The Unmaking of Rabbit Read Free Page B

job. After one of the ladies screamed when Mr. Barker said, “That’ll be ninety cents” for two hothouse tomatoes, the other practically made him sign a piece of paper swearing the grapefruits were fresh. With a wink at Paul, Mr. Barker held his hand over his heart and said, “I promise they’re fresh as a daisy. Brought ’em up just yesterday from Florida.”
    Sour, unsmiling, the two ladies creaked out the door.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?” Mr. Barker asked Paul, who read from his grandmother’s list while Mr. Barker assembled the groceries.
    â€œI see you’re l-l-looking for a b-b-b-boy to help you,” Paul said. He almost never stuttered when he was with Mr. Barker. “I-I-I sure would like the job.”
    He put his head down and stared at the floor, embarrassed because he knew he had put Mr. Barker on the spot.
    â€œThere’s nothing I’d like better than to hire you,” he said, and Paul’s heart did a couple of flips in his chest, “but there’s one thing against it, and it’s an important thing. There’s a law,” he said slowly, putting the margarine and stuff into a bag. “They have this law against hiring anyone under sixteen. Now I know you’re a responsible boy and a hard worker”—Mr. Barker wordlessly held out a stick of gum and Paul took it, nodding his thanks—“but I also know you’re not anywheres near sixteen, right?”
    Paul carefully peeled the wrapper off the gum and just as carefully wadded it up into a ball, which he stuck in his pocket. He turned his head to look out the window. For a minute he thought he might start crying, and he knew that if that happened, things would never be the same between him and Mr. Barker. He swallowed hard, a method for dispelling tears he had found useful in the past, and said, “I’ll be twelve in three-and-a-half months.”
    And then he added, “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be such a hot idea anyway, because maybe my mother’s going to get married, and I might go to live with her.”
    â€œIs that right? That’s good news.” Mr. Barker sounded really pleased. “Wait’ll I tell the missus. She’ll probably whip you up a couple dozen tollhouse cookies and a pecan pie to take along with you.”
    â€œIt’s not set yet,” Paul said hastily. “It’s still kind of up in the air.”
    â€œYour grandmother’d sure miss you, that I know. She thinks the world of you.”
    â€œYeah, well,” Paul said, “I better get going. See you.”
    Lightning lit the sky as he walked home. When he came to Meadow Street, he saw a bunch of kids coming toward him. It was Freddy Gibson and Pete Todd and some of those. He started to cross over, pretending he hadn’t seen them, but someone called, “Rabbit, there’s Rabbit.” Although he wanted to run, Paul stood his ground.
    â€œBringing home the bacon, are you, Rabbit?” Freddy sneered. He was twice Paul’s size, though they were in the same class. Freddy had a constant group of hangerson, laughing at his jokes, playing up to him Paul was afraid of him, even if Freddy was a Boy Scout.
    â€œWhat you got in the sack?” Freddy asked, snatching it from Paul. “Anything good? Any grass?” The group snickered as if on cue.
    â€œJ-j-just some s-s-s-stuff for my grandmother,” Paul said, blinking.
    â€œHow come you live with your grandmother?” Freddy looked around to make sure he had an audience. “That must be a drag, living with an old lady. How come you don’t live with your parents?”
    â€œYeah, how come?” Pete Todd was Freddy’s echo. Everything Freddy did and said, Pete followed. Pete had his own personal echo, Scott Detmer, who chimed in with, “Yeah, how come?” and so on down the line. But Freddy was the undisputed leader.
    â€œI heard your old man ran out on