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Billy’s, and at the pet store on the other, Exotic Birds. He took a breath.
    “Billy,” he said. “Billy Nightingale.”

7

Mariel
    T his morning, Loretta had twirled around the tiny kitchen holding Mariel’s new blue dirndl skirt out in front of her. “You’ll look gorgeous,” she said, “like Mariel the movie star.”
    Mariel crossed the street now, the string on the box of bakery brownies for Mrs. Warnicki looped over one finger.
    Should she go to the picnic? She stopped to look in the window of Jordan’s candy store. The dirndl skirt with its wide band of red and yellow flowers swirled around her and the puffed sleeves of her blouse were tied with blue ribbons. Loretta had even curled her hair with a little sugar water and a bunch of kid curlers.
    Loretta would want to know all about Mrs.Warnicki’s picnic, how Mariel liked the brownies, how the lemonade tasted, the cookies, the games they played.
    The games. Mariel bit her lip.
    At the door, Loretta had given her a kiss. “Remember what President Roosevelt said that time.” She held one hand lightly under Mariel’s chin.
    Mariel had given her a quick nod.
    Loretta’s voice had floated after her down the steps.
“… the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
    Mariel had waved back.
    “That’s what he said, Mariel. Right?”
    “I know.”
    Mariel sighed. She’d have to go to the picnic. But that didn’t mean she had to be at the schoolyard the minute the doors opened. Instead she’d take herself over to Ebbets Field for a quick look, see what was going on.
    The Dodgers were playing this afternoon, and if she hung around the entrance, she might see one of the players going in early. Once when they were playing the Cardinals, she had seen Pete Reiser on his way into the stadium. He had tipped his hat at her as if she were grown up and had two legs that matched. Mariel turned and walked in the opposite direction from school. Yes, let Geraldine and Frankie hang around the hot schoolyard playing something like Ring Around the Rosy.
Osy Ray
. She grinned for a moment, thinking about what it would be like for such big kids to play such a baby game, but then she felt a quick pain somewhere in her chest. She swallowed, sticking her chin up in the air.
    In back of her was a jingle of sleigh bells and the clop of Daisy the horse as the ragman pulled onto the avenue. Mariel raised her hand so Benny would stop, then snapped open her purse to find the sugar cube she had put there this morning.
    “Hey, princess,” Benny called.
    “Hey, Benny.” She flattened her palm so Daisy could take the cube with thick yellow teeth, her muzzle soft against Mariel’s hand.
    “School today?” Benny said.
    She shook her head. “Schoolyard picnic.”
    Benny turned his head to one side.
    She tried to loosen her mouth, to make herself smile.
    “Maybe you’ll have a great time,” he said, looking a little doubtful. He clicked his tongue and Daisy started up again.
    Mariel waited for the light, then went toward Montgomery Street and Ebbets Field. She was halfway there when she noticed the shoes walking along next to her, keeping time. Black shoes, buffed so shiny you could almost see your face in them.
    No one called him Mr. Ambrose. Just Ambrose the cop. His hat was pushed back over his dark hair, his blue eyes crinkling. Blue eyes that saw everything.
    Ambrose the cop was everywhere. “Going to the picnic?” he said, eyebrows raised.
    Mariel didn’t answer. She turned herself around and headed back, putting Ebbets Field out of her mind andMrs. Warnicki’s picnic in. Ambrose walked with her as far as the gate, whistling.
    She stopped at the step and motioned with her hand, a don’t-come-with-me wave. He laughed, pulling his hat down over his eyes, and headed back down the street.
    Mariel was the last one there. All the old kids from fifth grade were running around the yard. Geraldine Ginty was charging up and down the school steps, her jump rope a lasso over