Nobody's Fool by Richard Russo Page A

eighth-graders.
    â€œWho?” Miss Beryl said. Sully had few visitors, and Miss Beryl knew most of them by sight, if not by name.
    â€œThe guy who
lives
up there,” said the young woman with undisguised irritation.
    â€œHe’s not in,” Miss Beryi said.
    â€œGood,” said the young woman. “Something was bound to go right today if I waited long enough.”
    Miss Beryl paid no attention to this. She was looking at the child, who stood motionless at her mother’s side, staring at Miss Beryl. Or she would have been staring, if something hadn’t been wrong with one of her eyes, which looked off at a tragic angle, at nothing at all. Miss Beryl felt her heart quake but was only able to say, “This child should be wearing a coat. She’s shivering.”
    â€œYeah, well, I told her to stay in the car,” the young woman said, “so whose fault is it?”
    â€œYours,” Miss Beryl said without hesitation.
    â€œRight, mine,” the young woman said, as if she’d heard this before. “Listen. Do me a megafavor and mind your own business, okay?”
    The sheer outrageousness of this suggestion left Miss Beryl momentarily speechless. She hadn’t been sassed since she retired from teaching, and she’d forgotten what she used to do about it. The moment of stunned silence was apparently enough for the young woman to reconsider her tactics.
    â€œlisten,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Don’t mind me, okay? Everything is mega-screwed up right now. I don’t usually yell at old ladies.”
    Just children, Miss Beryl almost said, but held her tongue. That was how she’d always handled sassing, she remembered. She’d said nothing and glared at the miscreant until it dawned on him or her that a serious mistake had been made and that Miss Beryl hadn’t been the one who’d made it.
    â€œIt’s just Birdbrain here,” she explained. “I’d like to give her to you for about an hour, just for laughs.”
    They were both studying the silent child now. The little girl, for her part, might as well have been standing all alone in the hallway for all the sense she conveyed of being in the proximity of other human beings.
    â€œHello, sweetheart,” Miss Beryl said, and hoped that she wasn’t glowering at the child as she had been at her mother. She’d more than once been accused of frightening small children, though no one had ever explained to her precisely what she was doing to frighten them.
    â€œThat’s a good idea,” the young woman said. “Make friends with this nice old lady while Mommy makes a phone call.” Then, to Miss Beryl, “He got a phone up there?”
    â€œUse mine,” Miss Beryl said, still not sure she should be allowing the young woman into her tenant’s flat. Not that Sully probably would haveminded or had any cause to object, since he never locked up when he left.
    â€œSuit yourself,” the young woman said, slipping her shoes off. “I wasn’t planning on stealing anything. Take your shoes off, Birdbrain. We’re going in here for a minute, I guess.”
    The child was wearing cheap blue canvas tennis shoes, and Miss Beryl could tell that they were wet, as were the child’s socks.
    â€œDon’t touch nothing in here,” the young woman warned the child. “These aren’t our things, and Mommy doesn’t have money to pay for what you bust.”
    Miss Beryl showed the young woman where the telephone was in the front room. The young woman picked up the receiver and looked at Miss Beryl. “Thanks,” she said. “Been awhile since I’ve seen one of these,” she added in reference to its rotary dial. In fact, the phone did go back about thirty years. “Regular museum you got in here,” she said, looking around the room.
    Before Miss Beryl could respond to this observation, the young woman was