“Well why don’tchuh do like I said — ast her to buy a pair of skates and den sell ’em to ye on trust, or sumpt’n.”
“Maybe I’ll ask her nex’ time.”
“Sure. Go dere every day till she gizem tuh yuh, dat’s de trick.”
“I don’ like id.”
“Wot, astin’ her?”
“No. Her kids. Dey ain’ her real kids.”
“Step-kids yuh mean.”
“Yea.”
“Wotsa matter wid ’em? Snotty or sumpt’n? W’yncha gib’m a poke innie eye?”
“Dere bigger’n me. An’ dey holler on yuh an’ ev’yt’ing.”
“Yuh ain’ scared of ’em are yuh? Don’ let ’em bulldoze yuh!”
“I ain’ so scared, but dere doity an’ wants yuh tuh go donn in de cella’ wit’ ’em an’ ev’yt’ing.”
“Cellar?” Leo grew interested. “W’yntcha say dey wuz goils.”
“Yea, I don’ like ’em.”
“D’ja go down?” Grinning avidly he bent forward.
“Yea.”
“Yuh did? Wadja do — no shittin’ now!”
“Do?” David was becoming troubled. “Nutt’n.”
“Nutt’n!” Leo gasped incredulously.
“No. She ast me to stay inna terlit an’ she peed.”
“Yuh didn’ do nutt’n an’ dey ast yer to come down de cella’ wid ’em?”
“On’y one of ’em ast me.” Confusedly he fought off Leo’s insistence.
“Oh!” he crowed, “Wot a sap!”
“’Cause, she said she’d gib me anyt’ing.”
“Wee, an’ yuh didn’ ast ’er?”
“I wanned skates — a old pair,” he beat a lame retreat. “I t’ought maybe she had.”
“Oh, boy, wot a goof! Yuh said yuh wuz ten yea’s old. Oh, boy! She letcha see it?”
“W’a?” He refused even to himself that he guessed.
“Aw! don’ make believe yuh didn’ know—” his legs spread. “De crack!”
“Dey wuz fight’n in bed,” he confessed reluctantly, and then stopped, wishing he had never begun.
“Well, wot about it?” Leo exacted the last scruple.
“Nutt’n. Dey wuz just kickin’ wit — wit deir legs, and so — so I seen it.”
“Chee!” Leo sighed, “No drawz?”
“No.”
“How big ’re dey?”
“Bigger’n me — about so moch.”
“Bigger’n me?”
“No.”
“Jist me size — oh boy! Wa’ wuz ye scared of, yuh sap! Dey ain’t yuh real cousins. Oh boy, if me an’ Patsy was dere — oh boy! Wish he wuzn’ in de camp. Oncet we took Lily Aglorini up me house on elevent’, an’ we makes believe we wus takin’ de exercise up de playgroun’ in St. Joseph’s — bendin’, yuh know? An’ we bends ’er over a chair an’ takes ’er drawz down — oh boy! Hey! Le’s go dere, you’n’ me — waddaye say? I like Jew-goils!”
“Yuh mean yuh wanna do — yuh wanna play—” David shrank back.
“Sure, c’mon, le’s bot’ go now!”
“Naa!” His cry was startled, “I don’ wanna!”
“Watsa madder — ain’t dey dere now?”
“N-no. But I–I have to go home righd away.” He had slid off his chair. “Id’s dinner time.”
“Well, after den — after yuh eat!”
“I have tuh go t’ cheder after.”
“Wot’s dat?”
“W’ea yuh loin Hebrew — from a rabbi.”
“Cantcha duck it?”
“He’ll comm to my house.”
“C’mon anyways, ’fore yuh go t’dat place.”
Again that warping globe of unreality sphered his senses. Again the world sagged, shifted, Leo with it — a stranger. Why did he trust anything, anyone? “I don’ wanna,” he finally muttered.
“Waa! I fought yuh wuz me pal!” Leo sneered in ugly disgust. “Is zat de kind of a guy y’are?”
David stared sullenly at the floor.
“I’ll tell yuh wot,” the voice was eager again. “Yuh wanna loin t’ skate, dontcha! Dontcha?”
“Y-Yea.”
“Well, I’ll loin yuh — right away too. I’ll lenja mine w’en we goes over dere — one skate apiece.”
“Naa! I’m goin’ down.”
“Aw, yuh sheen — C’mon I’ll give yuh some o’ me checkers — got a whole bunch o’ crownies. Look, you don’ have t’ do nutt’n if yuh don’ wanna. Us’ll go togedder, but you kin stay outside. I ain’ gonna do nutt’n — jes’ give ’em a feel.”
“I don’ wanna.” David was at the door.
“Yuh stingy kike! Yuh wan’ it all yerself, dontchuh? Well, don’t hang aroun’ me no maw, ’er I’ll bust ye one! Hey!” As David opened the door. “Wait a secon’!” He grabbed his arm. “C’mon back!” He dragged David in. “C’mon! I’ll tell yuh wot I’ll give yuh—”
“I don’ wan’ nutt’n!”
“Jis’ wait! Jis’ wait!” Still calling to David, he dragged a chair across the kitchen to a dish-closet above the pantry, climbed up on the pantry ledge, and reaching over his head, drew down a dusty wooden box, which he dropped on the table as he climbed down. In shape it resembled the chalk boxes in school and even had the same kind of sliding cover. But it couldn’t be a chalk box, for David had just enough time to glimpse the word God printed in bold, black letters — though curiously enough the letters were printed right above a large, black fish. But before he could bend closer to spell out the smaller letters under the fish, Leo, with a “Hea’s wotchuh wanted,” had whipped the cover off. Inside lay a jumble of trinkets, rings, lockets, cameos. Leo fumbled among them. “Yea, yuh see dis?” He pulled out a broken string of two-sized black beads near one end of which a tiny cross dangled with a gold figure raised upon it like the one on the wall. “Dat’s de busted rosary me ol’ lady foun’, dere’s on’y a coupla beads missin’. I’ll give it tuh yuh. Come on it’s real holy.”
David stared at it fascinated, “C’n I touch id?”
“Sure yuh c’n, go on.”
“Does id do like de one around’ yer neck?”
“Course it does! An’ it’s way, way holier.”
“An’ yuh’ll gib me id?”
“Sure I will — fer keeps! If you take me over witchuh t’morrer it’s all yourn. Waddaye say, is it a go?”
Head swimming, he stared at the definite, unwinking beads. “It’s a-a go.” He wavered.
“Atta baby!” Leo whirled the beads enthusiastically. “Look! you don’ have t’do nutt’n’—jis’ lay putso like I tol’ yuh. Dey ain’ yer real cousins — wadda you care — oh boy! W’eadja say yuh took ’er?”
“I didn’ take her — she took me.” Now that he had consented dread gripped him in earnest.
“S’all de same — w’ea?”
“In de cella’—huh cella’—unner de staw w’ea dere’s a terlit.”
“We’ll take ’er dere too huh?”
“Butchuh have t’go troo de staw.”
“W’a? Cantchuh sneak in troo de outside?”
“De staw?”
“No de cella’.”
“I don’ know.”
“Sure ye c’n! Door’s open I bet— Wot time we goin?”
“W’ad time yuh wan’?”
“In de mawnin — oily — ten o’clock. How’s zat? I’ll meetcha front o’ yer stoop wit’ me skates. Awright?”
“Awri’,” he consented dully. “I’m goin’ donn now.”
“Wot’s yer hurry?”
“I have tuh. I have tuh go home.”
“Well, so long den! An’ don’ fergit — ten o’clock.”
“No — ten o’clock.”
He went out, the door closing on Leo’s final chuckle. And he groped toward the dim stairs and descended. Hope and fear and confusion had drained him of thought. His mind was numb and suspended now, as though he were drowsy with cold. Without word, without image, he sensed again the past and the future converging on the morrow. And either he found a solvent for his fears or he was lost. He walked into the dreary rain as into an omen.…