He must have known all along about the
pack of chewing…gum she and George swiped that time。 And
then why would he ask her how her business was coming
along—like he did up in Mister Singer's room？ Maybe he
thought they took things regular。 And they didn't。 They
certainly did not。 Only once a little water…color set from the
ten…cent store。 And a nickel pencil…sharpener。
'I can't stand Mister Brarmon。'
'He's all right；' Harry said。 'Sometimes he seems a right queer
kind of person； but he's not crabby。 When you get to know
him。'
'One thing I've thought about；' Mick said。 'A boy has a better
advantage like that than a girl。 I mean a boy can usually get
some part…time job that don't take him out of school and leaves
him time for other things。 But there's not jobs like that for
girls。 When a girl wants a job she has to quit school and work
full time。 I'd sure like to earn a couple of bucks a week like
you do； but there's just not any way。'
Harry sat on the steps and untied his shoestrings。 He pulled at
them until one broke。 'A man comes to the caf6 named Mr。
Blount。 Mr。 Jake Blount。 I like to listen to him。 I learn a lot
from the things he says when he drinks beer。 He's given me
some new ideas。'
'I know him good。 He comes here every Sunday。'
Harry unlaced his shoe and pulled the broken string to even
lengths so he could tie it in a bow again。 'Listen'—he
rubbed his glasses on his lumberjack in a nervous way— 'You
needn't mention to him what I said。 I mean I doubt if he would
remember me。 He don't talk to me。 He just talks to Mr。 Singer。
He might think it was funny if you —you know what I mean。'
'O。K。' She read between the words that he had a crush on
Mister Blount and she knew how he felt。 'I wouldn't mention
it。'
Dark came on。 The moon； white like milk； showed in the blue
sky and the air was cold。 She could hear Ralph and George
and Portia in the kitchen。 The fire in the stove made the
kitchen window a warm orange。 There was the smell of smoke
and supper。
'You know this is something I never have told anybody；' he
said。 'I hate to realize about it myself。'
。What？'
'You remember when you first began to read the newspapers
and think about the things you read？'
'Sure。'
'I used to be a Fascist。 I used to think I was。 It was this way。
You know all the pictures of the people our age in Europe
marching and singing songs and keeping step together。 I used
to think that was wonderful。 All of them pledged to each other
and with one leader。 All of them with the same ideals and
marching in step together。 I didn't worry much about what was
happening to the Jewish minorities because I didn't want to
think about it。 And because at the time I didn't want to think
like I was Jewish。 You see； I didn't know。 I just looked at the
pictures and read what it said underneath and didn't
understand。 I never knew what an awful thing it was。 I thought
I was a Fascist。 Of course later on I found out different。'
His voice was bitter against himself and kept changing from a
man's voice to a young boy's。
'Well； you didn't realize then' she said。
'It was a terrible transgression。 A moral wrong。'
That was the way he was。 Everything was either very right or
very wrong—with no middle way。 It was wrong for anyone
under twenty to touch beer or wine or smoke a cigarette。 It
was a terrible sin for a person to cheat on a test； but not a sin
to copy homework。 It was a moral wrong212
for girls to wear lipstick or sun…backed dresses。 It was a
terrible sin to buy anything with a German or Japanese label；
no matter if it cost only a nickel。
She remembered Harry back to the time when they were kids。
Once his eyes got crossed and stayed crossed for a year。 He
would sit out on his front steps with his hands between his
knees and watch everything。 Very quiet and cross…eyed。 He
skipped two grades in grammar school and when he was
eleven he was ready for Vocational。 But at Vocational when
they read about the Jew in 'Ivanhoe' the other kids would look
around at Harry and he would come home and cry。 So his
mother took him out of school。 He stayed out for a whole year。
He grew taller and very fat。 Every time she climbed the fence
she would see him making himself something to eat in his
kitchen。 They both played around on the block； and sometimes
they would wrestle。 When she was a kid she liked to fight with
boys— not real fights but just in play。 She used a combination
jujitsu and boxing。 Sometimes he got her down and sometimes
she got him。 Harry never was very rough with anybody。 When
little kids ever broke any toy they would come to him and he
always took the time to fix it。 He could fix anything。 The
ladies on the block got him to fix their electric lights or
sewing…machines when something i went wrong。 Then when
he was thirteen he started back ｜ at Vocational and began to
study hard。 He threw papers and worked on Saturdays and
read。 For a long time she didn't see much of him—until after
that party she gave。 He was very changed。
'Like this；' Harry said。 'It used to be I had some big 。 ambition
for myself all the time。 A great engineer or a great doctor or
lawyer。 But now I don't have it that way。 。 All I can think
about is what happens in the world now。 i About Fascism and
the terrible things in Europe—and on f the other hand
Democracy。 I mean I can't think and work on what I mean to
be in life because I think too much about this other。 I dream
about killing Hitler every night And I wake up in the dark very
thirsty and scared of some…■ thing—I don't know what'
She looked at Harry's face and a deep； serious feeling made
her sad。 His hair hung over his forehead。 His upper lip was
thin and tight； but the lower one was thick and it
213
trembled。 Harry didn't look old enough to be fifteen。 With the
darkness a cold wind came。 The wind sang up in the oak trees
on the block and banged the blinds against the side of the
house。 Down the street Mrs。 Wells was calling Sucker home。
The dark late afternoon made the sadness heavy inside her。 I
want a piano—I want to take music lessons； she said to
herself。 She looked at Harry and he was lacing his thin fingers
together in different shapes。 There was a warm boy smell
about him。
What was it made her act like she suddenly did？ Maybe it was
remembering the times when they were younger。 Maybe it
was because the sadness made her feel queer。 But anyway all
of a sudden she gave Harry a push that nearly knocked him off
the steps。 'S。O。B。 to your Grandmother；' she hollered to him。
Then she ran。 That was what kids used to say in the
neighborhood when they picked a fight Harry stood up and
looked surprised。 He settled his glasses on his nose and
watched her for a second。 Then he ran back to the alley。
The cold air made her strong as Samson。 When she laughed
there was a short； quick echo。 She butted Harry with her
shoulder and he got a holt on her。 They wrestled hard and
laughed。 She was the tallest but his hands were strong。 He
didn't fight good enough and she got him on the ground。 Then
suddenly he stopped moving and she stopped too。 His
breathing was warm on her neck and he was very still。 She felt
his ribs against her knees and his hard breathing as she sat on
him。 They got up together。 They did not laugh any more and
the alley was very quiet。 As they walked across the dark back
yard for some reason she felt funny。 There was nothing to feel
queer about； but suddenly it had just happened。 She gave him
a little push and he pushed her back。 Then she laughed again
and felt all right。
'So long；' Harry said。 He was too old to climb the fence； so he
ran through the side alley to the front of his house。
'Gosh it's hot！' she said。 'I could smother in here。'
Portia was warming her supper in the stove。 Ralph
banged his spoon on his high…chair tray。 George's dirty
little hand pushed up his grits with a piece of bread and
his eyes were squinted in a faraway look。 She helped her…214
self to white meat and gravy and grits and a few raisins and
mixed them up together on her plate。 She ate three bites of
them。 She ate until all the grits were gone but still she wasn't
full。
She had thought about Mister Singer all the day； and as soon
as supper was over she went upstairs。 But when she reach