Chapter ONE
THE BEGINNING
Ol’ Brian was a salty old soul. He stood over six feet and his better years were behind him. Ol’ Brian was a firefighter for thirty-two years until he fell down cellar stairs and the department retired him. He had a balding head and large, coarse hands, what some people might call working man’s hands. At sixty-four years old he did not care much for fashion, as evidenced in his dungarees and tee shirt. He cared about people and loved talking about the good old days. Most of all, he loved telling his stories to the kids.
It was a warm Sunday morning in May and Ol’ Brian was volunteering in the cafeteria at the South Shore Little League. Some kids asked him for a story. The ball field was packed with players and parents but he did not deny them. He sat at a picnic table next to field number three and told his story.
“It was a freezing night and we were all wondering if we were going to get something good, see? At about three in the morning the alarm went off and we started to count the bells,” Ol’ Brian said excitedly. He was very animated with his hands and expressions. He knocked on an imaginary bell.
“There were no computers back then and the dispatcher turned us out with bells.... Ding, ding, ding...ding, ding...ding, ding...ding, ding, ding, ding. The Housewatchman counts the bells so we know where we’re going. Each set of bells is a different location in our area. Well, we get all hyped up. We all jump into our boots and grab our coats and jump on the rig. The chauffeur—that’s what we call the driver—barrels down the avenue just as fast as he can. The siren is screaming and the horn blasting, and we get down there and we see black smoke rising to the heavens and we know we got a good job.
“The engine was pulling hose and the chief was already there, screaming orders into the mic. Me and the captain get the order to search the basement. In the meantime more guys are coming and ladders are going up on every side. The hose looks like spaghetti in the street.”
The kids laugh at his antics and listen to every word. Ol’ Brian tells his story as if it happened yesterday. “The water is freezing as it runs off the building. Guys are all over this building and more trucks are screaming down the street. Me and the captain run through the front door, which was already smashed open by this big guy with an axe, and the smoke poured out. Black and acrid; it made your lungs burn.” Ol’ Brian grabbed his chest and breathed hard. “We hit the floor and crawled on our bellies.”
“Why were you crawling on your bellies?” asked Alyah Williams. Alyah was a slender girl with mocha skin. She wore her hair in a loose afro and her steel-grey eyes matched well with her rosebud lips.
“If you keep low you can still breathe and see better than if you were standing. Besides, it’s a lot hotter if you stand. Remember, hot air rises. We find the door to the basement and we crawl down feet first till we get to the bottom. Then me and the captain split up...he goes right and I go left.”
“The captain and I,” interrupted Emily Holly.
“What?” Ol’ Brian asked and seemed perturbed at being interrupted again.
“The captain and I,” explained Emily. “You never say ’me and a person.’ We learned that in English. It’s bad grammar.”
“Fine,” Ol’ Brian said, rolling his eyes. “The captain and I.” He looked at Emily, who smiled, and he continued. “We found the stairs and we crawled down feet first. This was a preschool and the fire was at three in the morning night so I was afraid there would be a custodian down there. We found the fire in a rear room. It was used as a supply room for the whole school. By this time the fire was through the first floor and making its way up through the roof. The guys told me later you could see the fire from miles around.”
“What happened next?” Johnny Hall asked between bites of his hot dog.
“We started to crawl around with our tools in front of us, see,” Ol’ Brian said and waved his arms with his eyes closed. The two girls moved out of the way to avoid getting hit by his big hands. “We went from room to room searching for people and hoping not to find anyone. My captain called for a line. Engine 62 pulled their line down and opened up. The water came back at us, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, hot and steamy. Then my captain said into his mic, ’Ladder 7-5 to the 2-3 K.’”
“The chief said back, ’2-3 K.’ And my captain said to him, ’6-2 is knocking down the fire, and the basement primary search is clear, K.’ K, that’s what we say when we’re done talking on the mic. The chief tells us to come back upstairs, so we go up to the first floor and the whole place is full of firemen putting the rest of the fire out and tearing out walls. Me and the captain...er, the captain and I...went outside for a blow. That means rest.”
“Wright! You’re on deck,” Coach Blake called to Nicky from the other side of the dugout.
“Coming,” Nicky replied and then turned to Ol’ Brian. “Gotta go.”
“Knock it out of the park, Nick,” Ol’ Brian yelled. It was not that Nicky was a good baseball player. To the contrary, Nicky was an average player. But Ol’ Brian always had encouraging words for the kids. After a fast thank you and goodbye, the other kids followed to watch Nicky’s turn at bat. They herded into the bleachers along the first base line.
“You want to play ball or listen to an old burnout tell stories?” Coach Blake asked Nicky. Coach Blake was about forty years old with rough skin from the sun. When he was not coaching he was a landscaper by trade. He wore his baseball cap backwards and always hid his eyes behind sunglasses.
“Play ball, Coach,” Nicky answered.
“Then get your head into the game,” Coach Blake said.
Nicky was a slim twelve-year-old with a small amount of freckles on the bridge of his nose that stood out against his pale complexion. His dark brown hair was worn short under his cap. He wore his cap down low, mostly because he thought it looked cool. He had his mother’s eyes but the rest of him was his father.
Nicky was on the Johnson Raiders, a team in the South Shore Little League in Staten Island. They were playing the Wildcats and the pitcher was Big Tony, a member of his class at school. Nicky warmed up with some practice swings and watched the game. It was the bottom of the sixth and final inning, and the Raider were trailing 4-3. Two outs, nobody on. Ray Wolf was up with a two-and-one count. Nicky quickly scanned the bleachers.
The usual parents were there watching their children play, including Nicky’s mother, Suzanne. She stood only five-foot-four, but she walked with confidence. Her hair, which she always kept tied in a ponytail at home, was blond with red highlights. Today she left it free-flowing down her shoulders. She always dressed with style, although she did not spend a lot of money on clothes. Older men would describe her as attractive with her fair complexion and hazel eyes. To Nicky’s father she was beautiful. Right below her sat Margie, her real name is Margolin, with her phone in one hand and hair brush in the other. Margie was thin with ash brown hair that hung to her shoulders. She was attractive with fair skin and dimples. Nicky knew she was not rooting for him. Although they were all in the same class, she was there for Big Tony.
Nicky looked for his father but to no avail. This did not bother Nicky too much since his father never came to see him play. He was always working. Nicky was two years old before he realized his father lived with them. He was grateful for his mom. She was always there, rooting for him and taking videos on her phone. She would send them to his father, who would always text Nicky about them later. Still, there was that aching feeling deep in his heart that wished his father would show up just once.
Nicky’s attention was brought back to the game with a loud crack of the bat. Ray hit a line drive over the shortstop’s head for a triple. The bleachers went wild. Nicky approached home plate and Double D handed him his lucky bat—the black one with the red stripe that Nicky used last inning to get a base hit. Double D was acting as a junior coach. His real name was David DeLuca but the kids called him Double D. He thought that was cool. He was shorter than most of his friends and had a strawberry mark on the left side of his neck. He had a dark complexion and perfect teeth. He wore his hair loose and his bangs dangled just above his green eyes. Double D not athletically inclined so to keep him included, Coach Blake made him a junior coach.
“It’s two outs and three-two theirs. Ray’s on third. All we need is for you to get on base to tie this up,” he said into Nicky’s ear. Nicky nodded and surveyed the field. The left outfielder moved in.
“Batter up,” yelled the umpire. Nicky noticed the left fielder moving even closer. Nicky stepped into the batter’s box and readied his stance. The umpire put on his face mask and the catcher bent down low. Nicky saw it all in his mind. He would swing on the first good pitch and knock it over the left fielder’s head. He had come in too far and Nicky would love to teach him a lesson. Nicky would be the hero of the day and have something good to talk to his dad about.
“Get a double, Nicky,” his mother yelled behind her phone.
Nicky took his batter’s stance and watched Big Tony wind up. The pitch was perfect and Nicky swung with all his might.
“Strike one,” the umpire yelled. Nicky could not believe he’d missed that one. Big Tony smiled as the catcher threw the ball back. He was the class bully because he was big boned and taller than most kids their age. Big Tony wore his hair high and tight and swaggered rather than walked. Nicky thought him and Margie were a good match.
Big Tony held up one finger. Nicky really hated him at that moment.
“Strike him out, Tony,” Margie yelled with her phone held high. “No batter.”
“C’mon, Nick, just hit it,” Ray yelled from third base. Ray was tall and lanky. He was the fastest on the team and he was taking a big lead off third base.
“Wait for your pitch,” his mother yelled.
“Shake that one off, Nick. No pressure,” Double D said encouragingly. “No pressure.”
No pressure? That’s easy for him to say. Nicky was a little nervous now. He readied his stance again. He quickly took an inventory: his stance was straight; his feet were planted shoulder width apart. Everything seemed fine. He watched Big Tony wind up again and let it fly...a fastball down the middle. Nicky could see that connecting with this one would send it flying over the fence.
“Uughh!”
“Strike two.”
“That’s the way, Tony. Strike the bum out,” Margie screamed. “This is so going on YouTube.”
“Nicky, stop trying so hard. Just hit it,” Johnny Hall said. Johnny was baby faced with close set eyes and high cheekbones. He was always eating. People would wonder how he stayed so thin. He was next to Margie and showed her his mouth full of hot dog. Margie cringed.
“Time out,” Double D yelled and walked to Nicky, who was now breathing hard and shaking. “Calm down.”
“I’m calm,” Nicky answered.
“Yeah, I could tell that by the way you’re sweating. This is no big deal. Just put your bat in front of it.”
“I got this,” Nicky reassured him.
“Good.”
Double D walked off the field and the game resumed. Nicky took his stance. He saw Ray take a lead off third base. Big Tony stood on the pitcher’s mound looking cocky. Nicky wanted nothing more than to hit the ball right back at him. Big Tony wound up and let it go. Nicky saw it was another fastball and he swung with all his might again. The pitch came in low and he connected for a grounder down the third base line. Nicky ran with fury but did not get halfway when his feet tangled. Nicky lost his footing and time stopped. He saw himself falling forward in slow motion with his arms flailing about. He wiped out head first into the dirt. Time started again as he lay there. The bleachers went wild. The third baseman took his time and threw the ball to first, ending the game.
“Way to go, Nick!” Margie yelled. “You’re my hero. That’s the way to lose a game.”
Nicky’s heart sank because he knew what everyone was thinking...he had lost the game for them. He picked himself up and dusted off his uniform. He dragged himself to the infield and lined up with his team. They congratulated the other team with high-fives. Big Tony grabbed Nicky’s hand and asked, “What did you think you were gonna do? Hit a home run? You can’t beat me.” Nicky ripped his hand away. He could not think of a good response so he just glowered at him.
Back in the dugout Coach Blake sat everyone down. Nicky could not wait to get out of there. “Okay, men, that was a good game,” Coach Blake said. “We didn’t win but we didn’t lose either.”
“Yeah we did, 4-3. Weren’t you keeping score?” Ray asked.
“What game were you watching, Coach?” asked Double D.
“Do you think that score means something?” Coach Blake asked. He was excited and walking back and forth in the dugout. His hands were flying all over as he talked and he stopped in front of each player and gave them hope. He took off his sunglasses and looked at them right in the eye. “It doesn’t mean anything. Before the game I heard some of those guys say they were gonna shut you out. As if you were a bunch of kindergarteners playing for the first time. They just won that game but you won a lot more. You won their respect. Bobby, remember to use the cut-off man. You can’t reach home from right field. John, when the count is three-and-oh, wait for the fourth ball. Don’t just swing at anything. Chances are you’ll walk. Nicky, stop trying to hit it over the fence. Work on getting a base hit. Small things make all the difference, guys. If we work a little harder on these items, I’m sure we can beat them next time.
“Next practice is Tuesday at four. I’m proud of you guys. You played a good game. Now go—your parents are waiting for you.” All the boys left the dugout. Nicky’s mom was waiting for him.
“Good game, honey,” Suzanne said. “How about a hot dog?”
“And a Yoo-hoo?”
“Yoo-hoo it is,” she answered.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Coach said he was proud of us even though we lost.”
“That’s nice,” Suzanne responded.
“Mom?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think Dad is proud of me?”
“Of course he is, honey. He loves you. Don’t you ever think for one minute he’s not proud of you,” Suzanne said. Nicky thought she was trying too hard to be convincing.
“Did you tell him I had a game today?”
“I told him, but he had to work. Don’t you think he would be here if he could?”
“I guess,” was all Nicky could answer. “Don’t send that video to Dad. Okay.”
“Okay, honey, I won’t. Now let’s get that hot dog,” his mother said in an uplifting manner.
The next day was Monday, and Nicky, Double D, and Karen walked together to school. Karen was petite in size with red curly hair and delicate features. Her hazel eyes were complimented by her soft smile. She always dressed smart. Double D, in contrast to Karen, was a slob. His clothes were never ironed although they were clean. His hair was never combed.
In front of P.S. 54 was a tall fire hydrant. As a crowd of kids walked into school, in his much hyped bravado, Big Tony jumped over the hydrant as all the kids watched. He put his arms up in triumph, as if waiting for applause. There was a secret competition going around the school concerning the fire hydrants. There was even a collection of videos online of all the kids who jumped fire hydrants. Some of them got hurt badly. The taller the hydrant you could jump over, the cooler you were. This hydrant was one of the tallest in the neighborhood. Many of the kids had tried and failed to jump it.
Big Tony called to Nicky, “Hey, Nick, maybe you could jump this, huh? I mean, everyone knows you can’t hit a ball to save your life.” Some kids laughed. “Heck, you can’t even get out of your own way.” More laughter.
“Don’t listen to him,” Karen said to Nicky. “Look how tall that hydrant is.”
Nicky did not listen to her. He was mad about being thrown out at first, and he wanted some way to redeem himself. He dropped his books and ran for the hydrant.
“What an idiot,” he heard Karen say, and he jumped with all his might. He hit the top bonnet with his waist, his hands slipped off the top nut, and his body fell to the right. He did not even get one leg over. Some kids laughed again and some gasped. Karen and Double D ran over to him.
“Splat!” Margie said, rubbing her palms together. “You’re such a loser,” she said with a smirk, and she and Big Tony walked into the school. “That’s another one for YouTube!”
“Are you all right?” Karen asked.
Nicky sat on the pavement and took an inventory of his body. Everything moved all right and the only thing that was hurt was his pride. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just once I’d like to do something great. That would wipe that smirk off his face,” Nicky responded. “That Margie too.”
“I know what you mean,” Karen answered and handed him his books.
“Maybe that’s your problem,” Double D explained. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”
“Maybe,” Nicky said. “Let’s get in before we’re late.”
“Yeah, my dad is probably already there,” Double D said.
“Why is your dad here?” asked Karen.
“That career thing Highball had us do. My dad’s first today,” Double D explained.
“Well, I hope he doesn’t bore us,” Nicky said as he stretched his legs.
“Me too,” Double D answered. “Speaking of boring, when’s your dad coming in?”
“I didn’t tell him about it yet,” Nicky answered.
’What are you waiting for?” asked Karen.
“I don’t know,” Nicky said.
Nicky, Karen, and Double D were the last to walk into Mr. Highballer’s fifth grade class. A policeman in uniform sat on the far side of Mr. Highballer’s desk, closest to the window. Double D gave his father a slight smile and a short wave. All eyes were on the three as they sat down. Margie (her real name was Margolin) was pretending to look at herself in a small mirror she always carried around, but Nicky could see the sly way her eyes followed him. She always wore the latest fashions, and her handbag was always the most expensive of all the girls. She would always turn her head so her hair would flow like a model’s.
Big Tony was sitting like he was the king of the classroom, as if no one mattered but him. Johnny Hall was eating Oreo cookies. Last year they used to call him Johnny String Bean. Johnny turned toward Margie and opened his mouth, showing her his black teeth and tongue. She turned away, sickened once again.
Their teacher, Mr. Highballer, stood five feet, seven inches tall. He was shaped like a pear, which is to say the largest part of him was his stomach. He wore black-rimmed glasses that seemed too big for his round face, and they were always sliding down the bridge of his nose. He wore a belt that always matched his shoes. He also wore black suspenders to keep his pants up. Nicky wondered why he wore a belt at all.
Mr. Highballer was sitting at his desk waiting for them. Nicky walked to his desk and sat down. He noticed someone had written the word Loser on his desk with a black magic marker. He glanced Margie’s way and saw she was smiling.
“Are you all right, Nick?” Mr. Highballer asked while pushing up his glasses. Mr. Highballer spoke slowly and pronounced every word correctly, as if he was being judged on his English. He never raised his voice. All attention turned toward Nicky.
“Yeah, why?”
“I hear you had a small accident. Is that right?”
“No, I just slipped, that’s all,” Nicky answered, not to make a big deal about the whole thing.
“Do you want to go see the nurse?” Mr. Highballer asked.
“Yeah, go to the nurse so she can kiss your boo-boo,” Big Tony whispered so only Nicky and a few classmates heard. They snickered.
“Quiet,” Mr. Highballer ordered. “Nick?”
“I’m fine.”
“I also heard you had a bad time on the diamond.”
Nicky could not believe the news of his failures had traveled so fast. He did not reply but only shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t let it get you down. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Mr. Highballer’s adage did not relieve the sick feeling Nicky had in his stomach.
“Well, moving along, we have our first speaker today, Captain John De Luca of the Corrections Department,” Mr. Highballer said to the class. He then turned around to write on the board. “If one spitball hits me or the board, I’ll bury everyone with homework this weekend.”
Jerry Quist put the straw back into his desk.
Across the board Mr. Highballer wrote “CAREER DAY.” He announced, “Does anyone have any questions before we start?”
Emily Holley raised her hand. Emily was a shy girl with pouting lips and green-grey eyes. Her thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
“Yes, Emily?”
“I don’t have a career, Mr. Highballer. I don’t even have a part-time job.”
“He’s not talking about your career, you fruitcake,” Margie spoke out of turn. “You still don’t get it?”
“Margolin raise your hand if you want to speak,” Mr. Highballer ordered, but his words fell on deaf ears.
“He means your parents’ career,” Margie said. “You’re supposed to write what your parents do for a living. Like my father is a lawyer and he makes a lot of money.”
“Oh,” is all Emily replied.
“See me after class, Margolin,” Mr. Highballer instructed. Mr. Highballer walked across the front of the room and explained. “In this economic world we live in, it’s very hard to choose a career path at your age. You don’t know what options are available to you or how many different jobs or careers are out there to choose from.” Karen raised her hand. “Yes, Karen?”
“Mr. Highballer, what’s the difference between a job and a career?”
“That is a matter of opinion,” Mr. Highballer answered and gave his opinion. “A career is a chosen profession or occupation where there is general progression. A job is an activity performed regularly for payment. Some would say a career is white-collar like businessmen and a job is a person who works at a cemetery or a waiter. This would be considered blue-collar. What does your dad do?”
“My dad has a career. He’s a san-man,” Karen says proudly.
“What’s a sandman?” asked Big Tony.
Karen turned around and gave him a look that would kill the devil. “Not s-a-n-d,” Karen shot back. “S-a-n. It’s short for sanitation. My dad’s a sanitation engineer.”
“Oh,” Big Tony said smartly. “Your dad is a garbage man.”
Karen’s face contorted like a knife was going through her, and she defended her father’s career choice. “No. He’s a sanitation engineer!”
Suddenly Margie decided to get into the conversation, and before Mr. Highballer could tell her to be quiet, she blurted out, “Your father picks up garbage. He walks behind a filthy, smelly garbage truck all day and picks up garbage. He takes away what I throw out.” She put her fingers into an L shape and slapped it against her forehead. “Loser!”
“Miss Degennaro, be quiet!”
“My father has a career. He’s a lawyer for the city and he knows all the important people and he makes lots of money.”
“If she says that again I’m gonna throw a book at her,” Emily Holly whispered to Alyah Williams.
“That’s enough out of you Miss Degennaro,” Mr. Highballer snapped making his glasses slide down his nose. “Take your books and go to the office and sit there until the bell rings.” Mr. Highballer pushed his glasses up and wrote out a slip. He handed it to Margie as she walked out the door, but not before she gave Karen a dirty look.
“My dad’s a sanitation engineer,” she whispered to herself and anyone around her who could hear. “He knows important people too.”
In the back row, Double D leaned over to Nicky and whispered, “Raise your hand and tell everyone what your father does.”
Until this moment, Nicky was half listening to the conversations in the classroom. His thoughts were on the diamond and how he lost the game. He thought about all the other times he lost the game, and they were mounting up in his brain. Double D poked him in the side. “Hey, wake up. Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you gonna tell them what your dad does?”
“No,” Nicky returned.
“Dude, why not? He’s a fireman, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, don’t you want to be a fireman when you grow up? Just like him?”
“No,” Nicky said as if it were a stupid question. “I’m gonna be something good. Did you see what just happened?” Nicky explained, “Sanitation engineer to garbage man! Garbage man...fireman. Get it? I’m gonna have a job, or career, better than my dad’s.”
Their whispering caught Mr. Highballer’s attention and he called out, “Okay, everyone, quiet now and let’s get started. Everyone put away your phones. David, please come up to the front of the room and introduce your father.”
Double D took his report from his desk and modestly walked up to the front of the room. His father stood up and met him. He was a tall man with piercing eyes. He wore a blue police uniform with captains’ bars on his shoulders and stripes on his arms. Double D read from his report.
“This is my dad, Captain John De Luca. He is a corrections officer in the jails. His job is to keep all the criminals in line while they are under his care. Corrections officers are responsible to enforce the rules and keep order inside the jails. They supervise the activities of the criminals...”
“Inmates,” Captain De Luca corrected him. “We do not call them criminals, David. We call them inmates.”
“Yeah right, inmates,” Double D responded. “Anyway, my dad keeps the bad guys behind bars so we can all sleep good at night.”He looked at Mr. Highballer. “Okay?”
Mr. Highballer did not look pleased. “Captain, I’m sure you can give the class a little more detail about your day-to-day activities. Please do for the class,” Mr. Highballer urged. The captain stood front and center.
“My name is Captain John De Luca, and as you all probably know by now, I’m David’s father. He came to work with me last Friday and I gave him a tour of the jail. Just to elaborate on his report a little more, corrections officers are responsible for the well-being of everyone in the prison, not just the inmates. We are responsible for the safety of the other officers and all the civilians who work in the facility. We supervise the activities of the inmates and aid in the rehabilitation and counseling of some offenders. We maintain security by preventing fights between inmates and disturbances between gangs inside the prison, and we stop assaults or escapes. Sometimes we restrain inmates in handcuffs and leg irons to escort them to other cells or other areas of the prison to see visitors. We also escort prisoners to other jails, courtrooms, or medical facilities. Any questions thus far?”
“Is it dangerous?” asked Alyah.
“Do you carry a gun?” asked Jay.
“Yes and no to both those questions in that order. It’s a dangerous job sometimes when we have to discipline the inmates, and no, we do not carry our guns in the facility.”
“Why not?” asked Karen. “Don’t you need them?”
“What if an inmate overpowered a guard and took his gun? He could start shooting anyone at any time,” Captain De Luca explained. Double D stood close to his father. He wore a sense of pride about him. This irritated Nicky.
“Are they scary?” asked Alyah.
“Who?” asked Double D.
“The people your dad watches,” she explained.
“I’m glad you asked that, young lady,” answered Captain De Luca. “David asked me to not be preachy and to try to make this presentation fun, so I brought a surprise. I brought one of my inmates for you to see. You could ask him questions, although I’m not sure you will like his answers. He agreed to be civil and on his best behavior as a condition of his furlough.”
Captain De Luca opened the door to the classroom and in walked the biggest brute Nicky had ever seen. He had to duck to avoid hitting his bald head on the doorway. He had deep-set eyes and his nose yielded to the right. Nicky could feel the floor shake with every step the giant took. Two armed guards accompanied him. He wore an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, which looked too small for his fat wrists. Everyone in the class seemed to look for a way out. Mumblings were heard.
“Calm down. He won’t hurt anyone,” assured Captain De Luca.
“Says you,” Jason said as he stepped to the back of the room. A few others followed him.
“This is Mr. Jermaine Bittman. Everyone calls him Bitty,” Captain De Luca explained. Bitty’s neck was covered with tattoos. Nicky could only imagine what the jumpsuit concealed; gang markings perhaps? He was not getting any closer to the giant. Double D even backed up to the blackboard. Some of the kids took pictures with their phones.
“Anyone want to ask Bitty a question?” asked Captain De Luca.
“What are you in for?” Big Tony called out.
“Assault,” Bitty answered in a hoarse voice.
“How long are you in for?” asked Joe.
“Five to ten,” Bitty replied.
“Is it scary in prison?” Karen asked.
“Not for me,” Bitty replied and attempted a smile. His smile seemed to make Karen uneasy.
“Bitty, tell the kids why you were in solitary confinement for two weeks,” Captain De Luca instructed.
“Cupcakes,” Bitty answered.
Cupcakes? The class did not understand.
Captain De Luca elaborated. “Another inmate wanted Bitty’s cupcake at lunch one day. Bitty told him he couldn’t have it but the inmate took it anyway. Bitty pounced on him and put him in the hospital. It took five guards to pull him off. The fight almost caused a riot in the cafeteria.”
“You put someone in the hospital over a cupcake?” asked a repulsed Alyah.
“Yeah,” Bitty replied.
“What would you do if someone stole your money?” asked John.
“A lot more,” he responded almost inaudibly. His lips hardly moved when he spoke.
“But it was only a cupcake,” Alyah tried to explain.
“No, it wasn’t just a cupcake. It was my cupcake and he had no right to take it,” Bitty explained. He walked between the aisles toward Alyah. One guard put his hand on his weapon. “I had to teach him a lesson. If I let anyone get over, I would lose my cred. No one would fear me, and that’s what keeps me alive—the fact that the other guys...fear me.”
Bitty scanned the class and stopped at Big Tony. “He looked a lot like you,” Bitty said and pointed his finger. All eyes went to Big Tony, who was surprised and shook in his seat. Bitty walked closer and towered over the boy. The two guards walked close behind him.
“Careful,” said Captain DeLuca in a low tone.
“It wasn’t me,” a trembling Big Tony assured the giant.
“Maybe,” Bitty said and he looked him over. “You got the look, T-shirt, black boots. You some sort of big shot? You a tough guy?” Bitty asked, almost challenging. Big Tony did not move from his seat but stayed there shaking. Everyone in the class was silent.
“N-n-n-no. I’m no tough guy,” Big Tony said without hesitation.
“Good, because I will smash you,” Bitty said and turned his attention toward the whole class. “If any of you come into my cell block, I will smash you.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Captain De Luca and opened the door. He motioned to someone in the hall and two more guards walked in and the four of them escorted Bitty out. Bitty stopped and looked at Double D, who still had his back against the board. Double D strained his neck to look up.
“I owe your father for getting me out for a while. If anybody gives you a hard time, like that guy, you let me know. When I get out I’ll take care of him for you,” Bitty growled and turned to give Big Tony the evil eye. Big Tony did not return the stare, but only looked down.
“Thanks,” Double D said and everyone watched the officers escort Bitty out of the classroom. Bitty was heard asking the guards as the door closed, “Did I do good? Can I get my ice cream now?”
“Didn’t you tell him he had to be nice?” Double D asked his father.
“That was nice...for Bitty. I also told him to scare you guys a little. So, you remember,” Captain DeLuca said. “I hope everyone enjoyed my presentation, and meeting Bitty of course, but before I go—I have to get Bitty his ice cream—can anyone tell me what they learned? Yes?” asked Captain De Luca.
“Don’t steal cupcakes,” replied Alyah.
“Besides that. Yes?”
“Stay out of trouble,” said Joey.
“That’s right. The Corrections Department is the most important job in the city. We keep the criminals behind bars so you can sleep safely. Believe me, you don’t want to be on the inside looking out.”
“I thought the police were the most important,” said Joey.
“They are important,” answered Captain De Luca. “After the police find them, their work is done. We have them for years, sometimes for life. Does anyone want to be a corrections officer?” No one raised their hand. “Okay then, goodbye and good luck to you all,” Captain De Luca said.
Mr. Highballer clapped. “Everyone, let’s give Captain De Luca a round of applause and thank him for the informative, if not scary, presentation of what correction officers do for our community. Thank you, Captain.” Captain De Luca shook Mr. Highballer’s hand, gave a fast nod to the class, and he was gone. But not before he hugged Double D.
Double D was beaming with pride. For a moment Nicky disliked him for it, but could not understand why. He resented the smile he wore and the way he proudly sat back down in his seat. He knew it was wrong to be mad at Double D but he could not help it.
“That was great. Wasn’t my dad awesome? Huh?”
“Yeah, great,” Nicky said, not looking at him.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
Ray Wolfe was caught whispering something to his neighbor.
“You in the back, you’re talking fast enough,” said Mr. Highballer. “How about sharing all that knowledge with the rest of the class? What do your fathers do for a living? Mr. Wolfe?”
Ray looked up like he was surprised. “Who, me?”
“Yes you. You’re the only Wolfe in the class. What is your father doing?”
“Twenty years,” Ray blurted out, and the whole class burst out laughing.
Mr. Highballer did not get the joke. “Class, be quiet. I’m sorry Mr. Wolfe, you were saying?”
Big Tony quickly answered. “His father’s in jail for armed robbery. He’s a real loser too.” It seemed now that Bitty was gone, Big Tony got his courage back.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. How horrible for you and your mother,” Mr. Highballer said.
Ray put up a good front. He sat straight in his chair and took a deep breath. “No big deal,” he said like it meant nothing to him. “He’s really not going to be in there the whole twenty years. As a matter of fact, he’s up for parole in two months.”
Ray Wolfe was tall like Tony but not as heavy. He was black and all the girls thought he was cute. He was the only one in the class who did not let Big Tony intimidate him. Tony left him alone. He looked at Big Tony. “And when my father gets out, maybe he’ll get even with the guys who talk about him when he was in there. Maybe he’ll visit them at night when no one can hear their screams. Maybe he’ll bring Bitty with him.”
Ray stood up and walked toward Big Tony. “And maybe he’ll have a knife with him because his gun would make too much noise, and maybe he’ll cut these people with big mouths into little pieces and leave them in their beds for their mothers to find.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Wolfe. Take your seat and be quiet or go with Miss Degennaro,” Mr. Highballer ordered. “Sit down.”
Without taking his eyes off Big Tony and without Mr. Highballer seeing, Ray fashioned his hand into the shape of a gun and stuck it into his belt. Big Tony just stared at him expressionless.
“What about you, Mr. Wright?” Mr. Highballer asked as he walked down the aisle toward Nicky’s desk. “What does your father do?”
Nicky looked around at all the faces and hated to be the center of attention twice in one day. “My father just has a job. It’s not a career or anything. As a matter of fact, he has two jobs. Which one do you want to hear about?”
Big Tony stopped staring at Ray long enough to turn his attention to Nicky, obviously trying not to lose his inflated position in the class. “Not smart enough to have one good-paying job, eh?”
Nicky looked at Big Tony with malice, the word malice here meaning wanting to beat the crap out of him.
“Quiet, Anthony. Well, like a lot of people in this economy, he has to take a second job to pay the bills. Your father is to be commended for his resourcefulness.” Mr. Highballer pushed his glasses up and continued, “Tell us about one of the jobs.”
Mr. Highballer was now standing in front of Nicky’s desk. He picked up his pants and adjusted his glasses. Nicky looked down when he answered, “He’s a plumber.”
“A plumber, that’s a good job,” Mr. Highballer stated. “Plumber, electrician, mason—these are all vitally important jobs. Miss Williams, your dad’s an electrician, isn’t he?”
Alyah Williams nodded and half smiled. “Yeah.”
Mr. Highballer turned back to Nicky. “What’s his other job?”
Nicky mumbled his words like he was embarrassed. “He’s a fireman.”
“I’m sorry, you talked into your shirt just then. What else does your father do? Loud, so everyone can hear.”
Nicky said loudly, “He’s a fireman.”
“A firefighter? How wonderful. My father is a retired firefighter. Did you know that?”
“He is?” Nicky perked up. Maybe this isn’t as bad as he thought. If the teacher’s father is a firefighter, he should not be ashamed. After all, it’s not like he’s a garbage man. Oops.
“My father always used the term firefighter and not fireman. He used to say that fireman sounded like a comic book character. You know...Superman, Batman, Fireman. So, you can always use the term firefighter when you talk about your dad. Or you can say Smokeater. My dad liked that. He worked on the other side of town in Ladder 75. Where’s your dad?”
“Ladder 52, a couple of blocks from here.”
“I know where that is,” Mr. Highballer said, smiling. “Small world.” Mr. Highballer made his way back to the front of the room. “In fact, I hope you could get your father to come and speak to the class about firefighting and how dangerous it is and the importance of fire safety in the home. How many people asked their parents to come to class?”
Mr. Highballer raised his hand as if to show the kids how it’s done, and he waited to see if anyone followed. He looked around and a few kids slowly raised their hands. He looked at Nicky, who felt he was put on the spot. He did not ask his father because he knew the answer was going to be no. His father was always too busy. It seemed Mr. Highballer was counting on him so he reluctantly raised his hand.Jerry Quist [1] [2] was of average height and wore his hair long, parted down the middle. He had an oblong face with a sharp nose and pencil thin smile. He always wore an army fatigue jacket. He raised his hand. Mr. Highballer quickly looked him over. “Yes, Jerry?”
Jerry showed that his hands were empty before he spoke. “What are we supposed to write in this report? My dad works in the financial district. He does something with stocks but I’m not sure exactly what it is.”
“Just like I gave a pass to Mr. De Luca, if your parents let you take a day off from school...”
Suddenly everyone’s eyes lit up. Some noise came from the left side of the class where Emily Holly and Alyah Williams sat. The excited look on their faces suggested what was on their minds. A day off from school, that’s great. How do we get that?
“Don’t act like you didn’t know. I wrote this on the board two weeks ago. Didn’t anyone write it down?” Mr. Highballer asked the class. Some students shook their heads and others just played dumb. Mr. Highballer took a deep breath. “Anyway, I will excuse you also to go to work with your parents and write down everything you learn. But your parents must agree to it. However, if they don’t, you’ll just have to do your best by talking to them about what they do and write that down in your report.”
Jerry Quist uttered to his neighbor, Pamela Dysart, something very mean but loud enough so everyone heard. “What’s Karen gonna do? Collect garbage with her old man?”
The class laughed and Larry Dwyer added to the wisecrack. “Nah, she’s just going to walk behind him and swat the flies.”
“Stop it right now!” Mr. Highballer screamed as more of the class laughed. “You people need a lesson in sensitivity. You three see me after class. Karen, don’t you listen to them. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
Karen sat silently in her seat, looking straight ahead. Her eyes glassed over but she held back the tears. She was breathing deeply and Nicky could see she was shaking. He reached across the aisle and grabbed her hand under the desk.
“Don’t let them get to you,” he whispered.
Briefly describe.
ok
