longer.
Pietro looked up at him. “But you my friend.”
“Um … yeah, I am. No doubt about it.” Giuseppe looked around for someone to pass Pietro off to, but there was no one in the room he trusted. He sighed. “Let’s go, then.”
They went up another flight of creaking stairs to the floor whereGiuseppe normally slept. He scanned the piles of mildewed straw and threadbare blankets, spotting Ferro near a window. In the summertime, it was best to sleep under the windows, with a cool draft flowing over you on sweltering nights. In the wintertime the best place was in the middle of the room, with lots of bodies around you to keep you warm. Ferro was strong enough to get the best spot any time of year. Giuseppe and Pietro stepped around and over the other boys by the light coming in through the window until they reached him.
Alfeo was lying next to Ferro, his hands behind his head. “I see you brought your pet.” He and Ferro laughed.
“Shut up, Alfeo,” Giuseppe said. “He’s fine. He’s just new is all.”
“Well, tonight we only saved enough room for you.”
Which Giuseppe saw was true. He and Pietro could not both fit there next to them. Giuseppe looked the room over and noticed an open space in a corner on the far side. He pointed toward it. “Why don’t you go over there, Pietro?”
The little boy looked like he was about to cry. It seemed like he was always about to cry.
Giuseppe raised his voice. “Just go. You’ll be fine, kid.” He shooed him off as he would a stray cat.
Pietro turned away without a word, and Giuseppe plopped down on the floor. Alfeo started to tell him about a brawl he had seen between a tinker and a shopkeeper that day. Giuseppe listened, but he followed Pietro with his eyes until the little boy disappeared into the shadows.
“How much you make today?” Ferro asked after Alfeo finished his story.
Giuseppe rolled onto his back. “Not much.”
Stephano’s voice came thundering up the stairs. “Sleep now, my filthy monkeys! No more talking!”
Ferro lowered his voice to a whisper. “You gave that kid your money again?”
Giuseppe nodded.
“You’re too soft, Giu,” Alfeo said. “Trust me. You think you’re just feeding a puppy, but it could still turn around and bite you.”
Stephano roared. “Silence!”
Over the next week Giuseppe’s treasure grew. Every day he counted and daydreamed and every night felt closer to home. That maid had never been back to the churchyard as far as he knew, and his money was safe. He had thirty-two dollars in there now. By next week he would have enough, and it would be time to pay a visit to Frederick and see about his help in purchasing the ticket.
He was in high spirits today and whistled as he ambled through the streets, looking for a good corner to play. It was all about timing, really, and a familiarity with the city’s habits. It was about knowing when certain people would be in certain places, like the factory workers at lunchtime, or the rich folk on a Saturday night at the opera. The throbbing city woke and slept in parts, like blood pounding to the muscles in heavy use.
Giuseppe knew that right now most of the fishermen, their purses full, having sold their day’s catch that morning, had set a course for the Albatross Tavern near the wharves. So he headed that way. He knew some bawdy ballads that could get those sailors jigging and dropping coins.
The gray sky hung low, as if the masts on the tall ships in the harbor could scrape its canopy. Giuseppe passed the docks and took a road that ran along the beach. His steps fell into a slow rhythm with the waves, and he caught the briny scent of seaweed drying in the sun.
Seagulls hovered and dove on the small crabs that scurried over the sand, and Giuseppe saw a small boy chasing the gulls as they touched down. The kid waved his arms, and the birds flapped away screeching. From a distance Giuseppe chuckled, but then he drew closer and got a better look at the
Pietro looked up at him. “But you my friend.”
“Um … yeah, I am. No doubt about it.” Giuseppe looked around for someone to pass Pietro off to, but there was no one in the room he trusted. He sighed. “Let’s go, then.”
They went up another flight of creaking stairs to the floor whereGiuseppe normally slept. He scanned the piles of mildewed straw and threadbare blankets, spotting Ferro near a window. In the summertime, it was best to sleep under the windows, with a cool draft flowing over you on sweltering nights. In the wintertime the best place was in the middle of the room, with lots of bodies around you to keep you warm. Ferro was strong enough to get the best spot any time of year. Giuseppe and Pietro stepped around and over the other boys by the light coming in through the window until they reached him.
Alfeo was lying next to Ferro, his hands behind his head. “I see you brought your pet.” He and Ferro laughed.
“Shut up, Alfeo,” Giuseppe said. “He’s fine. He’s just new is all.”
“Well, tonight we only saved enough room for you.”
Which Giuseppe saw was true. He and Pietro could not both fit there next to them. Giuseppe looked the room over and noticed an open space in a corner on the far side. He pointed toward it. “Why don’t you go over there, Pietro?”
The little boy looked like he was about to cry. It seemed like he was always about to cry.
Giuseppe raised his voice. “Just go. You’ll be fine, kid.” He shooed him off as he would a stray cat.
Pietro turned away without a word, and Giuseppe plopped down on the floor. Alfeo started to tell him about a brawl he had seen between a tinker and a shopkeeper that day. Giuseppe listened, but he followed Pietro with his eyes until the little boy disappeared into the shadows.
“How much you make today?” Ferro asked after Alfeo finished his story.
Giuseppe rolled onto his back. “Not much.”
Stephano’s voice came thundering up the stairs. “Sleep now, my filthy monkeys! No more talking!”
Ferro lowered his voice to a whisper. “You gave that kid your money again?”
Giuseppe nodded.
“You’re too soft, Giu,” Alfeo said. “Trust me. You think you’re just feeding a puppy, but it could still turn around and bite you.”
Stephano roared. “Silence!”
Over the next week Giuseppe’s treasure grew. Every day he counted and daydreamed and every night felt closer to home. That maid had never been back to the churchyard as far as he knew, and his money was safe. He had thirty-two dollars in there now. By next week he would have enough, and it would be time to pay a visit to Frederick and see about his help in purchasing the ticket.
He was in high spirits today and whistled as he ambled through the streets, looking for a good corner to play. It was all about timing, really, and a familiarity with the city’s habits. It was about knowing when certain people would be in certain places, like the factory workers at lunchtime, or the rich folk on a Saturday night at the opera. The throbbing city woke and slept in parts, like blood pounding to the muscles in heavy use.
Giuseppe knew that right now most of the fishermen, their purses full, having sold their day’s catch that morning, had set a course for the Albatross Tavern near the wharves. So he headed that way. He knew some bawdy ballads that could get those sailors jigging and dropping coins.
The gray sky hung low, as if the masts on the tall ships in the harbor could scrape its canopy. Giuseppe passed the docks and took a road that ran along the beach. His steps fell into a slow rhythm with the waves, and he caught the briny scent of seaweed drying in the sun.
Seagulls hovered and dove on the small crabs that scurried over the sand, and Giuseppe saw a small boy chasing the gulls as they touched down. The kid waved his arms, and the birds flapped away screeching. From a distance Giuseppe chuckled, but then he drew closer and got a better look at the
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