Shoeshine Girl Read Online Free Page A

you.’”
    â€œAll right,” she said.
    â€œOne more thing. You didn’t say yesterday if you were coming back or not. This time I want to know. Are you coming back tomorrow?”
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œCome about the same time,” he said. “I’m going to bring you something.”
    What he brought her was a white canvas apron. It had two pockets. It had straps that went over her shoulders and tied in the back. There were black letters across the front.
    â€œWhy does it say ‘Lane’s Lumber Company’?” she asked. “Why doesn’t it say ‘Al’s Shoeshine Corner’?”
    â€œBecause it came from Lane’s Lumber Company,” he said. “Fred Lane is a friend of mine, and he gave it to me.”
    It was nothing but a canvas apron. She didn’t know why she should be so pleased with it. But it was a long time since anything had pleased her as much. She liked the stiff, new feel of the cloth. The pockets were deep. She liked to put her hands into them.
    That night she thought about the apron. She had left it locked up at the stand. She almost told her mother and father about it in the letter she wrote them. She had promised to write twice a week—to make Aunt Claudia happy. But she didn’t think they would care about her apron. All she wrote was:
    Dear Mother and Father,
    I am all right. Everything is all right here. It was hot today.
    Good-by,                         
    S ARAH I DA                      
    She didn’t tell Aunt Claudia about her apron. She didn’t feel too friendly toward Aunt Claudia.
    There were times when she didn’t even feel too friendly toward Al.
    There was the time when she shined an old man’s shoes. He paid her and went away.
    Al said, “I didn’t hear you say ‘thank you.’”
    â€œHe didn’t give me any tip,” she said. “The old stingy-guts.”
    They were alone at the stand. Al said, “What did you call him?”
    â€œOld stingy-guts,” she said. “That’s what he is.”
    â€œDon’t you ever say a thing like that again,” said Al in a cold, hard voice. “He didn’t have to give you a tip. Nobody has to. If he wants to give you something extra, that’s his business. But if he doesn’t, that’s his business, too. I want to hear you say ‘thank you’ whether you get any tip or not.”
    It scared her a little to see him so angry. She didn’t speak to him for quite a while.
    But that evening he said, as if nothing had happened, “I could use some help in the morning, too. You want to work here all day?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said.
    â€œYou can if you want to. Ask your aunt.”
    She started home. On the way, a boy caught up with her. His arms and legs were long, and he took long steps. He looked ugly, with his lower lip pushed out. He asked, “What are you doing working for Al?”

    She walked faster. He kept up with her. “How much is he paying you?”
    â€œI don’t see why I should tell you,” she said.
    â€œYou’ve got my job, that’s why.”
    The light turned green, and she crossed the street. He didn’t follow her.
    All evening she thought about what the boy had said. In the morning she asked Al about it.
    â€œWas he a skinny boy?” asked Al. “Did he have light hair?”
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œThat was Kicker.”
    â€œHis name is Kicker?”
    â€œThat’s what he called himself when he was little. Now we all call him that. He’s my neighbor.”
    â€œWhat did he mean when he said I had his job?”
    â€œI don’t know. Once I asked him if he wanted to work for me. He said he did. Then he never came to work. He didn’t want the job,