The Planet of Junior Brown Read Online Free PDF

Junior’s side once more, Buddy let himself ease into Junior’s mood. Soon they were again together in some unspoken regard.
    There were many cars on the street called Riverside Drive. There were lots of people, folks who lived in the tall, orderly apartment buildings lining the street. Buddy looked up at the buildings with something close to awe. He could imagine the good life of those folks living in the buildings, he just couldn’t see himself ever living there or having such a life.
    No way, he thought. He felt suddenly tired. His body ached from the cold.
    In this neighborhood Junior and Buddy walked closer to one another, with their shoulders sometimes touching. They were both tall. They looked older than their years and their sudden, loud energy often scared people. Buddy was as muscled and well proportioned as a college freshman just out of high school playing fields. Junior was huge and oddly graceful, like a man who has lived comfortably with his fat for a long time. His face with its smooth black skin was so round, his eyes appeared to be swollen closed into slits. He had no eyebrows to speak of, just two lines of movement above his eyes which drooped toward his temples in a permanent expression of sadness.
    Junior was soaked through with sweat in two oblong circles under his arms. That was the reason Buddy paused at the bus stop as though it had been decided they would take a bus. Not saying a word, Junior went on. If he were to get on a bus this time of day, he could usually find two empty seats together. He could sit down. Hiding himself there in the rear of the bus, he could look like anybody else of ordinary size. He could stay on the bus for as long as he wanted, usually to the end of the downtown line.
    At the bus stop on 97th Street, Junior started across to the opposite corner. The light had turned green by the time Buddy saw him. Buddy had to cross against the traffic; he put out his hands menacingly to the cars. Tires screeched. One driver came too close and yelled something. Buddy didn’t bother to worry about what someone tried to say.
    Probably think I’m some alcoholic. Buddy grinned at the cars and spun around once on his heels before leaping onto the curb on the other side of the Drive. He saw the Riverside bus coming down the winding hill above 99th Street. He watched it a moment and then turned away toward Broadway.
    The two of them reached Broadway and Junior’s face was burning hot under the skin. His body tingled from the effort of keeping it moving. Itching, the very top of his head felt as though it had detached itself from the rest. Junior was lightheaded. The sensation that his scalp was floating had been with him for days.
    Junior loved Broadway. He knew he belonged to it the way the fixtures of newsstands and traffic lights belonged to it. The wide avenue had its lanes of uptown and downtown traffic divided by concrete islands. The islands had green benches, grass and bushes. A few trees struggled to grow in an atmosphere choked with automobile exhaust fumes. Junior found all of it beautiful—the stunted trees, the winter-brown plants and the old men and women. Out of the cheap retirement rooms of the side streets, the lonely old people rested awhile, like lost bundles on the cold, sunny benches. In summer the old folks were joined by young drug trippers. And nodding together in the light, they would all cover the island benches from noon to dusk.
    Odors from the bakery and the fresh-fish store wafted on the cold air as Junior and Buddy walked toward the subway. Junior felt heat with a scent of raw meat coming from the supermarket as the entrance door opened and closed for customers.
    And the people. Junior loved the people walking on Broadway. He longed to have a full look at the different faces he saw passing him. Not aware of what he was doing, Junior moved away from Buddy into the flow of people coming toward him. He lifted his hand as if to touch a profile