Veronica’s face was grim. “Him,” she said, motioning behind her. “Mary Rose can go off with her friends and that’s O.K. But not me. My mother’s at the store, and he doesn’t want to stay there, so she said I’ve got to take him along.”
Stanley came hurrying up, and Veronica said, “You keep away from me. I can’t stand you.”
“O.K., Veronica,” Stanley said meekly, and leaned against a hydrant and made a face at Peter.
Veronica flopped down angrily on the library steps and grumbled down at the skates on her feet. “I told her just on Friday. Let me off the hook on Friday. The other days I don’t mind. But no, she said I have to take him, and that you—well, never mind about that.”
Stanley pulled something out of his pocket and called, “Veronica, you want a piece of gum?”
“Shut up, you, or I’ll ...” Veronica shook her fist, and Stanley looked at her with such a happy, adoring look that Veronica’s fist dropped into her lap, and she turned away her face and muttered helplessly, “One of these days, you’ll see what I’ll do. One of these days ...”
“Gee,” Peter said, “I figured we’d skate down to the river today and ride back on the el. I even have ten cents. I was going to treat you.”
“O.K.,” Stanley said. “Let’s go to the river.”
“Not you!” Veronica shouted. “We can’t go anywhere with you along.”
“So let’s go home, Veronica. That’s O.K. with me too.”
“Listen,” Peter said in her ear, “did you try to get him to go and stay in your parents’ store?”
“What do you think took me so long? I’ve been talking myself blue in the face but he won’t go.”
“Did you offer him something?”
“Like what?”
“You know,” Peter whispered, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Bribe him with something he likes. He’s only a little kid. Offer him something he’s dying for if he’ll stay in the store.”
Veronica drew back her head and looked thoughtfully at Peter. Then she nodded.
“Stanley,” she said in a sweet voice, “come here, Stanley.”
Stanley approached carefully.
“That’s all right, Stanley. I’m not going to hit you. Come on, that’s a boy. Here, sit down next to me.”
Stanley sat down.
“Look, Stanley, how about this? You stay at the store this afternoon with Mama and Ralph, and tomorrow I’ll take you any place you want to go.”
“Where?” asked Stanley.
“That’s up to you,” said Veronica, smiling. “Any place you like.”
“Any place?”
“Uh, huh.”
Stanley considered for a moment. Then he said eagerly, “Could we ride the double-decker bus?”
“Sure,” Veronica said agreeably. “We’ll take the train downtown and ride the buses.”
“Not the closed double-decker buses,” said Stanley. “The kind that’s open on top.
“Sure.”
“And I can sit in the front?”
“Wherever you like.”
“And just you and me?”
“Uh, huh.”
“Nobody else? Not him?” motioning to Peter.
“Just us. Maybe Mary Rose, if she wants to come.”
“No, not Mary Rose. Just us.”
“O.K., just us.”
“Back and forth. Not just one ride?”
“For as long as you like.”
“You swear to God?”
“I swear to God.” Veronica crossed her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” She stood up and held out her hand to him. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you over to the store.”
“I don’t want to go to the store.”
“But you just said if I take you riding on the double-decker bus tomorrow, you’ll stay in the store today.”
“No, I didn’t,” cried Stanley, and he began to hiccup. “I just said I want to ride the bus tomorrow, and you swore to God that you’d take me.”
Veronica reached out a curling hand for him, and he scurried away from the steps back to the hydrant.
“You—hic—promised,” he cried indignantly.
“You see how he is,” Veronica said helplessly to Peter. And she sat down again on the library steps. “You just can’t even talk to him.”
“Let me try,” Peter whispered.
He skated over toward Stanley, and Stanley retreated around the far side of the hydrant.
“Don’t be afraid, Stanley,” Peter said kindly. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Stanley,” Peter said persuasively, feeling in his pocket, “how would you like a Coke?”
Stanley kept moving around the hydrant, his eyes filled with hatred.
“If you go to the store,” Peter said, “I’ll give you a nickel and you can buy a Coke.”
“I won’t!” Stanley shouted.
“A dime?” Peter suggested. So they wouldn’t ride home on the train.
“No!”
“Let’s see,” Peter said, still not discouraged. He dug down in his pocket and began emptying its contents.
“Look, Stanley,” he said, “I’ve got these beautiful stamps from France—three of them. Look! This one’s green and this one’s blue and here—look at this beautiful orange one. And you can have all three.”
“No!”
“Hey, look what I’ve got,” Peter said enthusiastically, drawing out a small square mirror. He held it in the sunlight and let the reflection flash against the library building, the stairs, over Veronica’s skates, up the hydrant, and finally right in Stanley’s face.
Stanley blinked, licked his lips, looked hungrily at the mirror, and whispered, “No!”
Peter dug down to the very bottom of his pocket, pulled out his house key, and fished out a couple of pencils that lay underneath.
“See, Stanley, this one’s a red pencil, and this one says, KATZ’S LUMBERYARD on it, and the eraser’s not even used. You can have them both, and ...”
“What’s that?” Stanley said, pointing.
“What’s what?” Peter followed Stanley’s pointed finger. “Oh, that’s just my key.” The key was attached to a chain that also held a blue rabbit’s foot. Peter said, his eyes narrowing, “You want to hold the rabbit’s foot? Here, hold it. It brings you good luck.”
He held out the chain, and Stanley took it and rubbed the rabbit’s foot and said, “It’s soft.”
“Tell you what,” said Peter, the end plainly in sight. “I’ll give you the rabbit’s foot if you stay in the store.”
Stanley hicced and continued stroking.
“And you can have the mirror too.”
Veronica stood up. “And tomorrow I’ll take you riding on the buses.”
“Here, give me the chain, and I’ll take off the rabbit’s foot for you.”
Stanley jiggled the rabbit’s foot on the chain. “I like the chain too,” he said.
“O.K., O.K., you can have the chain too. Just let me take my key off.”
“I like the key too,” Stanley said.
“But it’s the key to my house. You don’t need the key to my house.”
“I like the key,” Stanley said stubbornly.
Peter sighed. What a crazy kid! But all right, let him keep the key then. He could always have another key made for himself.
Veronica was watching him and he said, “All right, keep the whole thing. Now let’s go!”
“Where?” said Stanley.
“To the store,” Veronica shouted.
Stanley rubbed the rabbit’s foot once more, then he twirled the chain in his hand, and flung it as far as he could into the street.
“I won’t!” he cried.
By the time Peter had retrieved his key, and been nearly knocked over by several cars and trucks, Stanley had fled halfway up the block, and Veronica was standing up looking after him.
<
br /> “I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately,” she said thoughtfully. “He never used to be like this.”
“Well you just let me know when you find out,” Peter said angrily. “I’ve wasted enough time with that brat, and that’s all for today. Good-by!”
“Good-by, Peter,” Veronica said meekly.
He began skating away, but she called after him anxiously, “Peter!”
“What?” over his shoulder, still skating.
“Next Friday, I swear, Peter, I’ll come by myself. O.K.?”
Peter slowed down and turned around. Veronica stood looking at him, and behind her, half a block beyond, Stanley stood watching too.
So the day was wasted anyway. Even if he did go off by himself, where was he going to go? Home? And his mother would ask him where he’d been and who was he with. Mothers! And that reminded him of something Veronica had said, and something that he wanted to ask her. Slowly he skated back and sat down again on the library steps.
“Aren’t you going home?” she said.
“No.” He looked at her and wondered how to ask.
“Peter,” she said hesitantly, “can I ask you something?”
“What?”
She sat down next to him and said carefully, “This party tomorrow night—are you going?”
“I guess so. Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been to that kind of a party before. I don’t think I’d like it.”
“Well, neither have I. But you know all the kids. Come on.”
She looked away and said, “Well, if I did go— and I’m not—but if I did, could I go with you?”
“Sure, if you like. But I’m going with all the fellows. We’re going to meet at Frank Scacalossi’s house and we’re going to go together. You can meet us there.”
Veronica said, “I don’t think I’m going to go.”
“Well, why not?” Peter said impatiently.
“Because,” Veronica said quickly, “I think she only invited me because she was sorry for me. She’s a nice girl, that Lorraine, and I never had any trouble with her, but I think it was really because of the snake. I mean, I don’t think she would have invited me otherwise, and I don’t really know the girls so well.”
“You know the boys,” said Peter.
“Yeah.” She and Peter grinned at each other, remembering those days back in P. S. 63 when each of the boys had fallen under the weight of Veronica’s fists.
Peter caught a glimpse of Stanley inching his way back up the street. “Just meet us over at Frank’s house at twenty minutes after seven. O.K.?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anyway, now I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
Stanley reached the hydrant and balanced himself carefully against it, his eyes, full of loathing, on Peter.
“What did your mother say?” There now, he’d asked it.
“I told you. She said I had to watch Stanley.”
“No, I mean what did she say about me?”
“Oh—well—she doesn’t know you too well. She only met you a couple of times, and ...”
“She doesn’t like me, right?”
“Well ...”
“Why doesn’t she like me?”
Veronica said evasively, “You know how it is. She thinks a big girl like me shouldn’t go around with a boy, and—well—it doesn’t matter. I’m old enough to do what I like.”
Peter took a deep breath. “Does she mind because I’m Jewish?”
“Aw, Peter!” Veronica’s face was strained.
“Come on, tell me, because my mother minds that you’re not Jewish.”
“Honestly?” Veronica brightened. “Gee, that’s great, because my mother does mind that you are Jewish. I’m so glad. I was so ashamed. I wasn’t going to tell you.”
They grinned at each other. Veronica said happily, “Maybe I will go to the party tomorrow. What time was that you’re meeting at Frank’s house?”
“Seven-twenty.” Peter stood up. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Let’s skate. We’ll go over to the park.”
“And Stanley?”
“We’ll ignore him.”
“Yaah!” yelled Stanley.
“But he won’t ignore us,” said Veronica.
“Who cares?” said Peter. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. His mother, her mother, Stanley, the whole world—nobody was going to stop him from going skating with his friend on Friday afternoon. Just let them try!
Chapter 7
“Here?” Bill Stover said. “You told her to come here? Are you crazy or something?”
There were six of them—Peter, Marv, Frank, Paul, Jeffrey, and Bill standing in front of Frank’s house ready to embark.
Paul sniffed the air around Jeffrey and said, “What’s that stuff you got on your hair? It smells like Flit.”
“It is Flit,” Frank said. “It’s supposed to keep bedbugs and girls away.”
“Aw, cut it out,” said Jeffrey, passing a hand over his head. “It’s just the stuff my father uses.”
“Your father’s bald,” said Paul.
“So how come you had to tell her to come here?” Bill said again. “Who needs her?”
“It’s a free country,” Peter said testily, wondering where she was anyway. It must be past seven-thirty. “I can ask anybody I like.”
“How come you’re not wearing a tie?” Frank said to Marv. “You look like you’ve just come from the coal mines.”
Marv fingered the collar of his plaid flannel shirt and said meekly, “I didn’t know we were supposed to wear ties. It’s not school.”
“It’s going to look just great,” Bill continued, “the six of us marching up to Lorraine’s house with her. What’ll they think?”
“Look, what are you getting all steamed up about?” Frank said, taking off his tie and putting it in his pocket. “It’s not like it was Lorraine or one of those drippy girls. It’s only Veronica.”
“I can’t stand her,” Bill said. “If I’d known she was coming I would have stayed home.”
“Well, it’s not too late now,” Peter said, waving his arm in the direction of Bill’s house. “Why don’t you go home. You’d never be missed.”
“You’re really getting nutty,” Bill shouted. “She’s really turning you into a first-class nut. All of a sudden you’re so palsy-walsy with her. It’s crazy! Last term you couldn’t stand her and this term you follow her like a sappy shadow.”
Marv said, looking at Frank’s pocket, “If you’re not going to wear that tie, could you lend it to me?”
“That’s gratitude,” said Frank. “I took it off because I didn’t want you to be the only one not wearing a tie.”
“Let’s all not wear ties,” said Jeffrey, pulling his off.
“You take that back!” Peter said, clenching his fists, and moving in on Bill.
“Come on, come on, break it up!” Frank said, handing Marv the tie. “I’ll go up and get another tie, and if she’s still not here by the time I get back, we’ll go without her.”
“You mean we’re going to wear them?” said Jeffrey, fishing his tie out of his pocket and looking at it mournfully.
Veronica still hadn’t come by the time Frank returned with another tie, so the pack of them began walking slowly in the direction of Lorraine’s house. She must have changed her mind about coming, Peter guessed, and wondered why she always seemed to avoid the other kids. One of these days he’d ask her. But wasn’t it funny how everything had changed in six months’ time. Why, back in P.S. 63, everybody was scared of Veronica. People would go in the other direction when they saw her coming. They hated her and grumbled about her all the time. But now that they were in high school, and she’d stopped fighting, she was the one who went in the other direction. Why? Some of the kids laughed at her, and he guessed she didn’t like that. He didn’t like it eit
her. But nobody really hated her any more —nobody except Bill.
Peter felt uncomfortable when he thought about Bill. Because it was his fault, really. He had worked out the plan for a gang up on Veronica last term and had drawn Bill and Paul into it. He had been to blame for the whole thing, and yet once it was over, he and Veronica were friends, Paul had laughed and forgotten, but Bill still brooded. Somehow it didn’t seem fair that Bill, who had been the most unwilling to take part in the gang up, should end up still smarting over it.
Anyway, Veronica was evidently not coming tonight. He felt a little annoyed at her because if she’d only said she wasn’t coming in the first place, he wouldn’t have had that argument with Bill. But maybe it was just as well that she wasn’t coming. He had other things to worry about tonight, like what do you do at a party with girls? And would Roslyn Gellert be there? And if she was, would she think he looked as handsome as his mother said he did? And would his father be waiting outside for him even though he promised he wouldn’t?
“Well, what do we do after it’s over?” Jeffrey said urgently, as they paused before going up the stairs of Lorraine’s house.
“What do you mean?” said Bill.
“My mother said you have to take them home.”
“Why?” said Marv. “They know how to get home themselves.”
“No, he’s right,” said Frank. “A boy is supposed to take a girl home after a party at night.”
“I’ll take Lorraine home,” Paul said, grinning,
“That’s not fair,” said Frank.
“Why not? You always say you hate her the most.”
“It has nothing to do with that,” shouted Frank. “It’s because she lives here.”
“Who are you going to take home, Peter?” said Jeffrey.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, knowing whom he’d like to take. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know. How about you, Bill?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me, neither.”
“You, Marv?”
“How should I know.”
When they finally made it up the stairs, Lorraine opened the door for them and said brightly, “Hi— you’re late. Come on in.”
They could hear the sound of music coming from the living room down at the end of the hall. As they passed the kitchen, Mrs. Jacobs looked out and smiled and nodded at them.
Peter and Veronica Page 5