“There’s a bunch of guys followin’ us,” said Chuck Danko, “black guys.”
Three other boys, including Roy, all of whom were thirteen or fourteen years old, turned and looked behind them as they walked.
“They’re pretty big,” Jimmy Boyle said. “Older than us.”
Roy and his friends were walking on Lake Street in The Loop on a freezing cold and windy late Saturday afternoon in February. They had just come from seeing the movie Giant at the State & Lake theater.
“If they start somethin’,” said Richie Gates, “we should split in four different directions.”
“No,” Jimmy said, “if they get one of us then the rest of us can help him. There’s six of them.”
One of the black kids ran up and shoved Richie.
“Where you goin’, punk?” he said.
Richie turned around and shoved him back. The kid was three or four inches taller than Richie. The other black guys walked up and stared hard at Roy’s back. Everybody stood still.
“Y’all in a hurry?” said the kid who’d shoved Richie.
“How much money you got?” another kid said. “Prob’ly all you boys got your allowances, huh? How much allowances you get?”
“Chester!” said Roy. “How are you, man?”
The tallest and most muscular-looking one of the black kids looked at Roy, then smiled and said, “Hey, Roy, what you up to?”
Roy and Chester both came forward and shook hands.
“Just saw Giant, the new James Dean movie.”
“Any good?”
“Yeah, long, though. James Dean looks kind of funny made up as an old guy.”
“He was killed in a car wreck, wasn’t he?” asked Chester.
“Yes, drivin’ a racing Porsche on a highway in California. Farmer in a pick-up truck named Donald Gene Turnupseed ran into him from a side road.”
“You know this kid, Chester?” said the boy who’d asked about allowances.
“We played ball together last summer,” Chester said.
“Chicago Park District All-Stars,” said Roy. “Chester was the catcher, I played third.”
“How old are you now, Roy?”
“Fourteen.”
“Roy was the youngest player on the team. He can hit.”
“You gonna play again this year?” Roy asked.
Chester shook his head. “Too old, I’m seventeen now. Playin’ football, basketball and baseball for Lost Sons of Egypt.”
“You’re a great catcher, Chester, and a real power hitter.”
“A coach from Notre Dame come to see me play football, says I can be a good linebacker, maybe make All-American.”
Roy’s friends huddled behind him and Chester’s boys backed off.
“You guys just hangin’ out?” said Roy.
“Omar here only messin’ with your friend. Nobody be botherin’ you.”
“Great to see you, Chester.”
They shook hands again.
“Let’s get goin’ fellas,” Chester said. He and his bunch turned and walked away. Omar lingered for a few seconds and sneered at Richie before joining Chester and the others.
“Wow, good thing you recognized that guy, Roy,” said Jimmy Boyle.
The wind began blowing harder, twisting its way around corners of the downtown buildings.
“Yeah,” Chuck Danko said, “but even more amazing is that you know the name of the driver who killed James Dean.”