Don't You Know There's a War On? by Avi Page A

said. “The coast patrol would spot any Germans and shoot them down first. Besides,” I told her, “Germans don’t have any long-range bombers. Nothing to cross the Atlantic, anyway.”
    That made her feel better. “Here,” she said, giving me the milk. “You carry it. I don’t want to drop it.”
    Every once in a while her hand brushed up against me. Just to feel better, I think.
    We passed another air raid warden. “Hey, kids,” he yelled, “get on home now. You’re not supposed to be out.”
    Gloria grabbed my hand and made me go faster. But when we reached our building, I said, “Take the milk inside.”
    â€œAren’t you coming in?”
    â€œWant to sit and see what’s happening. Tell Mom I’ll be up soon as it’s over.”
    She gave me this worried look.
    â€œI’ll be all right,” I told her. “Go on.”
    She went. I stayed where I was. Way overhead I couldsee these searchlight beams going back and forth in the sky. Made me think of dueling swords in a Douglas Fairbanks movie.
    Another warden went by, but when she gave me this dirty look, I said, “I live here.” So she kept going.
    But the next warden who showed up stopped right in front of me. “Hey, kid!” he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    â€œI live here,” I told him.
    He considered me for a moment, then said, “Want to do something useful?”
    â€œSure,” I said.
    â€œMy walkie-talkie is on the blink. I’m supposed to report to the section commander—Mr. Handler—that this ward is fine. He’s at the corner of Hicks and Orange. Know where that is?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œFine. Go on down there and tell him that Watkins of Ward Sixteen said we’re pretty perfect. Repeat that.”
    â€œWatkins said Ward Sixteen is pretty perfect.”
    â€œRight. And if anyone stops you, just tell him Watkins sent you. Get that?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œOkay, scoot!”
    â€œYes, sir.” I was on my feet and running. The thing is, I knew I was heading right near where Miss Gossim lived.

22
    IT WAS DARK , but I was going the way I went to school. So I reached the corner of Hicks and Orange fast.
    The CD commander was easy to find ’cause there was this car, a Packard, with a Civil Defense flag flying from the antenna. A bunch of wardens were hanging around.
    â€œWhat you doing here, kid?” someone called when I got close.
    â€œI’m supposed to tell Mr. Handler that Watkins said Ward Sixteen is pretty perfect.”
    â€œI’m Mr. Handler,” said this man from the front seat of the car. A cigarette was in his mouth. It was stuck in a holder the way I’d seen pictures of President Roosevelt smoking his cigarette.
    I gave the message again, adding, “Watkins’s walkie-talkie ain’t working.”
    â€œYeah. All right, kid. Thanks. Now just beat it home. You’re not supposed to be out. You’ll get into trouble.”
    I backed away from the car and the CD men. But instead of going home, I headed for Miss Gossim’s apartment building.
    I reached it easy. When I got there, all I did was stand outside and look up toward the fifth floor. But since every window in the whole building was dark, I couldn’t see nothing.
    Even so, it felt good being there. As if I was watching over Miss Gossim or something. I mean, that looking over the cliff like I’d seen her do, it kept coming back bad into my head.
    And I kept thinking, Why does she have to get fired?
    Anyway, standing there, pretty soon I got to imagining bombs falling and that I had to save her like in the movie The Masked Marvel . I’d just burst through smoke and flames, finding her asleep in bed, when I heard, “Hey, kid!”
    It was another warden. Some 4-F fat guy, in a helmet and trench coat with a big nose and a mustache, so he looked like an old