The Planet of Junior Brown by Virginia Hamilton Page B

glory!” he muttered. “It’s got to be up in the tracks.”
    Buddy told him, “You ought to let the master of sound tell you where the squeak is. Meaning Junior,” he added. He leaned to one side, peering around Junior until he could see Junior’s face. “Good morning to you,” Buddy said. “You have a nice weekend with your daddy? U-huh? You and your daddy eat in some big-time restaurant and see some two-dollar technicolor movie?”
    â€œCool it off now,” Mr. Pool said to Buddy. He had heard the anger in Buddy’s voice. It had surprised him, but when he thought about it, he supposed Buddy’s anger was there in almost everything Buddy did.
    â€œSo Junior’s father took him some place,” Mr. Pool said. “You don’t have a father to give you things—is that it?”
    Buddy let himself go loose. He collapsed on the floor, on his stomach, half in the light of the solar system. “No,” he said. He turned away from Junior and Mr. Pool to rest his head on his arms.
    He was tired. Why in the world did he have to say that to Junior! He only meant to let Junior know that he understood how Junior had to spend the weekend with his father. He was tired down to his bones. He had walked around a good part of the night again—that didn’t make this Monday any different from some other. But the night and this early morning was colder; he had to keep every muscle working to keep from freezing. Buddy knew he would have to steal a warmer jacket and he was tired of stealing.
    Way early this morning, old Doum Malach had given Buddy his pay. Thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents.
    Buddy grunted to himself. The grunt sounded like pain to Junior. Mr. Pool had heard it too. He came around the revolving planets to where Buddy lay half in darkness.
    Thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents, with some kids coming up to his planet next Friday from someplace down at the Brooklyn Bridge. He would have to find warm clothes for them to wear. He would have to get them cleaned up, and enough food, Jesus, all on thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents.
    Again Buddy grunted with the deep-down worry of it.
    â€œAre you all right, Buddy?” Mr. Pool stood over Buddy, wondering if the boy maybe was going to be sick.
    Suddenly Buddy felt strange, like he was coming down with something.
    All I need is to catch me a sneaking pneumonia.
    â€œYou want to set yourself down?” Junior spoke. Since he had entered the room, Junior hadn’t said a word. He had wished for so long to be able to say things to his daddy, but he never had his daddy to talk to. It was only Buddy he could tell things to. Buddy had to be the one. “You want to sit down here?”
    Junior pulled his chair over closer to Buddy. Buddy looked around and then got to his feet.
    â€œNaw, man,” he said to Junior. “You sit on down like you were. I’m just getting myself warm.”
    â€œWell, how you feeling then?” Junior asked him.
    â€œI’m feeling fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” Buddy told him. “I meant it serious though,” Buddy said, “when I ask you did you have a good time this weekend—did you?”
    Junior stood there with his hands folded in front of him. His legs were slightly bent, as though they weren’t quite strong enough to hold his bulk. He shook his head. “It wasn’t much of a time,” he said.
    Mr. Pool retreated to the far side of the solar system to let the boys talk. As the planets spun by him, he touched them with the very tips of his fingers and waited.
    â€œWhy wasn’t it much of a time?” Buddy was asking Junior.
    â€œIt just wasn’t,” Junior said. He sat down in the folding chair once again. Buddy moved closer to hear. “He never did come home,” Junior said.
    â€œAw, man,” Buddy said, “I was up there too. When you didn’t come down, I thought