Free Eggplant Alley (9781593731410) by D. Cataneo Page A

dead.”
    Now Dad wobbled out of the kitchen to the embrace of his living room chair. Nicky followed and plopped onto the sofa. His legs ached as if he had walked twenty miles. There was still the matter of Checkers at the door, and Dad would do his duty and deal with that. But first he had to pull himself together. Dad’s hands were still shaking.
    It was an hour before Dad said, “I’ll take care of the dog.” He lifted himself out of the chair. “I wish there was some way to call Roy in Vietnam, just to make sure that this wasn’t one of them premonitions or anything.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as premonitions,” Nicky said scientifically, glumly.
    â€œSmart guy, huh?” Dad grunted. “Poor Checkers. I’ll bet it was from eating that Blue Castle hamburger.”
    Nicky didn’t want to know Dad’s plans for Checkers. What can you do with a dead dog in the Bronx? They didn’t even own a shovel.
    Dad passed through the living room carrying an old sheet, the one traditionally spread under the Christmas tree. Nicky heard Dad grunt and swear, the jangle of Checkers’s dog license, the door open, and the door slam shut.
    â€œNo more dogs,” Mom said from the kitchen. “They just die.”

    Nicky sat on the gritty front steps of Eggplant Alley and watched the sun sink behind the aspirin factory. He shook his head at the memory of the morning, when he tingled with the sureness that something good was on its way, like a special delivery package.
    â€œAnd what happens?” Nicky muttered. “What happens? I get the crap scared out of me. And Checkers kicks the bucket. And now Dad is out there, tossing my dog in some dump.”
    He flung a bottle cap off the steps.
    â€œI am a numbskull, for ever tingling about anything.”
    And the thought would never occur to him: If Checkers had not died that morning, Nicky would not be seated, at that very moment, on the front steps. And he would have missed, forever and ever, what happened next.

Lester Allnuts
12
    N icky sat on the front steps in the dusk, hunched over, lost in his own little miserable world. He was not alert. He was tuned out, thinking, thinking, thinking. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until the feet were very close. A shoe clicked sharply on concrete nearby and Nicky jumped. He turned quickly and stared up at the thick glasses and evil scowl of the Creature from the Second Floor.
    The Creature from the Second Floor was actually a young boy, about Nicky’s age and not quite Nicky’s height. Which meant the Creature was pretty short. He had wiry, rust-colored hair. His glasses were in fact thick. The Creature had an odd, full mouth. Maybe he would need braces. But the scowl wasn’t all that evil and maybe not a scowl at all. It might have passed for a nervous grimace.
    â€œDo you live here?” the Creature said, in a flat accent that came from somewhere far beyond the borders of the Bronx.
    â€œWho wants to know?” Nicky said.
    â€œMe. I live here,” the Creature said. “My name is Lester Allnuts.”
    Nicky snorted.
    Lester Allnuts frowned at the ground and said, “That’s what everybody does when I tell them that.”
    â€œOh,” Nicky said. He had too much practice at “good-bye,” not enough practice at “hello.”
    â€œI’m Nick Martini.”
    Lester said nothing.
    â€œLike the drink.”
    Lester said nothing.
    â€œI live on the fifth floor.”
    Lester said nothing. He didn’t move. Nicky thought, “What does this kid want, an engraved invitation?”
    Nicky said, “Sit down, if you want.”
    Lester examined the step and took a seat next to Nicky. He said he was from a small town upstate. He told Nicky the name of the town, and Nicky immediately forgot it. Something-ville. Nicky heard “upstate” and imagined cows in the road, men wearing straw hats and