Nothing to Fear (7 page)

I decided today to give up stealing forever.

Being awful hungry, I had sneaked a few peanuts out of the bin at the store, figuring Mr. Weissman would never miss a handful. I had put them into my apron pocket and was tossing one into my mouth every time Mr. Weissman turned his back, when I bit into one that crackled strangely. I tasted something kind of gooey and sour, and I spit it into my hand.

"Oh no-o-o-o," I moaned.

"What? What's the matter?" asked Mr. Weissman.

"Miss Perkins's worm," I groaned, my stomach flipping over. "I just ate it."

Mr. Weissman started to laugh, then he made a stern face and pointed to the ceiling. "He got you," he said.

I looked up. All I could see was a spider, who
admittedly might not be too crazy about me horning in on his bug supply, but I didn't really see how he could have "gotten me."

"Who?" I asked.

"Him," said Mr. Weissman, pointing to the ceiling again.

Then I figured out that me meant the
big
Him.

"He got you," said Mr. Weissman, "for stealing peanuts."

I felt myself blushing. "You knew?" I said quietly.

"Of course I knew. I have eyes in the back of my head. You don't see them, but they're there."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weissman. Really I am. I'll work an extra day to pay for them."

Mr. Weissman waved my words away. "A handful of peanuts I can afford," he said. "Only next time
ask,
don't steal."

I was really mad at myself, not only because I'd gone back on my word to Pa, but because I've come to like crotchety old Mr. Weissman with his gruff ways and his heart of gold. I want him to like me, too.

It hasn't taken me long to figure out why the Weissmans live as poor as they do. It's not for lack of business. The little bell over the door dings all day long. The trouble is, the bell in the cash register hardly ever dings at all. Everybody just keeps saying, "Put it on my bill," and the numbers in the black book get bigger and bigger, while Mr. Weissman's wallet gets thinner and thinner.

Working in the store has been causing a problem for me, too—one I hadn't figured on. See, as soon as word got out that I was working there, all my friends started showing up, thinking I'd let them get away without paying. It was really rough, especially in the beginning, before I figured out about Mr. Weissman; because here I was working for this supposedly rich old guy, and here were all my friends, just looking for a little something to fill their bellies, and I'm stuck in the middle. If I give the stuff away and get caught I disappoint Pa, and Mr. Weissman gets to keep the watch. If I don't give the stuff away, my friends think I'm a rat fink.

So that's how I got to be a rat fink.

And that's not the worst of my problems. Who showed up at the store this afternoon but the Sullivan boys, which took some nerve, I thought. But then the Sullivan boys are about as long on nerve as they are short on brain.

Mr. Weissman was busy with a customer when they came in.

"Well, look who's here," said Harry. "What are you doing working here, Danny boy?"

"You know very well what I'm doing here," I said under my breath so Mr. Weissman wouldn't hear.

"Helping out, huh?" Harry went on. "Well, that's real nice. Ain't that nice, Frank?"

"Nice," said Frank.

I scowled. "What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Gee, polite, too," said Harry. "You're just so
polite I think you ought to get a raise. Don't you think he ought to get a raise, Frank?"

"Shut up, Harry," I said.

"Uh-oh, uh-oh, now is that any way to talk to a customer?"

"You ain't no customer, Harry."

"Now see here, you're wrong," said Harry. "I got a dime right here says I am."

Mr. Weissman's customer had left and he was standing there watching us.

"Well then, what can I do for you?" I asked again.

"Our ma wants a loaf of bread and three cents' worth of sugar," said Harry.

"Danny," Mr. Weissman interrupted, "you can handle this. I'll be in the back."

I couldn't believe my ears. Of all times to leave me alone. He knew darn well the Sullivan boys meant trouble.

I got the bread and weighed out the sugar. I handed the bag to Harry.

"That'll be ten cents," I said.

Harry dropped the dime back into his pocket.

"And you can kiss my butt," he said.

I looked toward the back room.

"Aw, you gonna call mommy?" said Harry in a whiny voice. "Look at that, Frank, he's gonna call mommy."

"Awwww," said Frank.

I stared at them. "Give me the money, Harry."

"Put it on my bill," he said. "Let's go, Frank."

"You don't have credit here, Harry," I told him, "and you know it."

Harry just shrugged and kept on walking. I had to do something quick. I wasn't about to let Mr. Weissman think I'd let them get away without paying. I jumped the counter, cut in front of them, and blocked the door.

"Give me the dime, Harry," I said again.

"Gee," said Harry, "there's something in the way. I guess we better move it, Frank."

"Guess so," said Frank.

They both lunged forward and grabbed me, one under each arm, and hoisted me up. I kicked my legs out and twisted them around one each of theirs, and the three of us went down with a crash.

"Hey, hey!" yelled Mr. Weissman, rushing out of the back room. "What is this, what is this?"

"Nothing, sir," I said, getting up and brushing myself off. "Harry and Frank were just paying for their groceries, weren't you, fellas?"

Harry glared at me. He took the dime out and slapped it into my open hand. I picked up their bag from where it had landed under the three of us.

"Sorry about your bread," I said. "Maybe your ma can make a pudding."

Harry grabbed the bag out of my hand, swore under his breath, and left with Frank tagging after.

"Thank you. Come again," I shouted after them.

Mr. Weissman smiled.

"What'd you leave me alone for?" I asked. "You know those two are trouble."

Mr. Weissman just shrugged and stroked his beard. Then something dawned on me.

"You were testing me, weren't you?" I said.

The bell dinged and a customer walked in.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Salinas," said Mr. Weissman, ignoring my question. "How can we help you today?"

It was dusk when I walked home from the store. Normally I keep a pretty sharp eye out, but being that tonight was Friday, my mind was full of all the swell things I was planning for tomorrow. I was trying to figure out how I could cram the most good stuff into one day. I was almost home, when suddenly I was grabbed from behind. My arms were pinned in back of me, and Harry Sullivan's face appeared in front of me just long enough for him to land a punch in my gut that knocked the wind out of me. While I was helpless like that, all doubled over, sucking and gulping for air, Harry and Frank dragged me back into an alley and pinned me up against the wall, smashing my face against the bricks.

"Look what we got here," said Harry. "Gee, if it ain't the neighborhood rat fink." He gave my head a
rough shove and my face scraped painfully along the wall.

"What do you want, Harry?" I asked when I could breathe again.

"What do we want?" Harry's face appeared in front of mine and he smiled a hateful smile. "Let's start with an 'I'm sorry.'" He twisted my arm behind me.

Use your head when you're in trouble
, Pa always said.
There's a time to be tough and a time to be smart.
This was a time to be smart.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Louder," shouted Harry, twisting harder.

"Sorry," I shouted.

"I don't think he sounds sorry enough, do you, Frank?"

"Nah," said Frank.

"I think he needs to be taught a lesson," said Harry. "Get down on your knees, fink."

He shoved me down, my face scraping against the wall again. The skin was raw now and the wet feel of the bricks told me I was bleeding.

Harry and Frank leaned over me, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a knife blade sliding open and snapping into place. My insides turned to ice and every hair on my body stood up. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Then, all of a sudden, they let me go and stepped back. I turned my head cautiously, afraid of what might happen next. What I saw made my breath come out in a whoosh of relief. It wasn't Harry and Frank who had the
knife, but Mickey Crowley, who stood spread-legged, blocking the entrance to the alley.

"Mickey," I said, "am I glad to see you."

Harry and Frank glared at him. "This ain't none of your affair, Crowley," said Harry. "Why don't you just butt out?"

"I wouldn't expect you to know this, Harry," said Mickey, "never having had any yourself. But Danny's a friend of mine, and friends stick together."

Mickey moved forward, raising the knife, and Harry and Frank retreated farther back into the alley. Mickey clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?"

I got shakily to my feet. "Yeah, fine."

Mickey put a hand under my chin and turned my face toward the light from the street.

"Now, would you look at that," he said. "That ain't nice. That ain't nice at all. I think I'm gonna have to spill some Sullivan blood to make up for it."

Harry and Frank shrank back into the shadows. Frank started to whimper and Harry socked him in the stomach. "Shut up," he whispered hoarsely. "Shut up or I'll kill you myself."
Poor Frank,
I thought,
born two minutes after his brother and living in his shadow ever since.

"Let 'em go," I told Mickey.

"Oh, I'll let 'em go. I just want to see them bleed a little first."

"Let 'em go now, Mick."

Mickey looked at me and frowned. "You're no
fun at all, you know that?" he said, but he lowered the knife and stepped aside. "Go on, get out of here," he told Frank and Harry. "But if I was you I'd stick close to home from now on."

Frank ran like a scared rabbit, but Harry walked by slow and deliberate. The guy has guts, I have to give him that. When he got to the entrance of the alley, he turned back and stared at us. "Nobody tells Harry Sullivan where he can and can't go," he said. "I'll be back." Then he disappeared.

Me and Mickey burst out laughing. I grabbed the knife out of his hand.

"Where the heck did you get this?" I asked.

"Pa took it off some guys last night."

Mickey's father is a night watchman.

"Yeah?" I said. "Well, he'll use it to skin you alive if he finds out you've got it."

"Aw, he won't know. I'll put it back in his drawer before he gets home. Came in handy, though, didn't it?"

I started laughing again. "I'm gonna spill me some Sullivan blood," I mimicked. "You been watching too many movies, Mickey. Poor Frank probably peed his pants."

"Ah, he deserves it."

"Nah, Frank ain't bad. He just never learned to think, that's all. Harry's been telling him what to do all his life. Harry probably kicked him in the gut the minute he was born and said, 'Cry, stupid.'"

Mickey laughed. "Yeah, you're probably right." He folded the knife and put it away and we started
walking home. He took another look at my face under the streetlamp.

"Ain't bad," he said. "Just tore up some. You were too pretty anyway."

I gave him a kick.

"Hey listen," he said. "I been waitin' for you. I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah? What?"

"Well ... uh..." Mickey suddenly seemed to lose his voice.

"What?" I said again.

"Well ... what do you say we take Kitty and Maggie to the movies tomorrow?"

I stopped and stared at him. "
Take
them to the movies? What do you mean,
take
them to the movies?"

"You know, like on a date."

"A date! You mean us pay?"

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Are you nuts? You
must
be nuts."

"Why? Would you tell me that? Why am I nuts?"

"Because I'm not paying for any girl to go see no movie. If they want to see a movie they can pay their own way, just like the rest of us."

"You know they ain't got no money with all them kids and the way their pa is."

"Yeah, well that's not my problem. In case you haven't noticed, my name ain't Rockefeller, either."

"Look, Danny, I'll pay for all of us."

"Oh sure. What'd you do, rob a bank?"

"Naw, I just got it, that's all."

I stared at him. "You didn't steal it, did you? I promised my pa I wouldn't have nothin' more to do with stealing."

"No, I didn't steal it. If you have to know, my grandmother gave me a dollar when she came to visit last weekend."

"A whole dollar?"

"Yeah, a whole dollar."

"Whew! I didn't know you had rich relatives, Mickey. I'm impressed."

"Aw, shut up. Do you wanna go or not?"

"I don't know. I still think you're crazy. Do you know what you can buy with a dollar? You could go to the movies ten times, or you could buy twenty Baby Ruths, or fifty Hooton Bars, or..."

"Will you shut up? I think I know what I can buy."

"Then why don't you?"

"'Cause I'm not a kid anymore."

"Oh, whoa.... So what are you, a man?"

"More of a man than you'll ever be."

"Aaagh!" I grabbed my throat, choking and sputtering like I was gonna die laughing.

Mickey socked me in the shoulder. "Grow up, will you?" he said. "Are you going or not?"

"No way."

"Okay," said Mickey. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to bring this up, but the way I see it, you owe me one."

I stopped laughing. He had me there.

"All right then," I said. "Have it your way. But
I'll tell you something. They're never gonna say yes. Maggie Riley will fall down laughing when we ask her."

Mickey grinned. "We'll see," he said. "We'll just see."

We had reached my stoop by then. "See you in the morning," I said.

"Wait a minute," said Mickey. "When are we gonna ask them?"

I turned to look at him. "Not now, you thick mick. Bad enough I gotta do it in the first place. I'm sure not gonna do it with a face full of blood."