Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale Read Online Free Page A

convertible in the living room for her. And Joshua’s new room was much bigger than the old one, with a window to boot. There was even some furniture: a twin sized bed, a desk, a chair, and even a full mirror attached to the back side of the door. How convenient , Joshua thought, as he looked in the mirror and slid the envelope behind it.
     
    Joshua also started at a new school, P.S. 167, on the corner of Eastern Parkway and Schenectedy Avenue, and was one of six black kids in a class of twenty-five. Jerome Williams, the super’s son, was one of the others. Within no time, the two boys were the best of friends.
    Besides their color, however, they had little in common. Jerome had never known the likes of Lewis Avenue, and had grown up accustomed to being a black kid in a white man’s world. His family was from Alabama, and had come north eight years earlier. After staying with relatives in East New York for six months, Mr. Williams found the job as super and the family moved to Crown Heights.
    Outwardly, Jerome was soft and refined, always deferential to white people, whether teachers, classmates, or just folks on the streets. Considering Jerome’s father’s position, Joshua understood why he acted that way toward residents of their building, but with strangers, it was another matter. Joshua was perplexed, and suspected that Jerome was more bitter than met the eye.
    Jerome was short, fat, and clumsy. The Italian kids ridiculed and beat on him regularly. And he took it. When he came home with a swollen eye, fat lip, or whatever, his father would blame him and finish the job. Jerome took that too.
    This was how it was, until one brisk fall afternoon. Joshua and Jerome were walking home from school along the east side of Rochester Avenue, and a group of Irish kids were hanging out at the entrance to Lincoln Terrace Park. Joshua counted five of them, and assumed they were probably looking for trouble. Jerome, obviously thinking the same thing, grabbed Joshua’s jacket sleeve to pull him across the street. Joshua resisted.
    For almost two months, Joshua had watched Jerome cower time and time again. He hadn’t stepped in because he’d hoped Jerome would eventually rise to the occasion, which hadn’t yet happened. The kids at school knew better than to mess with Joshua. He was bigger and stronger than most of them, and they also knew that he wasn’t afraid. So he wasn’t going to act scared now. And neither was Jerome, if Joshua had any say in it.
    Joshua pulled Jerome back onto the sidewalk. “Where you think you’re going?” he said.
    “What you mean, man? Can’t you see what’s ahead over there?”
    “I can see just fine, but what’re you so afraid of?”
    “That there’s the meanest bunch of micks in the neighborhood, and the last time I ran into them I needed fifteen, count ’em, fifteen stitches,” Jerome said, flashing his fingers in Joshua’s face.
    Joshua looked at the group and didn’t recognize any of the faces. “They from another school?” he asked.
    “Yeah, they’re from that Catholic School down the block there. And they don’t like no Protestants like us. So I say we cross the street and stay out of their way!”
    “Jerome, you got to stick up for yourself sometime!”
    “It’s a bad time right now to start making changes, if you get my meaning. And anyway, you’re going to have to do some sticking up for yourself also if we get in a mess here. These ain’t like those micks and ginnies in school that’r scared of your size, these are animals, just looking to brag about having beaten up the likes of you.”
    “So what!” Joshua said, “I ain’t afraid, and you ain’t gonna be neither!”
    “Man, you crazy. I thought you told me they call you Peanut because of your eyes, but I’m starting to think it’s got more to do with your brain.”
    “Listen then, you go ahead, cross the street. I’m walking on this sidewalk, and that’s how it’s gonna be.”
    “Have it your