Boy O'Boy Read Online Free Page A

head. He holds on to the end of his iron bed and throws his head, wags his head back and forward in a sort of a circle, looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling and the floor again except his eyes are closed, again and again and again.
    I ask Billy if he wants to do something. Trade comics maybe, go to his place maybe.
    No, he can’t. Billy never invites me to his place. I’ve never been inside number seven Papineau. I’ve been at Horseball’s house many times even though you have to stand up against the wall it’s so crowded in there.
    And everybody’s been in Buz Sawyer’s place. Buz was always inviting everybody over — giving treats and telling stories.
    And I’ve been in Lenny Lipshitz’s house, number nine Papineau. The time I went over to give him back the money from the GAMBLING.
    His mother gave me some gefilte fish. I didn’t like it but I didn’t say anything.
    Lenny said he really liked gefilte fish but I didn’t believe him.
    But I’ve never been in Billy Batson’s house. My mother told me once that she thought Mrs. Batson was ashamed of something.
    Or was hiding something. I forget which.
    I’d like to see a picture of this ideal father he has.
    And so, in my place, Martin O’Boy’s, I have to go. There’s yelling and hollering.
    My brother Phil is probably under the bed barking like a dog.

6
Cheap and the Perfect Twin
    I ’M SITTING on the edge of my mother’s bed. My father slammed out of the house after the fight. Phil’s asleep in our room.
    My mother gets me to feel the baby inside kicking. Kick, kick. Like a little fist punching under a soft blanket. Kick. He wants to get out. Let me out. I want to be in the world!
    I tell my mother about the fat ladies’ race at the street dance.
    “My God, what will they think of next! Those parties are getting out of hand. What self-respecting woman would go in a thing like that? All that flab jiggling and flopping and bouncing around!”
    My mother tells me about the two ladies the other day. The ketchup lady and the turkey lady.
    “They think we’re not taking proper care of you. They said that at school last winter you weren’t dressed warm enough with just your big sweater and that you were caught GAMBLING and that you planned some violent summer activity in art class and they saw your rubbers instead of shoes. You’ll go first thing in the morning to get the shoes. I gave you the dollar.”
    Cheap comes in and jumps on the bed with us. He looks sad with his missing ear.
    I’m wondering if he worries about anything like I do. Does he ever wonder about anything? Or does he just wait around for something to come along?
    “You’re the perfect one,” my mother says, stroking my head. “You can’t be causing trouble now, can you, sweetheart? Phil is trouble enough, don’t you think?”
    Cheap is starting to purr. Getting comfortable.
    The baby is kicking.
    “You’ll have to mind Phil tomorrow, you know.” “Why?”
    “Granny’s funeral. We have to go to the funeral.” “Why can’t I go to Granny’s funeral?”
    “Because you have to mind Phil.”
    “Maybe Mrs. Batson or somebody could mind Phil.” “I couldn’t ask her to do that. You can’t ask anybody to do that.”
    “What about Horseball’s mother or one of the older sisters? Maybe one of them.”
    “No, I couldn’t. And don’t call him Horseball. It’s not nice. Call him by his real name. What’s his proper name, anyway?”
    “Horseball.”
    “No. His real name.”
    “Horace, I think. Something like Horace.”
    Back in my room I look at Phil there asleep in his bed. He looks so calm. I go in the bathroom and in the mirror there, I try to look like Phil.
    I open my mouth wide like I’m howling and I make my eyes as big as I can and I pull my hair back hard until what I see in the mirror scares me.
    Back in my bed, Cheap sleeps with me. Half on the pillow beside me.
    I think I love Cheap. Do I?
    I don’t know if I love anybody else.
    I sing “Moonlight