BUSINESS WAS SLOW at Ben Franklin. The man with the sad eyes sat behind the cash register with his elbows on the candy counter, talking on the phone with his wife about bills. Patrick pushed open the front door. The bell tinkled. The man hung up the phone and looked at Patrick.
Across the street, Jimmy ran up the spiral staircase to his lookout atop the hobby shop parking garage. It was Jimmy’s job to whistle in case of trouble. He put a red-hot jawbreaker in his mouth and sucked on it. The red-hot chemicals coated the crevices around his missing tooth. It burned the lining of his mouth. He looked down on Main Street. He could see the bank, the corner Rexall, and the Ben Franklin. A black dog trotted across the street with his tongue hanging out.
John and Kurt ran down the alley between Velvet Freeze and the dry cleaners. They found the back screen door to Ben Franklin unlocked as usual.
“How are you today?” the man asked Patrick.
“Fine.”
“School starting soon?”
Patrick nodded and acted like he was studying candy bars. Kurt and John sneaked in the back door. They eased around the corner past the Cut-Your-Own curtains section. They could see Patrick up front by the candy counter and the Ben Franklin man talking to him. Patrick pretended to listen.
“Yeah, back to school,” the Ben Franklin man said, “You probably don’t want to go.” He opened a fresh box of Payday candy bars. And then with a mixture of nostalgia and disgust he said, “Summer, summer, summer … It can’t last forever. Nothing to do … idle time. Besides, these are your formative years. Everything you do is like a building block. That’s why school is so important.”
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded, staring at a row of Milky Ways.
Across the street Jimmy saw the front door of the bank swing open. A man in black wearing an old fashioned straw hat stepped out.
It was Monsignor O’Day.
He was headed for the Ben Franklin. Jimmy spit out his jawbreaker and put his thumb and finger in his mouth to whistle. But his saliva was too red hot and ropey. Spit splattered all over his fingers, but no whistle sound would come.
John and Kurt crawled on their bellies into the tin Jell-O mold aisle. The Ben Franklin man lectured Patrick.
“My nephew goes to that Catholic school, Mary Queen of Our Hearts. We … my wife and I, never had kids. But I spend a lot of time with my nephew. I got him some Lincoln Logs. Now that’s a good toy. Lincoln read a lot of books when he was your age. He’ll be starting scouts this fall, my nephew. You Catholic?”
Patrick looked up at him.
Kurt pushed over the tin Jell-O mold display. An avalanche of heart-shaped, bird-shaped, angel-shaped Jell-O-ware clattered to the floor.
The Ben Franklin man ran to the back of his store. Patrick leaned over the counter and pressed NO SALE.
Jimmy kept trying to whistle as Monsignor O’Day strode down the sidewalk toward Ben Franklin.
Kurt and John ran out the back door.
Patrick reached into the drawer. He felt something. It was beads in the half-dollar compartment—rosary beads. The phone behind the counter rang. Patrick looked down the aisle. The Ben Franklin man would be coming to get the phone. Patrick picked it up.
“Ben Franklin,” Patrick whispered.
The voice on the other end spoke. “This is Ebby Hamilton again on that yellow fabric I need for the Monday Club. My mom said to call and check.”
Monsignor O’Day stopped in front of Ben Franklin. He turned around to see who was calling him. It was the banker with the silver toupee leaning out of the front door of the bank. Monsignor had been doing card tricks for all the lady tellers.
“Monsignor, you forgot your cards,” the banker yelled. Monsignor patted his shirt pocket where the cards belonged, then shook his head at his forgetfulness. He turned around and headed for the bank.
Jimmy unzipped his pants to pee on the overhead parking lot wall. The pressure had gotten to him. He watched Monsignor walk back to the bank, and, losing track of his aim, peed on his shoe.
“Your yellow fabric for the Monday Club?” Patrick said.
“Who is this?” Ebby asked. “Is this Patrick?” The melody of her voice saying his name made him feel the new thing. He felt ashamed of the robbery and the train hopping and throwing tomatoes at buses.
The Ben Franklin man was stumbling over Jell-O-ware. Patrick had to get off the phone.
“Ebby, I’m sorry, I have to go. We’re real busy here.” He hung up. He looked at the cash drawer, beyond the rosary beads, to the rows of green currency. He was tempted to give up crime, to go clean. But he remembered Kurt teasing him and how much the drum set and the band meant to John. He grabbed the cash, shut the drawer, and ran out the front door.