Then Again, Maybe I Won't

  * * *

  I’m kind of glad me and Joel aren’t in the same homeroom. This way I can get to make some other friends. But there’s one thing that bothers me. When you have somebody your age living next door either you wind up great buddies or you don’t talk at all. I’m still not sure how it’s going to turn out with us.

  Junior high isn’t as bad as I thought it might be. Once you get used to those bells ringing all the time and going to different rooms for different subjects it’s pretty good. You feel a lot older than sixth grade.

  Two guys from my homeroom are in all my other classes—Marty Endo and Scott Gold. The three of us stick together. That way if we have trouble finding the right classrooms we look stupid as a group instead of three individual stupids.

  Joel turned up in my English class, which is the period right before lunch. When the bell rang we went to the cafeteria together. The cafeteria is really neat.

  Joel brought his lunch from home. He carried it around with him in a brown bag. But he bought his milk and an apple. I bought the whole school lunch. So did Marty Endo and Scott Gold.

  During the first week of school I found out why Joel brings his lunch instead of buying it. He likes some strange sandwiches. Salami, tomato and mayonnaise is his favorite. His second favorite is onion slices on buttered whole wheat bread. Either way you have to keep a safe distance from him after lunch. I think he enjoys breathing hard after he eats—especially on the girls.

  One thing I don’t like about the cafeteria is the cashiers. They’re all ninth graders. You can tell by the way they look and by the way they ignore the seventh graders. To an eighth grader the cashier might say, “Hi.” But to a seventh grader, nothing! Now that’s a real shock after being in sixth grade where you’re the boss of the whole school. Next year I plan to treat the new seventh graders the same way.

  I joined the Junior Youth Group at church. It meets every Tuesday night from seven to nine. You have to be in seventh or eighth grade to belong. Marty Endo joined too. And a skinny girl named Corky from our homeroom. Father Pissaro the Second stopped in during our first meeting to ask how we were getting along. We all said, “Fine, Father.” Then he smiled and left.

  Our Youth Group leader is Ted Gibbons. He’s a sophomore at Long Island Community College. He’s really tall, wears glasses, and it looks like he’s growing a moustache. When he wants our attention he waves his arms around and hollers, “Simmer down!” Since there are twenty-four of us it takes a long time to get quiet. Ted told us about some of the things we’ll be doing this year. The one I like best is, we’re going to have our own basketball team.

  Corky raised her hand and asked if she could start a cheerleaders club to go along with the basketball team.

  Ted said, “Sure.”

  I think Corky looked at me and smiled then. I didn’t smile back. I can’t stand skinny girls.

  All in all me and Marty Endo agreed that Junior Youth Group seems pretty good. Marty’s a nice guy. He reminds me of Frankie, only he’s really smart in school. He asked me to go to the movies with him next weekend. He said maybe Scott Gold and Joel can come too. I told him that sounded great. Then I remembered I didn’t have any spending money. Mom hands me enough for lunch and Ralph brings me all my school supplies, but there’s nothing left for extras. In Jersey City I used to keep a little of my paper route money so I never had to ask Pop for a handout. That’s what got me thinking maybe I should get a paper route in Rosemont.

  So on Sunday night I said, “I think I’ll try to get a new paper route.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mom asked. “You’re not getting any paper route!”

  “Why not? I’ve got a great bike.”

  “That’s crazy,” Mom said. “Vic … tell him that’s crazy.”

  “Do you miss your old job, Tony?” Pop asked. “Is that it?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But I could use the money.”

  “Vic … Tony needs an allowance,” my mother said. “I don’t know why I never thought about it.”

  “How much do you need?” Pop asked.

  “Whatever Joel gets,” my mother said. “How much, Tony?”

  “I don’t know what he gets,” I told her.

  “Well, find out,” she said. “You should get the same.”

  “How’s ten bucks?” Pop asked.

  “You mean a week?” I said.

  “Can you manage on that, Tony?” Mom asked.

  I laughed. “Well, yeah … sure! That’s plenty.”

  “Good,” Pop said. “You buy your lunch out of that, but if you need more you come to me. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Thanks, Pop.”

  “And don’t let me hear you talking about a paper route anymore,” my mother added.

  Wow! Ten bucks a week. I wonder what Frankie would say?

  Every morning when we get to school me and Joel park our bikes in this huge rack. We all have our own locks and keys. I wear my key around my neck on a silver chain so I won’t lose it. To tell the truth I don’t know how I would manage in Rosemont without my ten-speed bike.

  After school on most days I shoot baskets while Joel sits on the grass watching me. He has a stack of paperback books he’s working on. What he does is underline certain passages and then paperclip those pages so it’s easy to find what he’s looking for. He showed me a couple of them one day. They’re pretty good. Our gym teacher told us if we start to think about those things we should keep our mind on sports and that will help a lot. He told us about wet dreams too, only he calls them nocturnal emissions. I’m still not sure if I’ll ever have one.

  When I read Joel’s paperbacks I can feel myself get hard. But other times when I’m not even thinking about anything it goes up too. I don’t know what to do about that. I mean, if my brain is working right it’s supposed to control my whole body. But if I don’t have any control over that part of me what good is my brain? It’s getting so I don’t have anything to say about what goes on. I think that part of me has a mind of its own.

  Suppose it decides to go up in school and everybody notices? Or at a Junior Youth Group meeting? What will I do to get it down? I think from now on I’m going to carry a raincoat with me every day. Then, if anything happens I’ll have something to put over me in a hurry.

  When football season started me and Joel rode our bikes to the high school field every time there was a home game. Lisa is a cheerleader. She wears red boots and a white sweater with a big R on it. I like the way her hair flops around when she’s yelling cheers.

  Sometimes she talks to us during halftime. It depends on her mood. Other times you’d think we were strangers. One day Lisa really put on the big sister act. She hugged me and Joel together and told the rest of the cheerleaders, “These are my favorite guys!” I knew it was a big joke between her and her friends but I didn’t care. Because she was touching me and it felt good.

  Corky goes to every game too. She hangs around Lisa a lot. Joel told me Lisa is teaching Corky how to be a cheerleader. Corky ought to get Lisa to teach her some other things too. Because Corky looks like a fifth grader. You can’t even tell if she’s a boy or a girl unless she happens to be wearing a skirt, which is practically never. Her hair is cut short and she’s really small. She spends a lot of time giggling. I’ll bet Lisa never giggled in her whole life!

  One afternoon on the way home from the game Joel asked me if I’d go to the store with him. He needed some notebook paper. I said, “Sure Joel.”

  We left our bikes up against the side of the store and Joel went straight to the counter where the school supplies were. He bought two packages of wide-ruled three-hole looseleaf paper. He paid the saleslady and took the bag she gave him.

  “I’m done,” he said. “You need anything?”

  “No. I’ve got plenty. Ralph brought me a whole bunch of supplies last week.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  We walked side by side to the front of the store. I couldn’t believe it when Joe
l grabbed three flashlight batteries from a bin and shoved them into his pockets. I saw him do it. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t even look back to see if anybody in the store noticed. He just kept walking with that funny lopsided smile on his face. I was sure he was kidding around.

  But when we got on our bikes and started for home and he still didn’t say anything I knew he wasn’t kidding. Should I say something? I wondered. Like uh … “I saw you take those batteries, Joel. Who do you think you’re fooling!” Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.

  We rode home without a word. When we got to my driveway Joel said, “Why don’t you sleep over tonight? That’d be great. I’ll show you Lisa’s diary and everything. And I’ve been working on some new books too—real good ones. I’ll even let you read them.”

  “I don’t know, Joel,” I said, very unfriendly.

  “Come on, Tony.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  Joel went to his house and I went to mine. I locked myself up in my bathroom for about thirty minutes. My stomach hurt bad.

  Is taking three batteries worse than cheating in arithmetic? Frankie used to cheat in arithmetic all the time in Jersey City. I never reported him. And how about the telephone booth at the Y? We all used to shake it to make change come out. And when it did I always helped myself like the other guys. Is taking three batteries worse than that? Well, what if it is! What am I supposed to do about it—call the police? I suppose I could. I wouldn’t have to give them my name or anything. Or I could tell the man in the store about it. But I don’t want to. Really, what I want to do is get a look at Lisa’s diary.

  If I tell on Joel we’ll never be able to be friends. Just when things are looking good and I’m feeling settled. It would be bad news to have to start out all over again.

  So I told my mother I was going to sleep over at Joel’s.

  “Who invited you?” Mom asked.

  “Joel did.”

  “Is it all right with his mother?”

  “How should I know?” Why do I have to get permission for every little thing I do? Isn’t it enough to tell her where I’m going? Why does she have to make such a big thing out of it?

  But she called Mrs. Hoober anyway. The last thing I heard her say before she hung up was, “Well, I guess it’s okay if just the maid is home. After all, Vic and I are right next door.”

  I went to Joel’s after supper. I got there in time to see his mother and father leave for a dance at the country club and then to see Lisa leave with her date, a senior from Rosemont High who looks like a monkey. I wondered why she was wasting her time on him. I wanted to shout, “Hey Lisa … this guy’s a creep! Don’t go out with him. Stay home with us. You and Joel can watch TV and I’ll watch you. Please stay, Lisa.…”

  But she didn’t. She gave the monkey a big smile when he helped her on with her coat. She left without even saying goodbye.

  Joel and I were on our own. He explained that Millicent was closed up in her room where she has her own TV. Then he checked his watch and said, “I have to make a phone call. Come on.”

  I followed him upstairs. He said, “I wish I had my own phone, like Lisa. Then I wouldn’t have to go into my parents’ bedroom all the time.”

  I have never seen a bedroom like Mr. and Mrs. Hoober’s. They have a round bed. It’s hard to believe anybody really sleeps on it. It’s two steps up from the rest of the room and I thought, if you fall out of bed here you also fall down the stairs. I started to laugh. Besides the bed being round there’s a lamp hanging over it. If Mr. Hoober sits up in bed does he whack his head on it?

  Joel jumped up the two steps and sat down on the edge of the bed. He took the phone off the hook, and dialed. He examined his fingernails while he waited for someone to answer. “Hello,” he finally said. “Is Denton F. Buchanan in? Oh … I’m sorry sir. I’ll dial again.”

  I wondered who Denton F. Buchanan was.

  Joel hung up and tried again. “Hello. May I please speak to Denton F. Buchanan. What? Wrong number … the second time? I’m terribly sorry sir.”

  He looked up at me and smiled as he dialed again.

  “Hey, why don’t you check the phone book, Joel,” I suggested.

  He dismissed me with a wave of one hand. He got his number. “Hello … Denton F. Buchanan please. Yes, I’m sure this is the number he gave me sir. Yes … well, I do understand. But I have checked with information sir. Certainly. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “Joel,” I said. “Will you look it up? Who is he anyway?”

  “You’ll see,” Joel said. “This is my last phone call.”

  He dialed. “Hello,” he said, disguising his voice. He made it sound very deep, which isn’t exactly easy the way his voice changes around from high to low all the time. “This is Denton F. Buchanan calling. Have there been any calls for me?”

  Then he hung up and rolled around on the bed laughing and holding his sides. “Isn’t that the greatest! That poor guy. He really thought I was serious at first.”

  More laughing and rolling around—now tears running down his face. “Who was he?” I asked.

  “Who knows! I just made up the number. I always do that.”

  “You were fooling around?” I asked. “You don’t know any Denton F. Buchanan?”

  “Of course I don’t know any Denton F. Buchanan! I don’t know any Manfred T. Oliver either.” Joel sat up. “That’s the other name I like to use. You’ve got to try it. You’ve got to hear how funny it is at the other end.”

  “Now?” I asked. I really didn’t want to call anybody. I think you can get into big trouble for fooling around on the phone. But if I refuse Joel will call me chicken.

  “You can’t call now,” he said. “I only make one call a night. The next time you’re over you can try it. Okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. Whew—now he won’t know I’m chicken. “Listen, what about Lisa’s diary?” I didn’t want to seem too anxious but after all, that was the main reason I decided to accept Joel’s invitation to spend the night.

  “Oh yeah. I promised, didn’t I. Come on.”

  I followed Joel to the opposite end of the upstairs hallway. Lisa’s room is right next to Millicent’s. Joel held a finger over his lips as we tiptoed past her door. Inside Lisa’s room Joel snapped on a light and whispered that he’s not allowed in there. It’s off-limits.

  He shut the door. Lisa’s bedroom is all pink and white. Girly looking. Her room faces the side of my house. I looked out her window and saw my room across the way. My shades were up. The light from our upstairs hallway made it easy to see everything. I’d have to be a lot more careful about pulling down my shades from now on. I wouldn’t want Lisa to be able to see me. I hope she doesn’t know that’s my room.

  “Psst … give me a hand with this mattress,” Joel whispered. “She keeps it under here.”

  I held up the mattress while Joel searched. But all he came up with was a note. It said:

  too bad snooper

  your sister’s smarter than you think!!!

  “How about that!” Joel said. “She found out and moved it. Well, never mind. We’ll find it. It’s got to be in here some place.”

  He started searching her dresser drawers, then went to her desk, dressing table and finally to her closet. But he couldn’t find it anywhere. I could tell he was embarrassed because he promised he’d show it to me and now he couldn’t make good on his promise.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “Forget it,” I told him. I didn’t want him to think I cared much.

  Just as Joel was climbing back down from Lisa’s top closet shelf the door opened. It was Millicent. She looked funny. She was wrapped in a plaid blanket and her hair was up in curlers.

  “What you doing?” she asked.

  “Never mind,” Joel said.

  “What never mind! I gonna tell on you, Joel. You no supposed to be in here. This time I gonna tell.”

  Joel shook his finger at her. “Will you listen to that!”
he said to me. “Is she a good one? You tell on me, Millicent. You go ahead. Then I’ll tell on you!” Joel shouted.

  “What you mean?” Millicent asked.

  “You know,” Joel said.

  I didn’t much like him having a fight with Millicent in front of me. I don’t think you’re supposed to talk to somebody who works for you like that.

  “Oh … you give me hard time, Joel. But some day God gonna punish you! You wait.” Millicent crossed herself and left. I heard her slam the door to her bedroom.

  Joel turned out Lisa’s light and we went back to his room. “How do you know she’s not going to tell on you?” I asked.

  “She wouldn’t dare!” Joel laughed. “She’s scared of me! I caught her trying on my mother’s clothes one night. If I tell my mother she’ll lose her job. And she knows it!”

  I’m beginning to change my mind about Joel. He’s not the kind of creep I thought he was when I first met him. He might last longer than a week in Jersey City after all. But the more I know about him the more I’m not sure if I want to be his friend.

  Then Again,

  Maybe I Won’t

  On October 19th Angie had a baby girl. My father was disappointed. “A first baby and it’s a girl! There hasn’t been a girl born first in my family for five generations!”

  “So what?” my mother said. “A girl’s just as good. Anyway, I always wanted a daughter. Now I have a granddaughter!”

  They named the baby Vincenza, after my brother Vinnie—just like Grandma planned. But everybody is supposed to call her Vicki for short. Lucky for her—who’d want to go through life with a name like Vincenza?

  When Angie came home from the hospital we all went to Queens to visit the new baby. My mother said she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her whole life. I thought the baby looked like a plucked chicken, but I didn’t say so.

  Grandma stood over Vicki making funny faces but all Vicki did was cry. Then the baby-nurse, Mrs. Buttfield, told us we’d better not stay long because new mothers and new babies shouldn’t have too much company right away. She said this like she owned Vicki.