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having a good time。 The boys thought about the girls and the
girls thought about the boys。 But all that came of it was a
queer feeling in the room。
It was then she began to notice Harry Minowitz。 He lived in
the house next door and she had known him all her life。
Although he was two years older she had grown faster than
him； and in the summer…time they used to wrestle and fight out
on the plot of grass by the street。 Harry was a Jew boy； but he
did not look so much like one。 His hair was light brown and
straight。 Tonight he was dressed very neat； and when he came
in the door he had hung a grown man's panama hat with a
feather in it
on the hatrack。
It wasn't his clothes that made her notice him。 There was
something changed about his face because he was without the
horn…rimmed specs he usually wore。 A red； droppy sty had
come out on one of his eyes and he had to cock his head
sideways like a bird in order to see。 His long； thin hands kept
touching around his sty as though it hurt him。 When he asked
for punch he stuck the paper cup right into her Dad's face。 She
could tell he needed his glasses very bad。 He was nervous and
kept bumping into people。 He didn't ask any girl to prom
except her—and that was because it was her party。
All the punch had been drunk。 Her Dad was afraid she would
be embarrassed； so he and her Mama had gone back to the
kitchen to make lemonade。 Some of the people were on the
front porch and the sidewalk。 She was glad to get out in the
cool night air。 After the hot； bright house she could smell the
new autumn in the darkness。
Then she saw something she hadn't expected。 Along the edge
of the sidewalk and in the dark street there was a bunch of
nighborhood kids。 Pete and Sucker Wells and Baby and
Spareribs—the whole gang that started at below Bubber's age
and went on up to over twelve。 There were even kids she
didn't know at all who had somehow smelled a party and come
to hang around。 And there were kids her age and older that she
hadn't invited either because they had done something mean to
her or she had done something mean to them。 They were all
dirty and in plain94
shorts or draggle…tailed knickers or old everyday dresses。 They
were just hanging around in the dark to watch the party。 She
thought of two feelings when she saw those kids —one was
sad and the other was a kind of warning。
'I got this prom with you。' Harry Minowitz made out like he
was reading on his card； but she could see nothing was written
on it。 Her Dad had come onto the porch and blown the whistle
that meant the beginning of the first prom。
'Yeah；' she said。 'Let's get going。'
They started out to walk around the block。 In the long dress
she still felt very ritzy。 'Look yonder at Mick Kelly！' one of the
kids in the dark hollered。 'Look at her！' She just walked on like
she hadn't heard； but it was that Spare…ribs； and some day soon
she would catch him。 She and Harry walked fast along the
dark sidewalk； and when they came to the end of the street
they turned down another block。
'How old are you now； Mick—thirteen？'
'Going on fourteen。'
She knew what he was thinking。 It used to worry her all the
time。 Five feet six inches tall and a hundred and three pounds；
and she was only thirteen。 Every kid at the party was a runt
beside her； except Harry； who was only a couple of inches
shorter。 No boy wanted to prom with a girl so much taller than
him。 But maybe cigarettes would help stunt the rest of her
growth。
'I grew three and a fourth inches just in last year；' she said。
'Once I saw a lady at the fair who was eight and a half feet
tall。 But you probably won't grow that big。'
Harry stopped beside a dark crepe myrtle bush。 Nobody was
in sight。 He took something out of his pocket and started
fooling with whatever it was。 She leaned over to see—it was
his pair of specs and he was wiping them with his
handkerchief。
'Pardon me；' he said。 Then he put on his glasses and she could
hear him breathe deep。
'You ought to wear your specs all the time。'
'Yeah。'
'How come you go around without them？'
95
The night was very quiet and dark。 Harry held her elbow when
they crossed the street。
'There's a certain young lady back at the party that thinks it's
sissy for a fellow to wear glasses。 This certain person—oh
well； maybe I am a'
He didn't finish。 Suddenly he tightened up and ran a few steps
and sprang for a leaf about four feet above his head。 She just
could see that high leaf in the dark。 He had a good spring to
his jumping and he got it the first time。 Then he put the leaf in
his mouth and shadow…boxed for a few punches in the dark。
She caught up with him。
As usual a song was in her mind。 She was humming to herself。
'What's that you're singing？
'
。It's a piece by a fellow named Mozart'
Harry felt pretty good。 He was sidestepping with his feet like
a
fast boxer。 'That sounds like a sort of German name。
'
'I reckon so。
'
'Fascist？' he asked。
*What？
'
'I say is that Mozart a Fascist or a Nazi？
'
Mick thought a minute。 *No。 They're new； and this fellow's
been dead some time。
'
'It's a good thing。' He began punching in the dark again。 He
wanted her to ask why。
'I say it's a good thing；' he said again。
'Why？
'
'Because I hate Fascists。 If I met one walking on the street I'd
kill him。
'
She looked at Harry。 The leaves against the street light made
quick； freckly shadows on his face。 He was excited。 'How
come？' she asked。 'Gosh！ Don't you ever read the paper？ You
see； it's this
way
'
They had come back around the block。 A commotion was
going on at her house。 People were yelling and running on the
sidewalk。 A heavy sickness came in her belly。
There's not time to explain unless we prom around the block
again。 I don't mind telling you why I hate Fascists。 I'd like to
tell about it。
'
This was probably the first chance he had got to spiel96
these ideas out to somebody。 But she didn't have time to listen。
She was busy looking at what she saw in the front of her
house。 'O。K。 I'll see you later。' The prom was over now； so she
could look and put her mind on the mess she saw。
What had happened while she was gone？ When she left the
people were standing around in the fine clothes and it was a
real party。 Now—after just five minutes—the place looked
more like a crazy house。 While she was gone those kids had
come out of the dark and right into the party itself。 The nerve
they had！ There was old Pete Wells banging out of the front
door with a cup of punch hi his hand。 They bellowed and ran
and mixed with the invited people —in their old loose…legged
knickers and everyday clothes。
Baby Wilson messed around on the front porch—and Baby
wasn't more than four years old。 Anybody could see she ought
to be home in bed by now； same as Bubber。 She walked down
the steps one at a time； holding the punch high up over her
head。 There was no reason for her to be here at all。 Mister
Brannon was her uncle and she could get free candy and
drinks at his place any time she wanted to。 As soon as she was
on the sidewalk