“Did you hear what happened?” the giant asked. Mercifully, he went on before Henry could answer. “Some wise guys, probably from down the street, invaded the place. Damaged Mr. Levine’s village but must have been scared off. They didn’t finish the job, didn’t have time to touch any other benches. …”
“Poor Mr. Levine,” Henry said, wondering if the guilt in his eyes was visible.
“Look at him,” the giant said. “A survivor. He just started over again. Nothing can defeat him. The exhibition has been postponed. Maybe till Christmastime.” Scrutinizing Henry from his great height, he said, “We missed you, Henry. Is everything all right with you? Your family?”
“We’re moving back to Frenchtown,” he said.
The giant relayed the news to Mr. Levine, who got to his feet and embraced Henry. They held each other for a long moment.
“Wait,” the old man said, reaching into his black bag. He drew out a smallfigure and placed it in Henry’s hand. Henry recognized himself, his blue shirt, the tousled hair that never stayed combed. He studied the big smile on the tiny wooden face. Henry Cassavant, three inches high, but smiling and sturdy. He would keep this figure for the rest of his life and look at it sometimes and remember this summer. Someday, perhaps, he would be able to look at it and return the smile.
In the evening of the first day back in Frenchtown, he searched the drawers and closets of the tenement until he found what he was looking for. He ducked out of the house and made his way to St. Jude’s Cemetery. Dusk was gathering, a spooky fog. He speared Eddie’s old bat into the soft earth of the grave. He put the scarred and lopsided baseball at the base of the bat. He stepped back, admiring the effect. He did not know how long they would remain before being snatched away, but for this one moment, this one evening, Eddie had his monument.
He knelt and began to pray. Prayed for his father and mother and Eddie’s soul in case he was still in purgatory. Prayed for Doris and the old man. And the giant. When he whispered “Deliver us from evil” at the end of the Our Father, he thought of Mr. Hairston. Then he did something he had never done before. He prayed for Mr. Hairston. “Forgive him,” he whispered.
Forgive me too.
He continued to kneel there as dusk deepened into night, bringing a chill that raced along his bare arms, and the bat and ball caught the first light of an emerging moon.
Robert Cormier (1925–2000) changed the face of young adult literature over the course of his illustrious career. His many novels include The Chocolate War, Beyond the Chocolate War, I Am the Cheese, Fade, Tenderness, After the First Death, Heroes, Frenchtown Summer, and The Rag and Bone Shop. In 1991, he received the Margaret A. Edwards Award, honoring his lifetime contribution to writing for teens.
Robert Cormier, Tunes for Bears to Dance To
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