*****
Wooden crates lined each side of the alley behind Pops’ Market. At the end of the alley a well-worn path led to the Apple Grove Community Center. Now empty, the building stood waiting to decay.
On one side of the alley, Benny and Bug were sitting on overturned fruit crates. Benny was spinning his basketball on the first finger of his left hand. As he slapped the ball with his right hand, it spun faster and faster. Next to him, Bug sat with his arms wrapped around his knees holding them tight to his chest. His chin rested between them.
On the other side of the alley, someone had made a bench by placing a long board on top of two empty lard cans. Cindy Carter, Moe Harris, and Cliff sat there. Cindy was Bug’s neighbor who had just moved to Apple Grove from Mountain View. Her long brown hair was in pigtails, and she wore glasses that looked like a cat’s eyes.
Cindy liked Bug, she had a secret crush on him in fact, which almost everyone in the fifth grade knew. Everyone except Bug, that is. Whenever he came near, she would flutter her eyelashes at him and sigh. Cindy liked Bug not just because he was the only boy in fifth grade that was taller than her, but Bug always let her play basketball with the boys. Cindy was so tall that Mrs. Tyson always asked her to pull down the maps above the blackboard when she needed them.
On the other hand, Moe Harris had a body like a fireplug, short and stout. His hair, the color of tar, looked as if his mother put a pot on his head when she cut it. Outward appearances aside, Moe was quite possibly the smartest kid in Apple Grove Elementary School. In fifth grade Moe had already begun to do algebra and geometry. Not surprising, athletics were not Moe’s favorite pastime. When Moe went to the community center, he spent his time at the pool table. One night, Moe won 16 games in a row. “It was just geometry,” he said, “no big deal.”
Benny stood and looked at everyone in the alley. “Okay, gang, thanks for coming. You might know by now that we have problems. To start, Mayor Macalister closed down the community center today. He said it was because of some man from the State Highway Department named Lester something or other.”
“Boo,” Moe hissed. “That’s a funny name, Lester something or other!”
“No, his name is Babbish, Lester Babbish,” Bug said. “I talked to Pops. He said Babbish is in charge of the Toll-Way. Pops said he knew him when he was a boy. He said Lester lived on a farm next to Exit 24. The mayor said that Babbish was the one who decided to close the tollbooth at Exit 23.
“What does Babbish and the Toll-Way have to do with the community center?” Cindy asked. “I don’t get it.” She turned and looked at Moe and Cliff with a puzzled look. “I don’t get it.”
“Good question. The city gets the money for the community center from the Toll-Way,” Cliff replied. “So if the Toll-Way money disappears, there’s no money for the community center.”
“All we have to do is figure out a way to make some money, and we should be able to get the center open again. We’ll have you back to work in no time. I promise,” Bug said.
“Sure, Cliff, in a couple of days or so we’ll have you back working at the community center,” said Benny. “You watch, we’ll do it, no problem.”
“Guys, I don’t think it’s that easy. It takes a whole lot of money to run the community center.” Cliff raised his hands to the sides of his cheeks and pressed them. When he did this, his mouth looked like a fish’s mouth. “Besides, do you think the mayor would let us back in even if we got the money?”
“Cliff, hey, Cliff, what are you guys talking about? Back to work?” Where the voice came from, no one knew. “I thought you worked for the Toll-Way.”
All the gang glanced around to see who asked that question. They looked to the left towards Grove Street and then back to the right. They didn’t see anyone.
“Bug, who said that?” Cindy asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t see anyone, are we hearing voices?” Bug answered.
“Hey! Up here,” said the voice. Everyone strained to see up to the roof of Pops’ Market. “No, look over here.”
Everyone turned and looked up to see a man at the top of a telephone pole halfway between Pops’ Market and Grove Street. It was Bill, the telephone man. He had a harness that held him to the pole, and sturdy, leather boots that had long metal spikes that he used to climb the pole.
“Cliff, what happened? Why aren’t you at the toll booth anymore?" Bill asked.
“The State Highway Department shut down Exit 23, and that means I don’t have a day job,” answered Cliff. “The mayor closed the community center, and I don’t have a night job now either.”
“Gee, I sure am sorry to hear that. I wish there was something I could do to help you guys,” Bill said. “Do you have any ideas yet?”
“Do you think we should have a bake sale?” Cindy asked .
“What about collecting pop bottles for the deposit?” Moe asked. “If each of us could find twelve per day, times seven days a week, times two cents apiece, let’s see, it would take…”
“That won’t work, it’ll take too long,” Bug cried.
“He’s right. We have to find something that can make some real money,” said Benny. “Maybe we could buy an old house to fix up. We could turn around and sell…”
“No, we don’t have the money to do that,” Cliff chimed in.
“Okay guys, settle down,” Bill said. “Here is what I suggest you do. First of all, you need to sit down with Pops and talk to him about this. He might have some ideas. Second, you need to know that this may take a while to be resolved. So when you come up with a plan you can count me in, okay?”
“Ok,” Bug said.
“Whatever Bug thinks is okay is fine with me,” Cindy said with a sigh.
“Sure, I get it,” added Benny.
“I’m ready to go,” replied Moe.
“Thanks, Bill, it’s good to know you’re behind us,” said Cliff. Turning back to the gang, Cliff began to give instructions. “Alright, here’s the plan. Cindy, you go home and start thinking about what we could make if we have a bake sale. Moe, you go home and begin to figure out how much we would have to sell to get the community center open again. Benny, you need to see if your dad would let you use his lawn mower to cut lawns. Bug and I are going home, and at supper, we’re going to get Pops’ advice. He’ll know what to do, I’m sure he will. Pops’ advice is always the best.”
“Alright, everyone, you know what you need to do. Let’s do it, and meet back here tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp.”
5
THE GANG RESPONDS
“Hello, Mayor. Babbish here. Are things going as planned? Is Exit 23 still closed? Good. What did you say? You had to close the Apple Grove Community Center? There is no money from the Toll-Way. Hmm. So what, it’s just a bunch of snotty kids, anyhow. So be it.”
Babbish leaned back, feet crossed on the desk. “I know what Cliff Beetle said. If he or any of the kids get in our way I’ll take care of things myself, understood?” Babbish hung up the phone and reached down to the floor where a large Himalayan cat lay. “Come here, little kitty.”
The cat arched its back and hissed, then ran out of the room.
“Look, cat, mess with me and I’ll get rid of you too, just like I got rid of Exit 23.”