Free 18th Emergency by Betsy Byars Page B

but he had once been enormous, and everything he was wearing was too big for him. The cuffs of his shirt came down over his speckled hands. The cotton pants were gathered in at the waist with his belt. Mouse waited, watching sadly, while Mr. Casino pushed one of his checkers forward with a trembling hand.
    Mouse said, “My turn?” He bent forward over the board.
    In the kitchen, Mrs. Casino started to sing. Outside two men were arguing about baseball. A bus passed. Mrs. Casino started on a western song. Mouse tried not to think of anything but the checker game. He said self-consciously, “Oh, I’ve got a jump.” He took it and leaned back in his chair.
    It was a long, slow game, the first game Mouse had ever played in which it didn’t seem important who the winner was, or rather a game in which both players were winners.
    Mouse said, “Do you want to play again?” He waited a minute, and then he pushed all the checkers across to Mr. Casino and said gently, “You set them up this time, will you?”

S ATURDAY WAS WARM AND bright, the first pretty Saturday they had had since Christmas. Mouse, lying on his bed in the hall, could tell it was sunny just from the brightness of the normally dark hall.
    “Mom!” he called, not knowing what time it was and whether she had gone out to deliver cosmetics yet. “Mom!” There was no answer. There used to be a boy who lived in the apartment next door when Mouse was little, and every time Mouse would call, “Mommie!” the boy would answer, “Whatie?” in a high false voice.
    Mouse got out of bed slowly, in stages. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, looked at his feet, straightened, and then continued to stand by the bed for a moment. Then abruptly he dressed, went into the kitchen and looked at the boxes of cereal on the shelf. He tore open a box of Sugar Pops. He waited, looking at the cereal, and then refolded the box and put it back. He went into the living room, and out of habit he switched on the television. Superman was on the screen, flying over the city in his suit and cape. Mouse watched for a moment and then turned off the television. Superman might be faster than a speeding bullet and able to leap tall buildings with a single bound, Mouse thought, but even Superman couldn’t keep himself from being tuned down to a small white dot.
    Mouse got his jacket from the chair by the door. Even though he knew it was going to be warm outside, he put on his jacket and zipped it up. Then he left the apartment.
    The street and the sidewalks were crowded. Some girls were roller skating, and it was the first time Mouse had seen that this year. Usually he and Ezzie liked to sit on the steps and watch the girls, calling out things like, “Way to go, Rose,” when she slipped. This would have been a good time to sit and yell comments of this nature because the girls had lost their talent for skating over the winter.
    “Help me,” the biggest girl was yelling. “Don’t let me fall.” While she was screaming, the two smaller girls, sisters in matching sweaters, began to lose their balance. “Help me,” the big girl cried. The two sisters were now on their knees, still holding the big girl up. “Help!” the big girl cried and then she too went down on the sidewalk.
    “Way to go, Louise!” Ezzie would have cried in delight. He would have nudged Mouse as the girls struggled to their feet, anticipating more fun. “Get this, Mouse. Keep your eye on Louise. She’s the one to watch.”
    Mouse passed them without comment. Louise was still sitting on the sidewalk saying, “I think I broke something. No fooling, I think I broke something.”
    Mouse kept walking down the crowded sidewalk. He knew a lot of these people, but nobody seemed to be speaking to him today. It was as if everybody in the world knew what he was going to do, and everybody knew that if they gave him any sympathy at all, if they even patted his shoulder or took his hand, he would not be able to do