Free The Planet of Junior Brown by Virginia Hamilton Page A

couldn’t go to school until he was safe being on his own. Because until he could get by, he would be nervous. He’d want to go home with the first teacher who was nice to him. Nightman might blurt out the fact that he didn’t have a home. He might tell some kid that he had to sleep in a broken-down building. No, Nightman had to get behind living for himself; and when he could do that, he would have no trouble in school or anywhere else.
    â€œHow long do you say I have to travel with him?” Franklin asked Buddy.
    â€œJust a couple of days. He should know enough by that time.”
    â€œBecause I got to go to school,” Franklin said. “When I’m out, they start checking up.”
    â€œWhere do you go?” Buddy asked him.
    â€œDown on 81st and Amsterdam,” Franklin told him. “I’m doing good, too, and I don’t want to miss no school!” He spoke flatly, angry that he had to have Nightman tagging after him.
    Buddy looked out on the mountain of debris in front of him with cold, solemn eyes. He’d had a feeling about Franklin from the time he’d lit the candle and had begun questioning the boy. Now all his knowledge of the street and its people came together in certainty.
    Without turning his head or moving the trunk of his body, Buddy reached out, grabbing Franklin by the throat. The movement was so swift and casual, Franklin was pinned down across Buddy’s lap before he knew what had happened. His throat ached from the pressure on it as Buddy searched his pockets, inside his shirt and down in his socks. What Buddy found, he flipped onto the table. When he had a pile, he let Franklin sit up. Buddy held Franklin tightly in a hammer lock and forced him to face the table.
    There were two expensive gas lighters, both gold-plated. There was a jeweled wristwatch and two diamond rings. There was an onyx-handled knife with the price tag still on it and a black leather wallet.
    Buddy reached over to check out the wallet. It was full of money, about seventy-five dollars’ worth, and credit cards. There was a receipt for a rent-a-car.
    â€œYou ain’t nothing but a thief,” Buddy said, “a wet- bottomed little hustler.” He shoved Franklin against the wall and got up with the wallet in his hand. “There never was a school at 81st and Amsterdam!” Buddy added. Unlocking the cabinet, Buddy searched for and finally found a torn piece of paper and a pencil. From the cards in the wallet, he wrote down its owner’s address on the paper. He had no envelope and no stamps so he would have to wait until later to mail the stuff to the guy.
    Buddy counted the money again, then took twenty-five dollars of it. He put back the remainder of the money, placed the pencil and paper in the wallet’s fold and stuffed the wallet inside his jacket.
    Buddy’s mind went quiet. He had caught the slightest sound and he was moving toward the rope ladder before he had turned himself around to face it. He caught Franklin before the kid had started up the ladder.
    â€œYou didn’t think you were going to make it!” Buddy said. “You know you can’t get out of that window fast enough.”
    Buddy lifted Franklin away from the ladder and hit him hard across the face. Franklin shuddered. The slap had jarred him to his toes but he made no sound. Slowly he walked back to the basement wall and sat down beside Nightman.
    Nightman sat with his mouth open. The look on his face was one of dread. Buddy hated seeing the fear in Nightman’s eyes. Now Nightman knew how trapped he was. He knew that if Buddy wanted to hurt him, there was nothing he could do to stop him. But without panicking, Nightman sat where he was, for he had discovered that his life depended on Buddy. He had learned how dangerous it was to be small and weak.
    Buddy placed two tens and a five-dollar bill on the table. He picked up the five and gave it to Franklin. “For