The Planet of Junior Brown Read Online Free PDF Page B

here and a full face there. Without looking at him the people walking on Broadway sidestepped Junior. Knowing they might run into someone like him at any moment, they left him standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his hand raised.
    â€œDon’t do that!” Buddy whispered at him, taking his arm. “I told you before, you can’t do that, people don’t like that.”
    The two of them moved together through the crowd. Junior had not said a word. Buddy had to keep him moving, for Junior was still seeing and longing for the faces. Into the separate places of his mind he sorted features of black Haitians and Puerto Ricans from black Americans. Later, in his room, he would draw them all. The many Jews he saw Junior kept apart from all other groups. Jews were a contradiction in his mind and out of it. By design, they kept themselves separate; they would have been shocked to find themselves trapped inside Junior’s head.
    Junior’s mind gave every Jew he saw a powerful place on Broadway. Here they owned businesses or they were teachers, doctors, lawyers. They allowed the blacks to seize the apartment houses on the side streets while they held onto their enormous buildings on the avenues.
    The overwhelming noise of Broadway throbbed in Junior’s head. He had been walking as if in a trance, guided toward the subway by Buddy Clark.
    Something stirred inside Junior. He remembered. In the basement room of the school just today Buddy had asked Mr. Pool something—“ Is one folk measured only in relation to some other folk ”—that was it. But Junior couldn’t remember what Mr. Pool had answered.
    The top of Junior’s head itched with a new intensity. It seemed to lift away from his skull. At the pay booth in the subway he fumbled for change in his pockets with fingers that could not grasp.
    â€œKeep your hands at your sides before you get into trouble,” Buddy told Junior. “I’ve got the right money for both of us.”
    â€œWhat am I going to do?” Junior said. “I won’t never get through the turnstile.”
    â€œMan, what’s the matter with you?” Buddy said. “Do like you always do. I tell the lady at the booth. We put the money in right where she can see. I go through and hold open the exit door for you and then I go out and go through the turnstile again.”
    â€œShe won’t let us,” Junior said.
    The lady in the booth watched them closely but she let them pass through the way Buddy had planned.
    â€œYou worry about everything but what you need to worry about,” Buddy said to Junior. “I’m telling you, you ought to see yourself on Broadway, just standing there staring at people going by and then walking like you asleep. Like some nut—that’s what you ought to be worrying about.”
    I maybe could tell about it to Daddy, Junior thought, but he is there working in Jersey and staying the nights, too. If and when he gets home on a Saturday, I’ve been to the lesson and I can’t talk about it.
    Buddy steered Junior along the platform to where they could catch a local train which would make more frequent stops.
    I never do feel like talking about it until around Wednesday. I get to thinking about Friday and how something might’ve happened and how I won’t stand it if it has, even when I know there’s nothing I can do.
    They heard the train coming before they saw it. It pulled into the station. There were many people getting out. Buddy Clark pushed his way into the car. Junior waited until all the people were out of his way. The door was about to close again. Still Junior didn’t move. Buddy rushed to the door to hold it open.
    â€œMan!” he said. He jerked Junior forward so that Junior fell inside the train in a rush of his own weight.
    â€œI’ve got to make sure.” Junior’s mind spoke to him. “I’ve got to see it and play on the keys this