Roger was 11 and in sixth grade, and he carried books. Izzy stood in the middle of the sidewalk and craned his neck in both directions. Barton and his band of bullies were nowhere to be seen. This vision, however, failed to materialize. “Here’s your dime.” The magical little coin would change hands and Barton Bigelow would be vanquished. He imagined the bullies swooping down on him soon, meaning to fill his heart with dread. The dime in his pocket filled Izzy with new-minted confidence as he trod the path from his house to Horace Greeley Elementary School. By the time Mom returned, Izzy was sitting on the chair, snowsuited and pulling on his boots. Quick as a wink, Izzy snatched a dime from the little red coin purse inside. His mother had left the kitchen to retune the radio for Stella Dallas, but her purse sat open on the counter. However, just when he was about to head back to school, opportunity suddenly struck. Having solved that problem, she returned to her magazine, while Izzy’s heart sank. Just tell them you’re not giving them any money.” She nodded her head righteously. “Bullies,” she declared, “that’s what they are! Stand up to them, Izzy. “Barton Bigelow and his friends,” he said. “Which kids are going to beat you up?” she asked. This gave Izzy hope, for she was not a woman to be taken lightly. His mother’s face veered abruptly from fair and sunny to impending thunderstorm. He opened his eyes wide, took a deep breath, and let her have it: “Because these kids are going to beat me up if I don’t give them a dime!” The corners of her eyes crinkled, as they always did when she found something hilarious. “I said, ‘Can I have a dime?’” He looked up at her and held his breath. She knit her brows while Willie told Evey that he had given Cousin Sylvester the $2,000 to purchase the stock - whatever that means, thought Izzy. Izzy toyed with his egg and toast, knowing that it would take her a few moments to get back from wherever she had gone. She raised her head from the Ladies’ Home Journal, and a faraway look came over her. For his part, it was all he could do to worry about the bullies who wanted to extort from him money that he did not even have yet. Izzy marveled that his mother could follow all this drama effortlessly while simultaneously reading her magazine - but her powers amazed him daily. Then the announcer turned things over to Ma and Shuffle and the folks at the Perkins Lumberyard, who worried that Cousins Eddie and Sylvester were about to swindle Evey and Willie out of their life savings. She watched and hovered for a few moments, then sat down beside him, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette while she read Ladies’ Home Journal and listened to Ma Perkins, a soap opera that drifted through the doorway from the wood-bodied Philco radio in the living room.Ī confident male voice announced that women across the country were getting washes so wonderfully clean and white they could hardly believe it, with deep-cleaning Oxydol! His tall, blond mother made a soft-boiled egg, diced it on a piece of toast, and placed it and a glass of milk in front of him. When Izzy got home, he removed his hat, muffler, mittens, galoshes, and snowsuit, leaving them on a chair by the kitchen door. Izzy pulled Mary Lou by the hand, and the four bullies laughed as he tugged her away. But next time you see us, you’d better have a dime for us, or we’ll beat you up.”īarton Bigelow and his buddies relaxed their stances just a bit. “Cash? I don’t have cash,” whined Izzy, while tears flowed down Mary Lou’s soft, round cheeks.
“How much cash do you have, kid?” Barton asked. “Well,” said Barton Bigelow, “this is our sidewalk, see? And you owe us rent.” All he could do in this crisis was blubber tearfully: “But - but, we always walk home this way!” Izzy had been born without an ounce of combat or contention in him. She walked with Izzy twice a day, never to school, only home from school, at lunchtime and again at the end of the day. This is terrible, thought Izzy, and Mary Lou did not help things by starting to whimper.