It’s a balmy day, just the right kind for watching the boats on the canal

and eating ice-cream cones (they didn’t used to have ice-cream cones a few
years back—can you believe it? I can’t hardly believe it and I was there—!)
and I’d like to enjoy the weather but I can’t forget that Frances is in bed with
a fever and a cough, and Mother says it’s awful grave, so I thought I ought to
take my money to the pharmacist so I can get her some medicines. And I
can’t afford the time off, besides; I got to sell papers. The family’s short on
money now since Frances can’t work in the factory like she did before she
caught the influenza. Been out selling since half past four in the morning like
I do most days. Actually I came out a little late today for eavesdropping. I
couldn’t help it—I need to know about Frances.

In the afternoon I’ll find some other boys and see if I can make a bit of
extra money shooting craps.

We’re all out of breath as we turn the corner onto the empty street and
the slapping of our feet slows to a stop. Lewis almost falls over. He says it
didn’t have to be a race. He hasn’t got shoes on. Willie laughs. He says
what’s the fun in that? Besides, the winner gets to shoot. That’s me—I’m the
winner. I put down twenty-five cents for pass, so everyone else bets a nickel
on crap. I grab the dice in one hand, cross my fingers with the other, and
whisper a prayer for good luck.
The dice bounce off the dingy brick wall and we all hold our breaths as
they skip on the pavement until they land. Two and three. That makes five,
so I roll again. Four. Six. Ten. I toss the dice at the wall a fifth time and I
watch them clatter to the ground. The first, a four, falls right next to my feet,
the other nearly tumbles into the street—I see it stop just short—one! I win, I
win—
Willie snatches the die before I can announce the roll and take my
winnings. The other boys crowd around him.
“What was the roll?” asks Thomas.
“Three,” says Willie, smiling like it isn’t a lie. The boys turn to each
other and laugh before turning to me. Their grins make me sick to my
stomach. I glance at the ground for a moment before snapping my head
back up with a scowl. For Frances, I tell myself sharply, I need the money for
Frances, sick Frances, Frances in bed with the fever and the cough…
“The die rolled one,” I say, shakier than I want to be. I raise my voice
to cover it. “The sum was five. I saw it!”
Willie tenses before he can catch himself. I swallow, or try—my mouth
is dry.
“Come on, John, no one likes a sore loser,” says Thomas. Willie relaxes.
The others nod. “And you know your sums, do you? You don’t even go to
school!”
Lewis mumbles and shifts uncomfortably.
 “You saw it, didn’t you, Lewis?”
“It was a one,” he says quickly, almost too quiet to hear. I open my
mouth but before I can say anything Willie’s breath is inches from Lewis’s
face. Willie pulls his arm back but it’s my fist that makes contact with soft
flesh and hard bone and it’s Willie whose head reels, and he falls, he falls on
his bottom where he stood a second before.
I bite my lip, concerned.
Willie stands up slowly and smiles.
He yells something that I don’t understand because suddenly I’m on
the ground, and he’s on top of me, and Thomas is on top of me, and Joseph,
and Frank, and they’re all yelling and the ringing blends with the heady
pounding of whup after wallop into a throbbing ache that drowns out
everything else. All I see, hear, feel is Willie’s fists, vicious, pummeling me,
the pain keeping me present even though my eyes swim. My face is wet and
I can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears or blood or all three.
I barely register their victorious cackles as they run away with my
money. I try to sit up but it hurts so I lean myself against the wall. Lewis is
gone too.

I wipe the blood off my nose but there’s not much I can do about the
bruises. I’ll have to explain them to Mother. I’m no good at that. She won’t
like it a bit. I can’t worry myself over it, though, ‘cause if I still want to get
Frances’s medicine like I set out to, I’ve got to sell more papers. The day’s
been too long already but I tell myself not to think of that either. It’s only
three and I can sell till late tonight. For Frances.

I sell until after ten P.M. but not much longer because I know I got to
get home to Mother and Frances soon as I can. So I give the last man his
paper and take off with the coins to the pharmacist as fast as my legs will go.
I have a dollar. I ask the pharmacist for the best thing he has to cure the
influenza. He gives me a jar of nightshade and a bottle of something else
without saying nothing. He only takes half the money, but he looks at me so
sad that I let him. I thank him and head home. Something still hurts but I
don’t mind it, because I’m flying—like an angel flying home with medicines
for Frances.

When I step through her door I see her in bed, sleeping. Mother is
kneeling by the bed like she does but I can’t see her face and she doesn’t
turn around to greet me. Father is talking to a man I don’t know. It’s too
quiet.

Frances isn’t sleeping and she won’t wake up.

My face is wet again but this time I know it’s tears.