Waiting with Elmer. Deanna K. Klingel

street, barefoot and sweaty, smelling like a ripened field.

      Willy awakened as usual to the sound of cups rattling, the smell of strong coffee and toast burning in the oven. He rubbed his eyes and remembered the end-of-the-year school award ceremony last night. He hurried through his morning routines and slid into a chair at the kitchen table.

      “Willy, my man, we were all so proud of you last night. Look at all those awards! You got yourself some notice. You managed to get this school year done in style.” Rake laughed, and Drum put the pancakes on the table.

      “I should say so. Why I’m so proud, I’m like the daddy with the bustin’ buttons,” Drum answered. “Hey there, Charles, good morning. How’s it feel to have your math student being the top o’ his class? Like the good ol’ days?” Charles grinned and hobbled to the table.

      Willy felt his face flushing. Inside his heart was warm; his stomach no longer hurt. These men cared that he went to school and learned.

      I think there’s more to me than what I seem, too. At least, they think so.

      He’d been so busy living and learning, he forgot he was waiting.

      “Another couple weeks and you’ll be out of school for the summer, Willy. What you planning to do?”

      “Mr. Okei is going to hire me on full-time at his market. His daughter is going to have a baby and won’t be working there anymore. So, I’ll be working every day.”

      “Well, now, good for you. Go-o-od for you.” Willy felt heavy warm hands squeezing his shoulders as they passed by his chair. “Good for you.”

      Willy gulped his pancakes, took a quick swig of Drum’s coffee, and charged out the door, book bag flung over his shoulder. The spring air massaged his senses and he hopscotched over the colored sidewalk squares. Somehow, in the last year he’d lost much of his suspicion. He’d stopped looking over his shoulder and backing against trees, expecting an ambush. He stopped watching for the truck. He’d come close to believing in the goodness of people. But his secret nagged silently.

      He was thinking about two things this morning: his final exams, and the baseball season. He’d never been on any kind of team before, and he didn’t understand baseball a year ago. Now it was his passion. He liked having a schedule, and he liked back slapping with his teammates for good luck. He loved the smell of his leather glove and the heft of the bat. The crack when it smacked that ball was the greatest sound in the world. Life was great. And just as he was about to say, “Thank you, God, for all this,” he was ambushed.

      Two NHS letter sweaters stepped out of the deep doorway of the Savings and Loan. One on each side, they strong-armed him, turned him into the service alley next to the bakery. Behind the buildings, they dragged him to the road leading out of town. He’d been there once before, when the sheriff arrested him and took his marbles. Out of sight of the town, they threw him against the brick wall and pummeled his kidneys. His face slammed against the building over and over. A strong kick behind his knees brought him down. Once he was on the ground, the two kicked him, pounded him, and a strong fist rendered him unconscious. The last thing Willy heard was a truck rattling down the street.