I and Sproggy (9 page)

If I took Burton out for a walk, Adam thought, he might drown in a puddle. He'd never seen a parrot on the end of a leash, but that didn't mean there couldn't be a first time. He could see the headlines now:
PARROT DROWNS IN PUDDLE. BOY MAKES VALIANT RESCUE ATTEMPT. MENTIONED FOR MEDAL
.

“I say, Charlie!” Sproggy burst into the lobby, enveloped in a streaming slicker. She looked around, at and through Adam.

“Charlie, are you there?” she called.

The super appeared. “Our local big shot has work to do,” he said sarcastically. “Just leave your calling card and I'll have him call you.”

“I'll come back later,” she said and went back out into the rain.

I'm invisible, the invisible Bionic Man, Adam decided. A spell has been cast upon me. I'm fated to spend the rest of my days haunting empty rooms.

He opened the door to see how far Sproggy had got. There she was, standing on the corner. I'm sorry, he moved his mouth to say. I'm sorry I was mean. But although his lips moved, no words came out.

CHAPTER 13

Adam let himself into Mr. Early's apartment as soundlessly as a wisp of a British pea souper. Just once, he thought, just once I want to sneak up on that bird. Thinks he's so smart. Thinks he's king of the birds.

He peeked into the living room. Great mounds of discarded seeds and fruit were scattered in an untidy circle around Burton's cage. Boy and bird stared stonily at each other.

“I say!” Burton shrieked. “Oh, I say, not that kid again!” He strutted back and forth on his perch, his great yellow head proud and handsome, his large black eyes filled with fierce glee.

Adam spread clean paper on the bottom of the cage and waited. The paper remained clean. Maybe Burton was constipated. That was
his
problem.

One foot out the door, Adam paused.

“Go soak your head!” he shouted and slammed the door before Burton could answer back. It was the little victories in life that counted, Adam decided, set up by this littlest victory of all.

Killing time, he walked in slow motion down the stairs to his own apartment. “Guess I'll take Rosie for a walk,” he told his mother, who was washing her brushes at the sink.

“I got exactly the right expression on my faces this morning,” she said dreamily. “Exactly right. Maybe I'll take the afternoon off. It's raining,” she said.

“That's Rosie's kind of weather. It makes her hair curly,” Adam replied, snapping the leash to Rosie's collar.

The river was gray and rough, the park deserted. A large poodle, whom Rosalie had tangled with on occasion, pranced about, escorted by a gentleman in a leisure suit decorated with nailheads. Rosalie moved in closer to Adam, so close he tripped on her.

“Act your age,” he told her in a low, severe tone. That poodle was thirty miles of bad road, acting as if he owned the city, sniffing at every tree, lifting his feet high like a horse in Madison Square Garden. Who did he think he was?

Twin corgis on identical pale blue leashes, led by a lady with night-black hair and fingernails so long and red and sharp they could have doubled as butchers' knives, barked frantically at Rosalie. She went limp. Like so many others, she was not her best in a crisis. She wasn't known as the Terror of Eighty-eighth Street for nothing, Adam knew.

“Listen,” he whispered in disgust, “if you let two little wimps like them scare you, you've had it.”

Rosalie pulled herself together and lunged at the corgis, secure in the knowledge that Adam held the other end of her leash. If he ever let go and left her free to attack, Adam knew she probably would die of fright right on the sidewalk. As it was, the corgis retreated, rolling their eyes back in their heads in panic. Adam smiled at the lady, who gave him a look of loathing.

“Come, girls,” she said, curling the edges of her mouth in a silly way. “It's time for your rest.” That's the kind of dogs they were. They took rests.

The black-haired lady looked at Rosalie.

“What breed is that?” she asked, haughty as a princess.

“She's very rare,” Adam said truthfully. The lady drew her sweater around her, put a scarf on her head so her hair wouldn't run, and pulled her twins homeward.

Adam waited until she'd got some distance away. Then he called out, “You better curb those little finks or I'll report them to the cops!” and dove around the corner of the building so she couldn't chase him.

It began to rain hard. Adam decided to seek shelter in the pizza parlor down the street. He might run into someone he knew with a slice nobody had room for.

Two men were sitting at the end of the counter, arguing quietly. The bigger one poked the other in the chest several times, saying, “You get my meaning?”

Sproggy sat at the counter, surrounded on one side by Janice the Grub and on the other by Freddy the Freeloader. Both were famous for being around when someone else was paying for the eats.

“I'm so glad you could come with me,” Sproggy said. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

Janice didn't even have to check the menu. She knew it by heart.

“I'll have the pepperoni,” she said. “And put extra cheese on it.”

“The same,” Freddy said.

Sproggy nodded. “That'll be fine,” she said. “Is one pizza enough for all of us?” she asked the man behind the counter.

“Depends,” he said. “You want it to go?”

“To go where?” Sproggy asked.

“He means you want to eat it here or take it out,” Janice explained. “You're only getting one? For all of us?”

“It's all I have money for,” Sproggy said.

“I don't know,” Janice the Grub said. “I'm pretty hungry.”

“Do you have any money?” Sproggy asked. “We could order another if you do.”

“No, that's O.K.,” Janice said hastily.

Adam laughed silently to himself when he heard that. He reckoned that on her tombstone they'd put: Here lies Janice the Grub who wouldn't turn down a free deck chair on the
Titanic
.

He caught a glimpse of Sproggy's face as she turned on the stool, and he felt a surge of something so subtle, so unfamiliar, that at first he didn't know it for what it was: sympathy.

Sympathy, raising its head, waving to him, striving to be recognized.

Adam sneered at himself for a couple of minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of his image in the dirty window glass. Nothing he could do would make any difference. Sproggy was being taken by a couple of first-class creeps who'd run out of other people to take. She must really be hard up for friends, he thought. And that was partly his fault. Maybe if he walked up to the counter and slapped her on the back and said something nice, it would help. She'd probably spit on him.

Freddy was busy loading his pockets with sugar cubes. Neither one of them had paid for a pizza or a stick of gum within living memory. They were famous for grubbing: other people's sandwiches, notebooks, anything. Last year Janice had even grubbed Kenny's new tan sweater, but his mother called her mother and they got it back.

Adam hung around by the door, listening. “Shut that door, there's a draft!” the little guy at the counter shouted in a loud, deep voice. So Adam went out again into the rain and wondered if he should clue Sproggy in on her companions. Never mind. It wouldn't do any good. She wouldn't listen. His feelings of sympathy faded. Let her find out for herself. He hung around in the doorway of the jewelry store, waiting for them to come out.

“No loitering!” the owner shouted from behind locked doors. To freak him out, Adam said, “I just wanted to price the watch in the window.”

The owner said, “Sorry, sir,” sliding back about eighteen locks and sticking his head out. “Fifty-five dollars, with a year's guarantee.”

“I was thinking more of something in the hundred-dollar range,” Adam said. The man shouted a couple of insults at Adam and relocked his door. Adam peered into the window of the pizza parlor. There they were, at the counter, jaws moving rhythmically, staring straight ahead, while Sproggy chattered away happily, enjoying herself with her friends.

If she only knew, Adam thought. For lack of anything better to do, he dropped Rosalie off at the apartment and went upstairs to check on Burton. He liked being alone in Mr. Early's apartment. He pretended it was his own.

Mr. Early was lying on the sofa, covered with a knitted blanket.

“Got home early,” he said in a faint voice. “Must've eaten something that didn't agree with me. My sister had a party last night, served a punch with strawberries floating in it. Should have known. Anything with strawberries floating in it has got to be poison to my system.”

“You want me to get anything for you?” Adam said, sitting down.

Mr. Early shook his head. “See you took care of Burton real well,” he said. “Good boy. My sister was trying to fix me up with one of her widow friends. They're the ones who like the strawberry stuff. One of those ladies, she's pretty well fixed, I guess. Winters in Florida and has a nice little place on the Jersey shore for summers. You ever been to the Jersey shore?”

Adam shook his head. He had discovered the best approach with Mr. Early was to keep quiet and listen.

“I wouldn't dare set my foot in the water down there,” Mr. Early said. “Those waves'd knock you down as soon as they'd look at you. By and large, women talk too much. I enjoy my solitude. My Ida knew how to be quiet. Burton and I are company for each other. That sand gets in your bathing suit something fierce when you go in the ocean down in Jersey. Fills it up so you can't hardly move. And cold. Lands, but it's cold. You two get on all right?”

“Sure,” Adam said, avoiding Burton's malevolent, hooded eyes. Burton, for once, said nothing.

Mr. Early raised himself on his elbows. “I'm going to pay you the full amount I owe,” he said. “Not your fault I came back early.” He counted out three one-dollar bills and added a dime.

“There's a tip for you,” he said. “A job well done.”

“I can't take all that,” Adam protested. “I didn't do that much. Just give me a buck and we'll call it even.”

Mr. Early lay back, shaking his head. “That widow lady I was telling you about, she's a vegetarian. Says it keeps her young, not eating meat. That and using honey in her tea instead of sugar. What I say is”—he sat up again—“what good's it do to stay young if you can't have your innards when you want 'em? I could never care for a lady who's a vegetarian. Otherwise, she's real nice. Sort of reminded me of Ida.”

He sighed deeply. “I could use a glass of milk,” he said. “Nice cold milk. Will you run around the corner and get me a quart?”

When Adam got back from the store, Charlie was waiting in the lobby.

“You'll never guess what happened,” Charlie said. “Never in a million years.”

“You won the lottery?” Adam said.

“No, but almost as good. Sit down while I tell you because I don't want you to hurt yourself when you fall down.” Charlie pushed Adam into the lobby's solitary gray chair.

“Me and Millie are going to Gracie Mansion,” Charlie said slowly, spacing each word for the fullest effect. “We been invited to go to a party on Sunday at the Mayor's place. On account of my picture in the paper, going to City University and all. They're having a reception for a bunch of bigwigs—educators, college presidents, all like that—and me and Millie are included due to the fact that we're representative of the type of folks going back to school in this great city of ours. Now what have you got to say? Eh?”

Adam was struck dumb with astonishment.

“I didn't tell her yet,” Charlie went on. “One of the Mayor's aides, he called up here a few minutes ago. I thought it was somebody pulling my leg. But he said it was for real, and I believe him. He said the invitation would come in the mail tomorrow. I want to see Millie's face when I tell her. The super says I can go home early, as soon as I finish washing down the walls in the back hall.”

“I'll give you a hand,” Adam said.

“That's a real friendly thing to do,” Charlie said. “I'm almost done, though. You're a pal, Adam, a real pal.”

“Congratulations.” Adam shook Charlie's hand. “You've made the big time. Only celebrities get invited to the Mayor's pad. Maybe you'll be on TV. I wouldn't be surprised. You better plan a speech, Charlie. They might ask you to give a speech.”

“Never!” Charlie wiped his brow, perspiring at the mere thought of giving a speech at Gracie Mansion. “I couldn't do that, Adam. I never gave a speech in my entire life. I'm too old to start now.”

“Since when are you too old to do something?” Adam scowled at Charlie. “Since when? I thought you said you were in your prime. You and Millie both. Isn't that what you said?”

“Right, right,” Charlie agreed, although he still looked nervous. “I'll see you around, kid,” he said.

Adam took the milk up to Mr. Early and told him of Charlie's good fortune.

“I call that super, as your little stepsister would say,” Mr. Early said. “Absolutely top hole!”

“Top hole!” Burton shouted from the next room.

“It's time for
All My Children
,” Mr. Early said, looking at his watch. “You want to stay and watch with Burton and me?”

“No thanks,” Adam said. “I got problems enough of my own.”

“That's just it,” Mr. Early said, turning on the TV. “Nothing you got bothering you can be as bad as these folks.”

“That's what you think,” Adam said.

CHAPTER 14

Adam dreamed that night of becoming the tallest man in the world. His legs began to stretch in a most delightful fashion. At first it was marvelous. He roamed the streets, looking down on all the little folk, not to mention peering into the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center and, stooping, the Central Park zoo. For openers.