I and Sproggy

by Constance C. Greene

  “Not likely,” she said in an English accent, and they both laughed. It was all right.

  “I might tell you in a little while what’s on my mind,” Adam said. “It’s getting better, though,” he sighed. “There are just some things you can’t tell your mother right away,” he said.

  “Good heavens, that sounds ominous.” She brushed his hair off his forehead. “It can’t be that bad. Can it?”

  “It depends on what you mean by ‘that bad,’” Adam said. “What’s bad to you isn’t necessarily bad to me. And vice versa.”

  She thought about that for a minute. “That’s true,” she said. “You are getting older and wiser, my friend.”

  “I know,” he said.

  For lack of anything better to do, he cruised by the park bench to see what was going on. Nothing. Low clouds scudded in the sky, and the sunlight filtered through without much enthusiasm. A couple of guys were throwing a Frisbee around. Adam stood and watched. They didn’t throw it his way or even look at him, so he moved on.

  “Hey,” he said to the guard at Gracie Mansion, “a friend of mine’s coming to a party here on Sunday.”

  “Sunday’s my day off,” the guard said. “I and the wife are going to New Rochelle for her folks’ wedding anniversary. Thirty-five glorious years of togetherness. We all chipped in and bought them a color TV. They’ll cry when they see it.”

  Adam nodded. A jogger came down East End Avenue, head back, mouth open, eyes half shut. Joggers always looked as if they were in agony, Adam thought, but they must be having a good time. Otherwise, why would they jog? Life was full of questions and very few answers, Adam decided.

  When he checked a little later, Steve and Kenny were sitting there, waiting.

  “It’s about time,” Steve said.

  “I wasn’t sure I was coming,” Adam said, “after the fight. I told you guys I wasn’t in the club any more. Where’s Sproggy? Trying to scare up another quarter?”

  “You’re a million laughs,” Kenny told him.

  “She couldn’t come today. We wanted to have a business meeting, settle our finances,” Steve said. “My father says if an organization’s finances are in a muddle, it’s in trouble.”

  “Why don’t we ask your father to join?” Adam asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, he’s too busy.” Steve was serious.

  “I’m the treasurer, right?” Kenny said. “I’m in charge of collecting the dues.” He checked his notebook. “You’re in arrears,” he told Adam.

  “I told you I was out,” Adam said. “If it’s a chess club, I can’t play chess so that lets me out.”

  “We changed it,” Steve said. “We’re going to make it an investment club instead. We study the market, read the report every day, and plan on what stocks we’ll invest in.”

  Kenny saw Adam looking at him. “That was his idea,” he said, pointing to Steve. “Not mine.”

  “Why’d you change it from a chess club?” Adam asked.

  “It was Sproggy,” Kenny said with a long face. “She beat us all the time. She kept stealing our pawns. It wasn’t any fun, her winning all the time, so we decided to change.”

  Adam was glad. He couldn’t help himself. “Is she going to be in the investment club?” he said. She’ll corner the market, he thought. He didn’t know what cornering the market meant, except that it was good, but it seemed logical that Sproggy would accomplish this feat.

  “Sure,” Steve said, “she paid her dues.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” Adam said. “What about not letting in girls? I thought that’s what we decided.”

  “She’s not like a regular girl,” Kenny said. “I mean, she doesn’t giggle and she doesn’t give us a hard time. Not like my sisters.”

  “If she was your sister, she’d give you a hard time,” Adam told him.

  “You got a point,” Kenny agreed. “But she’s sort of your sister and she doesn’t give you a hard time.”

  Adam shrugged. No sense going into that. Sproggy was taller, stronger, smarter, able to handle herself better than he was.

  And he had to learn to live with that and follow through on the promise he’d made to his father.

  He couldn’t do it. It was too tough, looking after a red-headed Mafioso. Maybe if he was eleven he could handle her. But ten, as he’d already found out, was a bad age.

  It wasn’t until he was almost home that he realized he’d forgotten to tell Steve and Kenny about Charlie going to a party at Gracie Mansion. He’d call first thing in the morning.

  CHAPTER 15

  Adam slept late Saturday. When he woke, it was already six. He got a glass of orange juice and turned on the TV. A program about agriculture in the U.S.A. was the best bet. Then he had to make a choice between Sunrise Semester and Casper and Friends. He settled on Casper. Rosalie watched for a couple of minutes, but ghosts always freaked her out so she disappeared.

  The sun might come out today. Two days left until school. Adam stood on his head for a while. The TV wasn’t any better or worse that way. Just different. The orange juice threatened to come back up so he lay flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

  Tomorrow was the big one. He couldn’t wait to station himself at the fence outside Gracie Mansion and watch Charlie go up the steps, an honored and invited guest. If it couldn’t be him, he was glad it was Charlie. Second place was better than none. He’d get all the scoop from Charlie and have plenty to tell his friends. With what Charlie said and his own vivid imagination, he could get together a pretty good story. Fact and fiction were not inseparable, Adam had long ago discovered.

  “How come you slept so late?” he asked his mother as she wandered out to the kitchen, yawning.

  She only looked at him. She didn’t like to talk much when she first woke up.

  “I’ve been up for hours,” Adam said. “I’m going to goof off today,” he told her. “Not do much of anything.”

  She drank her first cup of coffee.

  “That’ll be a nice change,” she said when she’d finished.

  The telephone rang. It was Mr. Early. “Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

  “That’s O.K.,” Adam told him. “I’ve been up for hours.”

  “Me, too. The thing is, I’m going down to Jersey again, if you can believe it.” Mr. Early laughed apologetically. “That widow I told you about? Well, she called last night, asked me down for Sunday dinner. Says she’s got a special dish she worked up just for me. Liver and sausage rolls wrapped in bacon. Sounds mighty tasty, eh?”

  Adam made a noise which could’ve meant almost anything. He thought of saying that Sproggy called hot dogs sausage rolls but decided against it. It seemed he and Mr. Early always wound up talking about food, disgusting food.

  “She says the ocean’s been like a bathtub,” Mr. Early went on, “so I told her I’d take the bus down. God knows I can’t stand much of that ocean, even if it is like a bathtub. Fills my suit up with sand, like I told you, so I can hardly stand up.”

  The idea of Mr. Early in a bathing suit boggled Adam’s mind.

  “Will you feed Burton again for me? I’ll be home on the first bus Monday morning, so if you’ll pop in on Sunday I’d appreciate it,” Mr. Early said. “I know you have a very important engagement Monday morning so you want to get your rest Sunday night. I can hear those old school bells ringing right this minute.” He laughed. “Can you manage Burton on Sunday?”

  “Sure,” Adam said.

  “Same rates,” Mr. Early said.

  “You don’t have to pay me. You already overpaid,” Adam said.

  “It’s worth it to me. You’re a reliable, trustworthy worker,” Mr. Early said. “Not too many like you around these days.”

  After he’d hung up, Adam thought about that. I don’t know, he said to himself. I know a bunch of reliable, trustworthy kids. There’s Kenny. Well, maybe. Not as good as me, I don’t think. There’s Steve. So-so. How about a girl in his class named Emily MacFadden? She was both those things. She got to t
ake messages to the principal’s office, collect papers, cleaned the blackboard, everything. Emily was prim and well-behaved. Her neck was always clean. When she wrote a book report, you could tell she’d read every word, not just the first and last chapter and the front flap, like some he could mention.

  Adam headed for the river. There was something soothing about watching the water move, he thought. Maybe he’d be a tugboat captain when he grew up.

  As Adam rounded the corner of Eighty-eighth Street and East End Avenue, the brisk wind caught him in the face, bringing the river smell to his nose. And to his ears came a racket from a group of girls across the street. It looked like Janice the Grub and some of her cronies standing in a circle, chanting at someone or something Adam couldn’t see.

  “Evangelion!” they shouted, “Evangelion!” and the circle let out a roar that would likely wake the Mayor if he was still asleep. If they weren’t careful, Adam thought, the guard would think they were a radical group demonstrating against something and call the police.

  A mad flurry of activity inside the circle caused the formation to break slightly. The girls put up their arms to protect themselves from a swinging object that clipped them on their heads. Adam had a sudden feeling that he knew who was landing those blows.

  “You stop that, you just stop that!” Janice the Grub shrieked. A girl with a nasty, molelike face shouted, “Pip pip and all that sort of rot, Evangelion!” and started to run away.

  He’d been right. It was Sproggy, swinging her backpack, taking off after the fleeing tormentor. Just as she was about to come close enough to land another blow, Sproggy fell. Flat on the sidewalk. Adam had done that. He knew how it felt, how the wind was knocked out of you and the temptation to throw up was intense. The group left behind pulled themselves together, adjusted their clothing, and made no effort to help Sproggy. They stood, pointing at her.

  “Serves her right,” Adam heard one of them say. “Nasty thing. Why doesn’t she go back where she came from? What a stupid name!” They turned and walked away. The girl Sproggy had been chasing was nowhere in sight. Adam figured she was still running.

  “You all right, Sproggy?” he said, putting out his hand to her. Her nose was running, her face wet with tears. She closed her eyes for a minute, shook her head, taking deep breaths. Adam put his hands behind his back and looked away from her, giving her a chance to pull herself together. “If you want, I’ll give you a hand up,” he said.

  She sat up and rubbed her knee. “I shall be quite all right in a moment,” she said, “but I don’t have a handkerchief.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Adam fumbled in his pockets. He found a necktie he’d stuffed in his pants weeks ago. He handed it to her, and she blew her nose as best she could on the slippery red and yellow striped tie. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll ask Mummy to wash it out and return it.”

  “Oh, that’s O.K., I don’t need it,” Adam replied. “You O.K.?” he asked. He thought, this must be the first time in her life she’s ever been trounced. And humiliated.

  “I thought she was my friend,” Sproggy said, sniffing. “Then she found out my name was Evangeline and she told them and they started to make fun of me. How can I help it if my name’s Evangeline? I don’t think that’s such a bad name, do you?”

  Adam considered. “I never heard it before,” he said. “I never knew what your name was. I guess it’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Anyway, what difference does it make?”

  “A great deal,” Sproggy said, very dignified.

  “I like Sproggy better,” Adam said. “Sproggy’s a nice name.”

  Her face brightened. “Do you really think so?” she said. “I’m so glad. Do you know that’s the first time you ever said anything nice to me?” she said in astonishment.

  Adam had the grace to blush. He felt ashamed. She had spoken the truth.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Adam put out his hand again, and this time she took it and pulled herself upright.

  “They didn’t know I was such a good shot with my backpack,” she said. “I have very good aim.”

  “Yes,” Adam said in a respectful voice, “you do.” He promised himself he’d stay out of her way, never aggravate her again.

  “It was very kind of you to come to my rescue,” Sproggy said. “Thank you, Adam.”

  He felt himself getting red in the face. It was the first time anyone had called him kind. “You want a Coke?” he said.

  “I don’t have any money,” Sproggy said.

  “I meant I’d treat you,” Adam told her. “I have some money from Mr. Early for feeding Burton.”

  “Oh, that would be super!” Sproggy cried. “How simply ripping!” and she slung her backpack into place on her shoulder, narrowly missing Adam’s head. They walked over toward the deli on York Avenue.

  “Hey, buddy,” a large, scroungy young man in blue jeans said to Adam, “got a quarter?”

  Adam thought fast. “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” he said coolly. “Me and my sister here, we ain’t eaten in two days.”

  “No kidding?” The young man dipped into his pocket. “Hey, I can’t stand seeing a couple of kids starve. Be my guest.” He handed Adam two quarters. “It’s not much, but it’s my whole day’s take,” he said. “Things are slow this time of year.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said.

  Sproggy’s mouth hung open. She said nothing. Zilch. Adam took long, slow, high steps. The Bionic Man off to the deli. He felt very good. She followed close behind him.

  “How super! How absolutely super!” she said.

  “I bet you thought that guy was a creep, didn’t you?” Adam said. “And he turned out to be a nice guy.”

  “You told him I was your sister.”

  “Two ice-cold Cokes, please,” Adam said to the clerk.

  “To go,” said Sproggy.

  The clerk looked surprised. “I didn’t think you were going to drink them here,” he said.

  CHAPTER 16

  When Adam went up to Mr. Early’s Sunday morning, Burton seemed depressed. His feathers drooped, his eyes had lost their luster, and he was unusually quiet. Adam ladled out the seeds and replenished the water.

  “Too bad you’re missing the party today at the Mayor’s house,” he said. “Everyone’s going. I understand they’re serving cheese and crackers and smoked parrot.”

  Burton’s hooded eyes regarded Adam dispassionately.

  “Did you hear me?” Adam raised his voice. “I said they’re having smoked parrot on the menu. What do you think of that?” Burton said nothing. “You must be coming down with something. You got a sore throat?” Adam said.

  No response. What fun was that? “I’ll tell you how it tasted,” Adam said. He went to the door. “I’m going now. You got one more chance to talk. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Burton opened his mouth and let out a squawk of such magnitude Adam thought it could be heard down on the street. The squawk became a laugh and Burton laughed until Adam was in the elevator. Adam fancied he could still hear it after he’d let himself into his own apartment. He took a shower and put on his new school clothes. The red sweater was his favorite. If he wore his new red sweater, Charlie could spot him outside the fence and might wave. He was looking forward to Charlie’s going to this party as much as Charlie was, he imagined.

  And Millie. Although he’d never met Charlie’s wife Millie, he’d heard so much about her he thought he knew exactly what she looked like. She was a big woman with a warm and merry smile. She wore glasses and polka-dotted dresses. Blue polka dots. She had brown hair and smelled like chocolate chip cookies. She laughed a lot and read bits and pieces out of the newspaper to Charlie during TV commercials. That much Adam knew for a fact. Charlie had told him Millie didn’t believe in wasting a minute of the day. And while the TV program was on, Millie knitted or made quilts.

  “Millie is a beautiful person,” Charlie had told him more than once. Adam knew this must be so.

 
“Kenny called while you were gone,” his mother said. “He’ll meet you in the park. At the usual bench, he said. Steve and he have some hot tips they want to talk over with you.”

  “I’m not talking about financial matters on Sunday,” Adam told her. “Sunday is a day of rest. Those guys don’t know when to quit. Since when do we have club meetings on Sunday, anyway?”

  “You got me,” she said. “Come out to the kitchen with me so we can talk. I have a big project going. I promised Harry I’d fix osso buco for him.”

  “Is that Chinese?” Adam asked.

  “Nope, it’s veal knuckle,” she said.

  Veal knuckle? It sounded like something Mr. Early would like. Adam was so grossed out by this revelation of bizarre eating habits in his own family that he was speechless. He looked at his own knuckles. Even with a baked potato and some string beans thrown in, he knew he’d be hungry half an hour after he ate them.

  “Does Sproggy know about Charlie’s party?” his mother asked. “Maybe you should call her up and tell her so she won’t miss the fun.”

  “Sproggy knows,” he said. He hadn’t told his mother about yesterday and his rescue of Sproggy. He liked keeping it to himself awhile. It felt good to be a rescuer of anyone or anything. He had never been one before. He’d tell her sooner or later. In the meantime it was all his.

  “Charlie said he might bring his wife Millie over to the building before the party,” Adam said. “She’s never seen where he works and she’d like to. Plus he told her about the gray lobby and she wants to see for herself. I better get downstairs so I don’t miss meeting her.”

  “Have a lovely time. I’d go with you if I didn’t have this creature to subdue.” She stirred something in a pot and peered anxiously into its depths. “I simply cannot understand how Julia Child does it,” she said. “Imagine talking to that huge audience on TV and cooking at the same time. Absolutely amazing woman, she must be.”

  When his mother got into this kind of mood, Adam knew, she didn’t care whether he stuck around or not. She’d go on talking a mile a minute and stirring her veal knuckle and be perfectly happy. “So long, Mom,” he said.