Paperboy (16 page)

Mr. Spiro’s house and Ara T’s shed were both frightening but in different ways. Ara T’s was scary because I knew he had stolen most of what he had from around the neighborhood but at Mr. Spiro’s I didn’t know if I was smart enough to learn what was in all of the books.

Mrs. Worthington and her red hair. That was the dessert of my thinking.

The tennis ball caught the top edge of the plank running crossways on the garage door and shot up in the air like a pop fly. The ball landed on the flat roof on our house that jutted out from my upstairs bedroom. I hated it when that happened. My choice was either to go up to my room and climb out the window to the roof or get a ladder from the garage to lean against the house. I didn’t like to go back inside when I was wet from sweat so I got the long wooden ladder from the garage even though it was hard to carry.

I climbed the ladder to the roof and saw the ball near my window. When I sat down on the windowsill to clean the sticky tar off my shoes the breeze felt good coming into my room. I didn’t like to take naps but the heat made it seem like a good idea for a change. I took off my shoes and climbed through the window. I got a towel from the bathroom to put on my bed so I wouldn’t get the bedcovers sweaty.

My nap must have come quick because the next thing I knew Mam was telling me to get up because it was time to start on my route.

The deepest shade near the newspaper drop to fold my papers was two houses up into the alley under a tree that grew through a wooden fence. I waited for the truck.

The shade didn’t help much on these kinds of Memphis days. The leaves on the big trees just drooped because no air was stirring. Walking in the sticky heat was more like swimming.

I saw Ara T coming up the far end of the alley without his long coat on. I watched him every step.

This was the first time I had ever seen him in just his shirtsleeves. His old coat was piled on top of his junk cart that was filled with a rusted washing machine and something that looked like a chest of drawers without the drawers.

Ara T didn’t look the same. He always walked and moved slow like an old man but without his coat you could see the big muscles in his arms. Almost as big as Mr. Spiro’s arms. His waist looked small without any kind of a pooch belly that old men usually have. The only reason I had knocked him over so easy when I ran out of his shed must have been because I caught him by surprise.

I asked Mam one time if she knew how old Ara T was and she came back at me with

How old is the Devil?

When Ara T got about halfway up the alley he turned his cart around and started back the same way he came from. That didn’t make much sense for a man working in the junk trade. I also saw Big Sack sitting in his truck at the end of the alley and wiping the sweat off his face with a red kerchief. The hot weather was getting to everybody.

The newspaper truck was late arriving at the drop. Some of the carriers had pulled off their shirts trying to keep cool.

When the truck finally came the driver was jabbering to himself as he kicked the bundles out of the back. One of the older paperboys yelled at him.

Stop to get a cold one?

Shut your smart mouth or I’ll shut it for you.

The driver wiped the sweat off his arms with a rag from his back pocket. Most of the time the driver would kid with the paperboys but it was too hot for kidding.

The carriers grabbed their bundles and started cutting the straps. I found my three full bundles but my key bundle was missing. I finally found the label stuck in a fence where a carrier named Willie had loaded his newspaper bags on his bike.

Willie was older and bigger than the other paperboys and always wore a black T-shirt and black jeans even on hot days. He had metal taps on the heels of his lace-up shoes. He clicked when he walked.

When he went up to talk to somebody I would see him pull out a comb from his back pocket and start sweeping his long black hair back on the sides. It seemed like he couldn’t talk without his comb in his hand.

I left my stack of papers and went over to where Willie was laughing and cutting up with some of the other carriers. They were talking like Daddy-O Dewey did at night on his
Red Hot & Blue
radio show.

You s-s-s-s-got my s-s-s-s-bundle.

All I got was mine.

Saw my s-s-s-s-label where you s-s-s-s-loaded.

Don’t be jiving me, man.

You s-s-s-s-got my s-s-s-s-bundle.

I said it a little louder but not so loud as a yell. Willie looked at me and then at the other guys who were heading out on their routes. He started laughing.

You best get your short pants outta here, man, or you gonna be running home to Mommy for sure.

He swung his leg to get on his bike. I grabbed his handlebars with one hand and he twisted them away from me so hard that it slung me to the ground.

I’m telling you, retard. Get lost.

He stood up on his pedals and started out of the alley.

I picked up a good-sized throwing rock on the ground and started after him. I got a feel of the weight of the rock in my hand. I picked out a spot on the back of his head where I could bust him. I cocked my arm and was ready to let it fly. I could see that rock hitting him square in the back of the head even though I still held it in my hand.

Willie looked back at me smiling like a suck-egg dog and when he did his handlebars jerked and his front wheel hit the curb. He went flying onto the concrete sidewalk where he had to catch himself with his hands. He got up quick with his shoe taps clicking on the concrete and jumped back on his bike and started pedaling again while he rubbed his bleeding hands on his jeans.

I dropped the rock. I wondered if Willie had felt what I had seen in my head.

Rat had shown me the telephone number to call if I ever was short on papers but I had left his collection book at home. It didn’t matter because there was no way I could explain to the newspaper office over the phone what I needed.

I walked a block up Bellevue to a newspaper rack and stuffed in all the coins I had in my pocket. I didn’t have enough money to cover the fifteen newspapers I took out. I looked around to make sure nobody saw me taking out such a big stack.

When I finished throwing my papers I walked home and got more change from my desk drawer. I got on my bike and rode all the way back to the newspaper rack on Bellevue where I crammed in enough
coins to make up for the papers I had taken. A lot of extra walking and riding in the heat.

Riding my bike back home I decided I was glad I hadn’t thrown the rock at Willie even though he had stolen my newspapers. I think Mam would have been proud of me too. She stood her ground with the boy at the zoo by letting him know to his face that she wasn’t afraid of him.

Somehow I was going to let Willie know I wasn’t afraid of him either. It didn’t take much guts to send a rock through the air to bust somebody in the back of the head. It would take a lot of guts for me to send words in the air to tell Willie what I thought about him.

But I was still glad he crashed his bike.

On Friday afternoon Mam said she hated to stove up the kitchen with it being so hot but that she had in mind to bake a deep-dish pie for my parents who were coming home Saturday.

I was on my last day of the route and then Rat would be back to take it over.

Mam told me she was going to the grocery store later on and might still be out when I got home from throwing papers. Mam usually had the groceries delivered when my parents were away but when she called the store to place her order the grocery man told her the delivery boy had taken off because the heat had made him so light in the head that he couldn’t ride his bicycle.

We’ll eat us a late supper after your collectin’. Too hot for a body to eat at five o’clock anyhow.

We s-s-s-s-can s-s-s-s-celebrate.

That’s right, Little Man. You had you a fine July throwing all those newspapers. I know Mr. Rat will be glad to see you.

Rat would let me go with him and throw the paper route any time I wanted but I was going to miss doing the route on my own even if it was a hundred degrees and some of the other paperboys didn’t play by the rules.

At the newspaper drop the driver called out my bundle number.

Rat’s s-s-s-s-back tomorrow.

The driver looked at me and nodded. It wasn’t often I gave out information without being asked.

I went over to slick-haired Willie who was folding his papers and stuck my bundle label in his face.

That’s mine.

I said it in a loud voice to cut down on my chances of stuttering. I spread my feet a little and was ready to take whatever he had to offer. Willie surprised me. He looked at me and gave me a half of a smile.

Take it easy, man. Everything’s copacetic.

I liked the way he said
copacetic
. Rat had heard the word on the playground and thought it was something dirty but I told him it just meant that everything was okay.

A month before I wouldn’t have said anything to Willie. I would have just kept my mouth shut and stewed about him taking my bundle. The route was changing me.

I didn’t know if I was going to tell Rat about standing up to Willie or about all my good conversations with Mr. Spiro. I knew I couldn’t tell him about Mrs. Worthington. At least for a while. Rat wouldn’t tell anybody else if I made him swear on the Bible not to but I wanted to keep what happened for my own until I understood it better.

I had looked for Mrs. Worthington every day but she was staying inside with the door closed even in all the heat.

I was full of good throws on my last day of the route. End over end. Side arms. High shots. Low shots. Curves around posts. I even threw one through a porch railing. The folded newspaper split the small opening slick as a whistle and came to rest against the house. I didn’t miss one porch.

I was counting on my last night of collecting being just as good as my last day of throwing.

In my room I picked out my best shorts and a clean shirt in case I might get to see Mrs. Worthington.

I knew Mam had gone to the grocery store because her little black hat and parasol were gone from the hall tree at the foot of the back stairs. It felt strange to leave the house without Mam there but strange feelings had been coming in bunches the whole month of July.

The first surprise of the night was seeing TV Boy out on the porch swing when I skipped up the concrete steps to his house. I figured it must be too hot for even him to be inside with his nose stuck to the screen.

When I rang the doorbell his mother told me to wait on the porch while she got some change. TV Boy was swinging and looking straight ahead into space.

s-s-s-s-Nothing on s-s-s-s-television?

He acted like he didn’t hear me.

What s-s-s-s-do you watch all the s-s-s-s-time?

Not one word from TV Boy.

His mother came out of the door about that time and handed me the correct change. Then she did something that knocked me off my rocker. She turned to TV Boy and started moving her hands fast like she was a third base coach giving him signals.