City Kid

by Mary MacCracken

  More and more I was coming to believe that testing was an art, that no group IQ test should ever be given, and that somehow I was going to have to take enough courses so that I would have the training to do my own testing.

  The three-o’clock bell rang and chaos was instant. It was spring and the kids couldn’t wait to get outside and the teachers couldn’t wait to get them there.

  I stuffed my notebook back into my canvas bag and caught up with Luke as he was going down the stone steps. I should have known he’d be the first one out.

  “Hey, Luke. Wait a minute.”

  He turned, pausing only for a second.

  “Will you take this to your mom?” I took the note out of the envelope so he could see for himself. “I can’t get her on the phone so I wrote to ask her when we could meet. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll tell her.” I put the note back in the envelope and handed it to him. “See ya,” Luke called back, already on the sidewalk with Wendell Higgins close beside him, and then gone around the corner in a second. Where did they go? What did they do? How little I knew of Luke’s life.

  At ten o’clock on Friday morning I sat alone in the music room. Strange how different a room can seem at varying hours of the day. Luke and I were usually here in the early afternoon; then the room was full of sunlight and I had come to think of it as a cheerful, pleasant place. Now, as I waited for Mrs. Brauer, the sun had not yet reached these windows and the long white overhead tubes gave off a thin cold light. I shivered and took the paper from my pocket and spread it on the table. On the bottom of my note, Mrs. Brauer had written, “I will come to school Friday at ten.”

  The clock over the door clicked loudly. It had never made noise before. Impatiently I walked around the room, wondering what Luke’s mother would be like, how much she knew about the program, what she thought of it.

  Click. Click. Click. Ten-fifteen. I would wait until eleven, I decided. I had cut my nine-thirty class. No great loss, but I had to be back by eleven-thirty. We were having a quiz.

  “Mrs. MacCracken?”

  “Mrs. Brauer?” I moved quickly to the doorway and held out my hand. “Good morning. I’m glad to meet you.” How young she was. And small. Her hair was like Luke’s; short, brown, wavy, cut the same way.

  “Would you like some coffee? I can get us some from the office.”

  “No. No, thank you. I can’t stay long.” Mrs. Brauer looked back over her shoulder nervously. Was someone else with her? Or waiting?

  “May I take your coat?”

  “No, thank you.” She pulled it closer around her.

  “All right. Let’s sit down over here. I laid out some of Luke’s things.”

  We moved to the long table where Luke and I worked and I showed her some of Luke’s pictures and stories, the lesson plan book, his pages of arithmetic.

  She looked at each carefully and then put them neatly in front of me. “Is he doing good?” she asked. “Is he behaving?”

  “Oh, yes.” How could I tell her what fun he was? How I loved working with him? I searched for words that she could take home. “Luke’s smart, Mrs. Brauer. And he’s hardly sent to the office anymore.”

  She nodded and we again sat silently, until I said, “How are things going at home?”

  “Fine.”

  We were getting nowhere. This wasn’t helping Luke.

  “Mrs. Brauer,” I said as gently as I could, “I’ve read Luke’s file. I know he’s been in trouble for setting fires. In fact, I went down to the police station with him once. Do you know why he does it?”

  “No. He didn’t do it. Luke’s a good boy. He didn’t do nuthin’ wrong.” She gagged slightly and took a tissue from her pocketbook and wiped her mouth. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-two, but there were dark circles under her eyes. Still, it was clear that she had once been a very pretty woman.

  I half stood, remembering how Luke had said his mother wasn’t well. “Would you like some water?”

  Mrs. Brauer shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Fine. Luke’s a good boy.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “Helps around the house. Helps with Alice and Frank.”

  “Yes.”

  “The only thing” – the tissue turned back and forth between her fingers – “is some of those other kids in the project. I try to keep him away from them, but Luke doesn’t talk much so I don’t know …” her voice trailed off and she wiped the corners of her mouth again.

  “It must be very hard.” Hard? It must be hell. Somehow she made it seem so real. Not by what she said, just by her existence. The poverty, the sickness, the constant struggle – for what? So you can stay alive to struggle one more day?

  “Listen,” I said, silently shaking myself. Feeling sorry for her wasn’t going to do anybody any good. “Luke is doing better. But he has a way to go. He’s behind in both reading and spelling and he can’t afford any more absences, whatever the reason. It’s important that he do his homework and get to bed early. I agree he shouldn’t hang around with kids who’ll get him in trouble.”

  Mrs. Brauer smiled slightly. This was better. Tough talk was more reassuring than sweetness and light.

  She nodded her head. She looked happier for a minute, the expression around her mouth almost like Luke’s. “Maybe if you speak to him. Maybe he’ll listen.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “I have to get back,” she said.

  “All right. But I’d like to see you again soon.”

  “It’s hard to get away – so much to do.” She was fading away, going out the door, almost not there. Running silently, just like Luke, dealing with life by running away.

  “Yes. We’ll see – I’ll let you know …”

  She was out the door and down the stone steps, her small thin shoulders hunched together, both arms wrapped around her pocketbook. I watched her until she was out of sight.

  Then I walked back to the music room and closed the door. What could I do about Mrs. Brauer? Not much. Not much. All she wanted was to be left alone. And who could blame her?

  Alice and Frank. Where were they? All I knew was that they were younger than Luke. I asked in the office. The secretary checked the file. Yes, Alice Brauer in kindergarten, Frank in first. Both classes in the basement.

  I walked down the stairs slowly. I had never been in this part of the building before. There was one large, dark, damp room with tables set up in the corners. One of the teachers came toward me. “Yes?” Her voice was cold. It was apparent visitors were not welcome.

  “I’m one of the tutors from the college,” I explained. “Working with Luke Brauer. Could you point out his brother and sister?”

  “Those two at the paint table,” she said. “Don’t be long. Disturbs the children. Besides, there’s nothing to see.”

  Two blond heads bent close together. Blond hair, not brown like Luke’s and his mother’s, but wavy, cut the same. What were they doing at the same table if they were in different classes? Open classroom? Ha!

  I walked back upstairs even more slowly, fighting the urge to go get Luke. Go get him and set him free somehow. How could he survive under all that weight? The responsibilities, poverty, illness. I walked through the office without looking at the secretary and sat down opposite Mrs. Karras. She was on the phone, but I waited, needing to talk to her.

  “What happens to these kids?” I asked her as soon as she was done. “I mean when they’re twelve or twenty or thirty. Does anybody ever have a decent life? Or do they all end up like Mrs. Brauer?”

  Mrs. Karras stood up. “Not all. Most maybe, but not all. A few get out, but they don’t usually come back. Why should they?

  “You know something, my husband’s a principal here in Falls City, too. We live here. We work here. But you know where we spend our time? Down at the shore. As soon as we had enough money, we bought a house just a block from the ocean – and that’s where we go whenever we can. That’s how we survive, and in another five or six years, that’s where we’ll retire.”


  She walked over to the small window that faced the street. “Come here a minute, Mary.” She put one arm around my shoulders and pointed with the other hand. “See over there? The house with the wire fence.”

  “Yes.” I knew the house. That was where the white dog hurled himself against the fence at each passerby.

  “I was born in a house like that, just two blocks down.”

  If Mrs. Karras could get out, maybe Luke could too.

  Chapter 16

  I drove slowly through the streets surrounding the school. Where was Luke? What did he do after school each day? Where did he race with Wendell Higgins close beside him?

  There was no point in admonishing Luke to stay away from Wendell. If Luke didn’t find Wendell, Wendell found Luke. But what did they do?

  There was no one Luke’s size on the streets or sidewalks near the school, only a few adults walking slowly. Over by the project, girls were jumping rope. “Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around, Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch the ground.” One little girl ran out from under the rope, another one in. The chant continued. “Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, climb the stairs, Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, say your prayers.” Luke would not be here.

  I turned out of the narrow streets back onto the main road, down toward the park. High school kids standing or sitting around on the grass, smoking. I left the car and walked through the park, past the fountain. Conversation stopped as I neared. Obviously, I was not welcome. Luke and Wendell would not be here either.

  I went back to the car and drove through the small business district, past the movies to Dunkin’ Donuts. Kids covered Dunkin’ Donuts like flies – inside, outside, leaning on the glass window, sitting on the sidewalk in front, lounging on the cars parked in the street. These kids were all ages, but still no Luke or Wendell.

  The mountain? Would Luke have taken Wendell there? I wasn’t sure. The mountain meant a lot to Luke. Memories of his father were strong there, and yet Wendell must know about it. He was the one who had taken my message to Luke when he was hiding out.

  Should I hunt for them there? Could I even find the place? Wherever Luke was, he wouldn’t be there much longer. His mother went to work at five and she said he was good about being there to take care of his brother and sister. Maybe the best thing was to go back to the project and wait and see which direction he arrived from.

  I parked my car a block away and waited. “Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch your shoe, Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, twenty-three skiddoo.” Why didn’t they jump to a different tune? I smiled to myself. Or march to a different drummer? Who can lead anyone else’s life? Or even understand it. Prime example, me.

  There’s Luke. Wendell, too. Coming from the direction of town. But not walking now. They sat down on the curbs as I watched. Luke was dirty, face and hands black with grime or soot. From fires? As I watched, Wendell took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and passed it to Luke. Luke took a deep drag and handed it back to Wendell. Two little kids sitting on a street corner, smoking.

  “Why can’t we?” I said to Hud and Shirley. “Nobody knows what we’re doing now, anyway. When’s the last time you were supervised?”

  Shirley said, “I haven’t seen Jerry in weeks. I don’t know what’s happened, but he’s not around much. I hear you, Mary. I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t help you out. I’m having enough trouble getting down here for my regular sessions with Milt. I’m working forty hours a week now at the store, trying to get enough money to cover the first semester’s tuition at graduate school. I sure can’t take any time off to play baseball.”

  I turned to John Hudson. “How about it, Hud? You’re the one we really need. You and Vernon. What’s one afternoon a week? You can work out after we finish. Look, all we have to do is organize the teams. Get them started and then they can play by themselves. Once a week isn’t going to kill you.”

  “Jeez. I don’t know. I agree those kids need something to do besides hang out. Maybe they will play baseball. Who knows? All right. There are only a few weeks left anyway. But it has to be Thursday. That’s the only free afternoon I’ve got.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” I’d miss part of Statistics and Orientation to Psychological Testing, but that was no big loss. I’d get the notes from somebody. “How should we start? We’ve got Vernon and Luke. They’re both nuts about baseball. What about Milt, Shirley – will he play?”

  We needn’t have worried about kids. Thirty showed up the first afternoon and Hud was better than terrific with them. We divided them into two teams by lining them up and counting off by fours. Ones and threes on one team, twos and fours on the other. We named the teams the Yankees and the Red Sox.

  They were scheduled to play only on Thursdays, but by the second Thursday, it was clear they were playing on their own almost every afternoon. They had captains, they had their own team names, the Shirts and the Skins, and they had a batting order.

  Vernon was the captain of the Red Sox (alias Skins) and a big blond kid named Willie was the captain of the Yankees (alias Shirts). By now, of course, they had rearranged the teams the way they wanted them; each captain had taken turns picking players. Luke was on Vernon’s team.

  I loved to watch them play. Racing around the blacktop, stealing bases, banging the ball with all their might. Thirty kids having fun and also keeping themselves in order. On Thursdays Hud had permission to use the school’s equipment – bases, bats, balls, gloves, masks. I don’t know what they used on other days, but somehow most of the kids had got caps of some shade of red or blue, so everybody could tell who was on which team. Of course, on every day but Thursday, half the kids took off their shirts and identification was easy. On Thursdays Hud umpired; who knows who made the rules the other days?

  I was late getting to the game the third Thursday because I’d stopped to talk to Lisa. I ran down the steps and out onto the blacktop side yard. Hud shouted to me,

  “Second half of the fourth inning. Five to two, Yankees.” I walked out on the field next to him and he added in a quiet voice, “Keep an eye on Vernon, will you? He’s not the world’s best loser anyway and something’s buggin’ him today.”

  I went back to the sidelines thinking about Vernon and how far he’d come. He had even signed up for a paper route this coming summer, but some of the anger that had been behind the previous knife fights was still there.

  I was so busy thinking about Vernon that I walked straight into Officer Snow.

  “Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here? Is Luke okay?”

  Officer Snow shrugged his beefy shoulders. “How should I know? I just stopped by for the game. One of my kids is playing. Our youngest. See him up there? He’s right behind the batter.”

  The Red Sox got two runs in the last of the fourth and Officer Snow bellowed approval. “Aw right, team. Way to go. Keep ’em down now. Don’t let them Yankees score. You can tie it up next time.”

  I moved down the line away from the cheers of Officer Snow and crouched down on my heels looking for Luke. I finally spotted him in the outfield. He caught my eye but gave no sign. Nor did I.

  But Officer Snow’s shouts seemed to be having an effect, and at the middle of the fifth inning the Yankees were only one run ahead of our team.

  Vernon led off with a double and then Luke was up. He looked so little opposite Willie, the pitcher. I got up and walked back and forth, unable to sit still.

  Officer Snow was pounding the fence. “Come on, youse Brauer kid. Knock him in! Knock him in! Tie it up!”

  My mouth was dry and I whispered under my breath, “It’s okay, Luke. Whatever happens, it’s okay. Good luck.” I turned the lipstick tube inside the pocket of my jeans.

  “Ball one,” Hud yelled.

  Luke struck at the next ball and tipped it off the side. “Foul ball. Strike one. Ball one.”

  The next pitch was straight across the middle of the plate and Luke swung and connected and the ball sailed out beyond second base. Luke headed for first and Vernon was already halfway
to third.

  One of the Yankees pegged the ball back to Willie and he hesitated for one second as Vernon touched third and started home before he threw to first and Hud called Luke out. Willie threw to home and Vernon retreated and made it back, just in time, to third.

  Inwardly, I raged at Hud. How could he do that to Luke! It was so close, how could he tell for sure. Poor Luke.

  Poor Luke, nothing. Luke was out in the middle of the field, hat in hand, yelling at Hud. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but then I couldn’t believe what I was seeing either. Luke wasn’t running away. He was standing up there, yelling, protesting, telling it his way.

  If I couldn’t hear Luke, I could hear Officer Snow loud and clear. “Thataway, kid. You tell him. That ump’s blind as a bat.”

  Luke was sure telling him, his cap on the ground now, hands on his hips, words pouring out.

  Suddenly Vernon raced out from third and swung at Hud. Hud hammerlocked Vernon and yelled out loud and clear.

  “You guys have ten seconds to quiet down or this game’s over. Luke, you’re out, get off the field. Vernon, you’re safe, get back on third. The score is four to five with one man out. Now let’s play ball.”

  Nobody moved, and then Luke picked up his cap, swatted it against his rear, retrieved his bat from the sidelines, and went to wait with the rest of the Red Sox. Vernon grumbled something but went on back to third.

  Luke had won. He’d made his protest, he’d used words, and even though he hadn’t changed Hud’s mind, Hud had listened to him and Luke had abided by the rules. He hadn’t run away, and no matter how the score came out, Luke was a winner.

  Above the hubbub of the game, Officer Snow resumed his cheering. “Never mind, kid. You’ll get on next time. That ump should have his eyes examined.”

  I moved back down by Officer Snow and shouted with him.

  “All right now, Red Sox. Let’s tie ’er up.”