that was you he was talking about, Mowgli Tommy Ellis. And you love soup. Mowglitommy soup.”
He got a few laughs with that, but less because people thought it was funny and more because they figured they were supposed to laugh. With Butch that was the quickest and most sensible way to get through something sticky. It was wise.
Napoleon Charlie Ellis was not wise.
“Is that supposed to be an imitation of me? Or of my father?”
“What?” Butchie said, in the broadest, stupidest, most simpleton voice he could muster. “Mowglitommy soup? You mean, Mowglitommy?”
“Shut up, Butch,” I said. “You sound like a jerk.”
He just grinned at me, like a jerk.
“Do you take this bus, Mowgli?” Jum McDonaugh threw in. “I never seen you on this bus. You wouldn’t be going our way, would you?”
“I do not have to take any—”
“Right, your bus would be going the other way, huh? Takes me an hour and a half to get home. Must take a real long time to get you bused home, huh? It’s, ah, south, isn’t it? Long way south. Let us know if you need any help getting home. We could help you out, bust you home good and quick. Any ol’ day.”
“Let’s go, Napoleon,” I said, gently tugging on the front of his jacket. He squirmed out of my grip.
“If you don’t like it,” Napoleon said, “maybe you should not take the bus a’tall.”
Both Jum and Butchie laughed hard at the sound. “A’tall. Naht a’tall,” Jum said.
“That is right,” Napoleon went on, composed but still angry just the same. You had to know him to really be able to tell when he was angry. And I was just getting to know him. “Maybe you should go to school where you belong, and leave us alone.”
I had never seen a face go as red as Butchie’s face went then.
“Where we belong? ” He was bearing down on Napoleon now, with a stare so intense, his eyes were crossing, bulging, and going pink with bloodshot all at once. “What,” Butchie said, “do you know,” Butchie said, “about where,” he said, “I be-long?”
If this was a film with no sound, and if you had never seen a fight build up before, you would still know, this was a fight building up.
“Shut up, ” Redheaded Beverly said, yanking Butch’s arm.
He stopped moving toward Napoleon and turned on Beverly with enough force that it was almost as if he was moving on her now. He shook out of her grip violently.
So it was my turn to put a grip on him, and my turn to have his hot breath up my nose. “What’s this, like one of them mass hysterical things? You all goin’ nuts at the same time?” He was looking at me mean, but I was all right. I could do this with Butchie, at least this far. But as I said, I wasn’t really willing to test it much further. I stood.
“You’re just embarrassing everybody, Butch,” Beverly said. And true enough, all the others, including Jum, had sort of backed away from him. They were like most people, happy to make noise, in a crowd, but not much more than that.
Butch was different. Butch wanted more than that.
The others all made a serious show of watching for the bus instead, as it now came into view.
“Stop giving the Ward a bad name,” said Beverly.
The bus was pulling up to the curb when Butch gave me the smallest little shove in my chest, enough to push me back about three inches. But as he did it he was looking at Napoleon. And talking to Beverly.
“Okay Bev, I’ll stop embarrassing you. Let’s get on our scummy bus back to our scummy neighborhood where we can be ignorant and nobody’ll notice, huh?”
The bus doors opened, the 17s filed on. Except for Beverly. As Butchie stepped up, she stepped back, and away. “I’ll catch the next one,” she said just before the driver snapped the door shut.
Butchie really was a silent film this time, as he stood staring wide-eyed and openmouthed at us through the bus window at bold Beverly the traitor.
“What a goon,” Beverly said, then paused. “Shall we walk,
He got a few laughs with that, but less because people thought it was funny and more because they figured they were supposed to laugh. With Butch that was the quickest and most sensible way to get through something sticky. It was wise.
Napoleon Charlie Ellis was not wise.
“Is that supposed to be an imitation of me? Or of my father?”
“What?” Butchie said, in the broadest, stupidest, most simpleton voice he could muster. “Mowglitommy soup? You mean, Mowglitommy?”
“Shut up, Butch,” I said. “You sound like a jerk.”
He just grinned at me, like a jerk.
“Do you take this bus, Mowgli?” Jum McDonaugh threw in. “I never seen you on this bus. You wouldn’t be going our way, would you?”
“I do not have to take any—”
“Right, your bus would be going the other way, huh? Takes me an hour and a half to get home. Must take a real long time to get you bused home, huh? It’s, ah, south, isn’t it? Long way south. Let us know if you need any help getting home. We could help you out, bust you home good and quick. Any ol’ day.”
“Let’s go, Napoleon,” I said, gently tugging on the front of his jacket. He squirmed out of my grip.
“If you don’t like it,” Napoleon said, “maybe you should not take the bus a’tall.”
Both Jum and Butchie laughed hard at the sound. “A’tall. Naht a’tall,” Jum said.
“That is right,” Napoleon went on, composed but still angry just the same. You had to know him to really be able to tell when he was angry. And I was just getting to know him. “Maybe you should go to school where you belong, and leave us alone.”
I had never seen a face go as red as Butchie’s face went then.
“Where we belong? ” He was bearing down on Napoleon now, with a stare so intense, his eyes were crossing, bulging, and going pink with bloodshot all at once. “What,” Butchie said, “do you know,” Butchie said, “about where,” he said, “I be-long?”
If this was a film with no sound, and if you had never seen a fight build up before, you would still know, this was a fight building up.
“Shut up, ” Redheaded Beverly said, yanking Butch’s arm.
He stopped moving toward Napoleon and turned on Beverly with enough force that it was almost as if he was moving on her now. He shook out of her grip violently.
So it was my turn to put a grip on him, and my turn to have his hot breath up my nose. “What’s this, like one of them mass hysterical things? You all goin’ nuts at the same time?” He was looking at me mean, but I was all right. I could do this with Butchie, at least this far. But as I said, I wasn’t really willing to test it much further. I stood.
“You’re just embarrassing everybody, Butch,” Beverly said. And true enough, all the others, including Jum, had sort of backed away from him. They were like most people, happy to make noise, in a crowd, but not much more than that.
Butch was different. Butch wanted more than that.
The others all made a serious show of watching for the bus instead, as it now came into view.
“Stop giving the Ward a bad name,” said Beverly.
The bus was pulling up to the curb when Butch gave me the smallest little shove in my chest, enough to push me back about three inches. But as he did it he was looking at Napoleon. And talking to Beverly.
“Okay Bev, I’ll stop embarrassing you. Let’s get on our scummy bus back to our scummy neighborhood where we can be ignorant and nobody’ll notice, huh?”
The bus doors opened, the 17s filed on. Except for Beverly. As Butchie stepped up, she stepped back, and away. “I’ll catch the next one,” she said just before the driver snapped the door shut.
Butchie really was a silent film this time, as he stood staring wide-eyed and openmouthed at us through the bus window at bold Beverly the traitor.
“What a goon,” Beverly said, then paused. “Shall we walk,
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