Eggplant Alley (9781593731410) Read Online Free PDF Page A

diamond was pulling at them, the way the tide pulls you at the beach.
    â€œLook. The old baselines,” Fishbone said. He scraped his sneaker along the faded white lines painted onto the cement. “Let’s go get the guys. We can get a quick game in before dark.”
    Icky shrugged. “I don’t care.”
    Nicky silently rejoiced.
    A loud yelp echoed from the far end of the schoolyard. The sound came from where the black kids played basketball. Icky, Fishbone, and Nicky swiveled their heads. The basketball backboard quivered crazily. Someone had shot and missed badly, and the basketball was bounding away on the concrete, bouncing straight for Icky, Fishbone, and Nicky.
    The black kids ran a few steps, then gave up the chase when they saw the basketball headed toward the white boys on the stickball diamond.
    â€œI got it,” Icky said.
    Icky ran toward the basketball like a kickball player. He met the basketball with a mighty boot. Maybe he really intended to kick the ball back to the black kids. Nicky would never know.
    Icky kicked the basketball and it sailed high and hooked sharply to the left. The ball cleared the wall near the long concrete staircase that led down to Summit Avenue. The ball made a hollow ring as it bounded down the steps. Theoretically, with a few fateful bounces, the ball could have rolled all the way down to the Hudson River.
    Two of the black boys swore loudly and sprinted across the schoolyard. They ran, sneakers slapping, down the steps. Nicky pictured a long night of looking for that ball. A third black boy sauntered toward the steps, shaking his head, swearing bitterly. He hollered, “Dumb-ass. What’s your problem?”
    Icky boomed back, “I ain’t got no problem. What’s your problem?” Then he added, “Jigaboo.”
    â€œI ain’t got no problem, white trash. What’s your problem?”
    â€œI’ll give you a problem.”
    â€œOh, yeah?”
    â€œYeah.”
    And so forth.
    The black boy hissed, “I oughta whip your ass,” and took off down the steps.
    â€œLet’s beat it,” Icky said to Fishbone. Then to Nicky, “You better get out of here before they come back with a bazooka.”
    Icky and Fishbone loped into the shadow of Eggplant Alley. Nicky followed them across the concrete diamond, toward Building B. He thought, “What a lousy day. Nothing new. Nothing old. Nothing, nothing.”

The Creature from the Second Floor
7
    â€œ S o this is the historic first Earth Day,” Nicky thought, crunching cornflakes, listening to the radio news. The radio announcer declared Earth Day would “raise John Q. Citizen’s consciousness to the ills of polluted air, dirty water, the chemicals and poisons in all things, from the meat we eat, to the milk we drink.”
    Nicky eyed the grinning cow on the milk carton.
    He examined his bowl of milk-sodden cornflakes.
    He pushed the bowl away.
    â€œAnother turn for the worse,” he thought. “Some holiday. We don’t even get a day off.”
    The historic first Earth Day was a major topic at St. Peter’s Elementary. Students drew posters about the smelly Hudson River. They read a story, and the moral of the story was: Littering is bad. They recited poems about the American Indians and clean air. Nicky’s social studies teacher, Mr. McSwiggin, as usual, went a step farther. He took the class out of school, on a mission to clean up the empty lot next to Tony’s Auto Body.
    Mr. McSwiggin was fresh out of Fordham. He had arrived in the autumn with a full beard, which the principal, Sister Teresa, instructed him to shave back to a droopy mustache. Even then,Nicky was unhappy to have a teacher with a cool mustache. Another break with tradition. A teacher with facial hair. It was a first, unless you counted Mrs. Hamm.
    Nicky didn’t like this Mr. McSwiggin, who wore a mustache but wanted a beard. Nicky suspected the energetic