I and Sproggy (13 page)

“Caviar? What's that?” Adam asked.

“Fish eggs,” Kenny said.

“Fish eggs? You gotta be kidding me!” Adam said.

“Oh, I don't think there was any caviar,” Sproggy said. “I wish there had been. I absolutely love caviar.”

“Whew!” Adam wiped his forehead. The idea of fish eggs swimming around his insides made him very uncomfortable.

“I can hardly wait to write and tell Wendy about it,” Sproggy said. “I must go home this minute and write to her before I forget anything. Good-bye. I'll see you all tomorrow,” and she hurried off, taking giant steps so she'd get home before her memory failed.

They watched her go. “If it wasn't for
her
,” Steve said, poking a grimy finger at Adam's chest, “you wouldn't have got inside.”

“Give me a break,” Adam said. “I know that. I better head for home too so I don't miss the news.” He took off. Sproggy was already out of sight.

Just as he opened the door, the phone rang.

“Hello,” his father's voice said. “Just wanted to wish you good luck on your first day of school tomorrow and ask you if you'd like to go on the Staten Island ferry on Saturday. Take a ride over and back and maybe go to the Statue of Liberty. How does that sound?” his father said. “Just you and me.”

“Sure, Dad,” Adam said. “Let's take Sproggy along too.”

There was a silence as his father digested this turn of events.

“Sproggy? Certainly. I'd be delighted to have her along. If you're sure …”

“Dad, I've got to turn on the TV,” Adam said. “Watch the nightly news on Channel Nine. Charlie's on. My friend Charlie who works in the building. I've gotta go. See you,” and Adam hung up and raced to turn on the set.

“What's going on?” Adam's mother asked. “What's all the commotion?”

Adam put his finger to his lips. “Watch!” he said.

“At a party this afternoon at Gracie Mansion,” the announcer said, “there were many guests—college presidents and educators all over the world. And also attending were Charlie Hagelstrom and his wife Millie.”

Adam and his mother watched in silence as Charlie said a few words, the sun shining on him and Millie and the Mayor.

“Ma,” Adam hissed, “you see that arm in the back? That red arm? That's me.”

“What?” she said.

“Wait'll Charlie gets finished and I'll tell you,” he said. “I and Sproggy were there.”

CHAPTER 17

After school on Monday Adam sped home, anxious to see Charlie. He found him waxing the lobby floor. Adam sat down and waited for Charlie to finish.

“Mind the corners, Charlie,” the super said, standing in the doorway. “I had a couple complaints lately.”

Charlie shut off the waxer. “I'd like to know the name of the individuals who complained,” he said. “I pride myself on always doing a good job.”

“Hey, all I said was mind the corners.” The super backed off. “Just because you're a celebrity, a TV star, don't go and get a swelled head on me.” He smiled his joyless smile.

“Charlie would never get a swelled head,” Adam said.

“Just mind your p's and q's and everything will be jake,” the super said and disappeared.

“That guy,” Charlie said. “One of nature's misfits. A totally unhappy guy. Never satisfied, always nitpicking. If Santa Claus came down his chimney with a full load of presents, he'd say, ‘Watch them ashes, big boy.'” Charlie shook his head. “Mind the corners,” he muttered. “These are the cleanest corners in the whole city.” He finished polishing and sat down.

“You want a pickle?” he asked Adam, opening his lunch box. “Millie made 'em. Beat any deli pickle I ever ate.”

Adam accepted gratefully. “Tell me about yesterday,” he said. “What happened when the limo took you home. I bet your neighbors flipped out.”

“It was beautiful, beautiful.” Charlie put his head back and closed his eyes, smiling blissfully. “There was a band—a couple of guys on the block play sax, trombone, even a cello. They were waiting, and when the chauffeur opened the door for us, they broke into ‘For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.'

“That did it,” Charlie said, sitting up straight. “Millie cried. She went all to pieces, she was so happy. And if you want to know, I teared up some myself. Oh, it was grand. Me and Millie agreed it was the high spot in our lives.

“Then our friends brought over a turkey and a ham and some casseroles composed of unknown but tasty ingredients, and we made the welkin ring.”

“What's ‘welkin' mean?” Adam asked.

Charlie knit his brow. “I don't exactly know,” he admitted, “but whatever it is, we made it ring. I read that in a book once, and I been meaning to look it up, but I keep forgetting. It's a good word. I never had a chance to use it before but that time it fit right in.” Charlie looked pleased with himself.

“You want to know the conclusion I came to after that gala affair yesterday?” he asked Adam, who nodded.

“I came to the conclusion that the true test of greatness is in how the big man treats the little guy, the low man on the totem pole, like me and Millie. They treat him like he was the Shah of Iran, not to mention a college president. Here I am, a thirteen-year-old school dropout, mingling with the hoi polloi. That joint was jammed with
summa cums
and Ph.D. 's, all that business, and they treated us just as nice.” Charlie shook his head in wonder. “Me and Millie couldn't get over it. Just because I got on a shirt and tie doesn't mean I got one quarter the gray matter them boys have rattling around inside their heads. But nobody woulda known I was any different. It's enough to restore man's faith in his fellow man.

“Do you want another pickle?” Charlie dipped into his supply and came up with two more.

“Me and Millie were tickled pink to see you and the little limey girl getting along like a house afire,” Charlie said, leaning over to catch the pickle juice in his hand. “Nice she got you invited to the party. Now you're friends for life, eh?”

“We were friends before that,” Adam said. “It wasn't because she got me into the party that made us friends,” he added defensively. He didn't want Charlie thinking
that
.

“What did?” Charlie asked.

“Well,” Adam said slowly, “I think it was because I found out she wasn't such a hotshot after all. I mean, she needed someone to stand up for her, and I stood up. I was kind to her. That isn't what
I
said,” he added hastily, not wanting Charlie to get the wrong idea. “That's what she said. A bunch of clods were making fun of her, and she couldn't handle it, and I stood up for her.”

Charlie put his hands on Adam's shoulders. “Hey,” he said, “you are an humanitarian, just like you said. I'm proud of you, Adam. Overnight, practically, you become an humanitarian. Not too many people can boast of that. You cast your bread upon the waters and it comes up roses, so to speak. Good work.”

Adam tried to look modest.

“It wasn't so much,” he said.

Charlie pulled his dustcloth out of his back pocket and went to work.

“No,” he agreed, “but every little bit helps.”

“It wasn't easy, though,” Adam said hastily, not wanting to turn off Charlie's admiration. “As a matter of fact, it was pretty hard.”

Charlie began to whistle “For He's a Jolly Good Fellow,” and when he caught Adam's eye, they both began to laugh.

About the Author

Constance C. Greene is the author of over twenty highly successful young adult novels, including the ALA Notable Book
A Girl Called Al
,
Al(exandra) the Great
,
Getting Nowhere
, and
Beat the Turtle Drum
, which is an ALA Notable Book, an IRA-CBC Children's Choice, and the basis for the Emmy Award–winning after-school special
Very Good Friends
. Greene lives in Milford, Connecticut.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Poem on page 95 reprinted by permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons from
Here, There and Everywhere
by Dorothy Aldis. Copyright 1927, 1928 Dorothy Aldis.

Copyright © 1978 by Constance C. Greene

Cover design by Connie Gabbert

ISBN: 978-1-5040-0439-8

This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

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