Cave Under the City Read Free Page B

below me in the street. “Piano lesson, today? Do re mi fa …” Except for Irv’s mother, everyone in his family played an instrument. Me, I played the radio. If I could play something, though, it wouldn’t be the violin or the piano. It would be something big like a trombone or a tuba. Some afternoons in the Coops there was music coming out of every single window. It sounded like an orchestra, like the whole house was practicing, everyone trying to drown everyone else out. If I played the tuba, I’d drown them all out.
    â€œHey, Irv, meet you at the first candy store, later.”
    Isabelle Arnow looked up. I didn’t see her till it was too late. She was going by with one of her friends. Was I screeching? What did I sound like? I thought I sounded like a bird. Not too smart, not too suave. Isabelle! Oh, Isabelle’s nice. I don’t talk to her, but I look at her a lot. When I’m behind her I look at her neck and the backs of her arms. She has dimples in both elbows. I haven’t gotten up the nerve to talk to her yet, but I will one of these days.
    I waved to her. Suave, like a movie star, Ronald Colman or Errol Flynn. Isabelle nudged her friend and whispered in her ear. She might have smiled, but she was too far away to tell.
    Later, I met my friends at the first candy store. Irv was reading the paper and Chick was shadow-boxing with George. Irv’s father was on the corner talking to another man. Mr. Horowitz was short, like Irv, with glasses and the same round face. “Hello, Holtz. Where’s your father these days?”
    â€œIs this Holtz the painter?” the other man said. “Is your father working? I don’t see him around. Where is he?”
    â€œBaltimore.”
    â€œIs he working?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œAm I talking about Rockefeller? I asked you, is your father working?”
    â€œMmmm.”
    â€œYou see,” the other man said. “That’s what I’m telling you, Horowitz. You want to work? A little ambition, that’s all that’s needed. There’s no depression. It’s a word the newspapers made up. It’s in your head. That’s where the fight has to be won. What did President Roosevelt say? We only have to fear—” He turned to me. “What’s the rest of it?”
    â€œThe only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
    â€œVery good, Holtz. A smart boy. A plus. You see, the schools are doing their part. Now if we all did our parts … if everyone believed, had confidence, spent their money. Money, buying, spending, that’s what makes work.”
    â€œNothing’s going to help,” Irv’s father said. “Roosevelt is sticking plasters on a sinking ship. Capitalism is on its last legs.” Irv’s father talked with both his hands. He was always arguing. “Once the workers in this country unite—”
    George grabbed me from behind and dragged me back.
    â€œHey, you big ape, let go. It’s interesting.”
    He yanked my ear. I gave him an elbow in the gut. Chick, George, and I started to spar around. George had a couple of Baby Ruths. One he ate in front of us. He was a pig. Last summer, Irv and I stopped talking to him completely. We agreed he was a self-centered, egotistical, selfish, ignorant jerk, but when school started we were friends again.
    â€œWho wants some?” George peeled the second candy bar.
    Chick took a piece and so did Irv, but I refused. “Eat it yourself, you fat cow.”
    â€œThanks.” He stuffed his mouth. “When are you going to treat, Tolley, or are you too cheap? You guys want to go over to Woolworth’s and get some jelly beans? Of course, nothing for Tolley.”
    â€œIf I want anything, I’ll get it for myself.”
    â€œWhat are you going to pay for it with? You don’t have any money. I heard your family’s on relief.”
    â€œHey! You want something, big mouth? You