new chinos and plaid shirts, the girls following, their hair combed into neat braids, their knee socks pulled up high.
Billy Silk watched them from the cement stoop in front of his house. He was still wearing his pajamas and his feet were bare. Inside, his mother was fast asleep. The baby had awakened at six, and Billy had given him a juice bottle, which James sucked on dreamily in his crib. Mr. Popper had followed Billy outside, and now the cat sat beside him, licking his paws and ignoring Billy. When Billy ran his hand over Mr. Popperâs fur, the cat arched his back, but he didnât stop grooming himself. He didnât even blink. Billy found himself missing Happy. Early in the mornings, when everyone was asleep, Billy used to get a carrot out of the refrigerator and hold it through the wire of Happyâs cage. The rabbit always seemed grateful; he would let Billy pet him through the meshing, he would drum his foot up and down with pleasure.
This morning the air felt cool. Billy Silk wished he had slippers. He was eating stale cookies for breakfast. He had already had a Yoo-Hoo, which he drained while standing in front of the open refrigerator. If he was still hungry after the cookies, he planned to eat one of the green tomatoes his mother had left to ripen on the windowsill. Lately Billy found he was eating a huge amount of food. He figured they must be running out of money, because his mother had been pretending she was on a diet, when anyone could see she didnât need it. Every day Billy swore he would eat less, but he could never keep his promise, even though all his mother ever had was black coffee, grapefruit halves sprinkled with sugar, and glasses of skim milk.
Nora would never have admitted it, but Billy knew she kept finding more and more wrong with the house. A family of squirrels was living in the garage, and the refrigerator was on the blink so that sometimes the milk went sour and other times the eggs froze in their shells. When it rained the bathroom sink filled with water, and they had found a garter snake making its way across the linoleum in the basement. Nora insisted that everything was great; or, if it wasnât exactly great, it would be soon. She had begun selling magazine subscriptions by phone, and she talked herself into a job as a manicurist at Armandâs, the beauty shop next to the A&P. For the past few days, Nora had been practicing on herself, so that the house smelled like nail-polish remover, and Billy found emery boards on the kitchen counters and in between the pillows of the couch. But if it was so great, why was she drinking coffee and eating grapefruit, why had no one on the block talked to them yet?
Billy hunched over on the stoop as he watched the last of the children walk to school. They all had lunch boxes, and Billy knew that Nora had made his lunch the night before, in case she overslept, and that she had put his sandwich and his orange into a small brown paper bag. He thought of his fatherâs blackout trick, the piece of magic in which nothing was left but his clothes, and he wondered if you could inherit a talent like that. He could almost believe he was becoming invisible; he could feel something curling up inside himself. While Billy was eating the last cookie, Ace McCarthy came outside. He was wearing a white shirt his mother had ironed while he had breakfast, and a pair of black slacks the Saint had made him promise heâd throw out because they were so tight. He stood in his driveway and shook a cigarette out of his pack of Marlboros.
âHey.â He nodded to Billy Silk across the lawn.
Billy stared at Ace and chewed his cookie. Ace was about to go get Danny Shapiro so they could walk to school together. Instead, he crossed the lawn. There was dew on the grass and it left droplets on his black boots.
âDamn it,â Ace said when he saw that his boots were wet. He went over to Billy and smoked his cigarette, keeping an eye out for
Billy Silk watched them from the cement stoop in front of his house. He was still wearing his pajamas and his feet were bare. Inside, his mother was fast asleep. The baby had awakened at six, and Billy had given him a juice bottle, which James sucked on dreamily in his crib. Mr. Popper had followed Billy outside, and now the cat sat beside him, licking his paws and ignoring Billy. When Billy ran his hand over Mr. Popperâs fur, the cat arched his back, but he didnât stop grooming himself. He didnât even blink. Billy found himself missing Happy. Early in the mornings, when everyone was asleep, Billy used to get a carrot out of the refrigerator and hold it through the wire of Happyâs cage. The rabbit always seemed grateful; he would let Billy pet him through the meshing, he would drum his foot up and down with pleasure.
This morning the air felt cool. Billy Silk wished he had slippers. He was eating stale cookies for breakfast. He had already had a Yoo-Hoo, which he drained while standing in front of the open refrigerator. If he was still hungry after the cookies, he planned to eat one of the green tomatoes his mother had left to ripen on the windowsill. Lately Billy found he was eating a huge amount of food. He figured they must be running out of money, because his mother had been pretending she was on a diet, when anyone could see she didnât need it. Every day Billy swore he would eat less, but he could never keep his promise, even though all his mother ever had was black coffee, grapefruit halves sprinkled with sugar, and glasses of skim milk.
Nora would never have admitted it, but Billy knew she kept finding more and more wrong with the house. A family of squirrels was living in the garage, and the refrigerator was on the blink so that sometimes the milk went sour and other times the eggs froze in their shells. When it rained the bathroom sink filled with water, and they had found a garter snake making its way across the linoleum in the basement. Nora insisted that everything was great; or, if it wasnât exactly great, it would be soon. She had begun selling magazine subscriptions by phone, and she talked herself into a job as a manicurist at Armandâs, the beauty shop next to the A&P. For the past few days, Nora had been practicing on herself, so that the house smelled like nail-polish remover, and Billy found emery boards on the kitchen counters and in between the pillows of the couch. But if it was so great, why was she drinking coffee and eating grapefruit, why had no one on the block talked to them yet?
Billy hunched over on the stoop as he watched the last of the children walk to school. They all had lunch boxes, and Billy knew that Nora had made his lunch the night before, in case she overslept, and that she had put his sandwich and his orange into a small brown paper bag. He thought of his fatherâs blackout trick, the piece of magic in which nothing was left but his clothes, and he wondered if you could inherit a talent like that. He could almost believe he was becoming invisible; he could feel something curling up inside himself. While Billy was eating the last cookie, Ace McCarthy came outside. He was wearing a white shirt his mother had ironed while he had breakfast, and a pair of black slacks the Saint had made him promise heâd throw out because they were so tight. He stood in his driveway and shook a cigarette out of his pack of Marlboros.
âHey.â He nodded to Billy Silk across the lawn.
Billy stared at Ace and chewed his cookie. Ace was about to go get Danny Shapiro so they could walk to school together. Instead, he crossed the lawn. There was dew on the grass and it left droplets on his black boots.
âDamn it,â Ace said when he saw that his boots were wet. He went over to Billy and smoked his cigarette, keeping an eye out for
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