and released his grandmother's hand. "I love you, Mums. Bye."
"I love you too, Billy. You are a good boy, sweetheart. Remember that."
The doors closed. The street car moved away. Mums turned to walk back to her house. Her eyes were filled with tears. Her heart was sad. Billy wanted to be a good boy.
CHAPTER SIX
Lyon Avenue was nearly level in front of the Blair's house, but from there it began an ever-increasing downward slope becoming quite steep in its final plunge to meet High Street. Billy piled the gunnysacks in the bottom of his wagon, making a place to rest his left knee. Then, pushing with his right foot and steering the wagon with his left hand, he started down the street. As his speed increased he sat in the wagon, riding it down the hill to the top of the steep descent to High Street. There he stuck out his right foot, and by dragging his toe he brought the wagon to a stop and got out. From there to the bottom of Lyon Avenue he held the handle and let the wagon lead the way down the hill. At the bottom and on High Street, he pedaled the wagon to the High Street Market on the corner of Congress Avenue.
"Wat’cha you step, Billy," cautioned Mr. Prezzolinni. "I no finish yet."
Billy stepped carefully across the smooth finished concrete floor made slippery by its covering of discarded lettuce leaves, and trimmings from the early morning delivery of fresh produce. It was Monday, the day nearby stores on High Street threw out their spoiled produce and restocked with fresh vegetables and fruits.
"You come-a early today, eh, Piazanno." Mr. Prezzolinni stripped the outer leaves from a head of lettuce, let them fall to the pile at his feet, and then tossed the head into the partially filled crate of trimmed lettuce heads ready for the stacking on the display racks.
"Yeah. I'm going to the show tonight with my Dad."
"That's-a...nice, but you no say, 'yeah.' You say,'Yes, Mr. Prezzolinni.'''
"Yes, Mr. Prezzolinni."
"That's-a better. I got lots'a nice greens for ya chickens." He stripped away the outer leaves of another head, continuing," and I put da spoiled stuff in that there crate for ya." He gestured to where the crate of discarded lettuce heads and spoiled vegetables sat.
"Gee, that's good. I won't have to go to Safeway, too." One of Billy's weekly chores was to take his wagon to the local markets to collect greens for the chickens. Usually it took stops at both the High Street Market and the Safeway, three blocks further east at the corner of High Street and Brookdale, to get a wagon full. Today, he'd save the trip to Safeway and the time he needed to meet his Dad.
"I'll pull my wagon up here." Billy returned with the wagon, stopping on the dock outside the produce preparation area. There he turned around, pushing the wagon by its handle while imitating the noise of a make-believe truck backing into a spot against the wall out of the way of Mr. Prezzolinni.
"You gon’na be a truck driver, Billy. A good truck driver." He put his hand on top of Billy's head giving him an affectionate rub.
."Maybe I can drive one of Mr. Caravacci's garbage trucks." Billy responded, proud of Mr. Prezzolinni's praise. The Caravacci family lived across the street from the Blair’s and owned the Caravacci Garbage Company which serviced the local markets. It was through Mr. Caravacci that Mrs. Blair had made the arrangements for the two local stores to set aside their fresh produce trimmings and spoiled produce for Billy to pick up.
"You no wan’na be garbageman. You got’ta be Italiano to be garbageman. You-a-be doctor or lawyer. You-a make-a-da big money." The sternness of Mr. Prezzolinni's voice and the rejection of Billy's suggestion altered his mood.
He removed a gunnysack from the wagon and began filling it with the lettuce leaves Mr. Prezzolinni had pushed into a pile. The leaves were cool and damp. They felt good, and the scent of the fresh vegetables and fruit was pleasing to Billy's senses. He liked this part of the chore. He remained silent as he went about filling the gunnysacks with the trimmings Mr. Prezzolinni was now tossing in his direction. When the sack became full Billy leaned it against the wall, stood on a crate and stepped into the sack, crushing the leaves to make room for more. Mr. Prezzolinni tossed the last head of lettuce into the crate waiting to be carried inside the store. "Terminado." announced Mr. Prezzolinni, wiping his hands on the long green apron covering his front. He pointed toward the wooden crate heaped with discarded fruits and vegetables of the previous week, "You no forget-a tat." Then he bent down, picked up the crate of of new fresh lettuce heads and disappeared into the store.
Billy eyed the crate of discarded produce, and the swarm of gnats feeding on the spoiling vegetables. He bent over, partially raised the crate and judged it to be too heavy and too large for his small wagon. He rejected the pungent stench of the rotting produce. Mentally he rebelled against the swarming gnats which he knew would infiltrate his ears and find their way into his mouth. He considered leaving the crate of spoiled produce behind as he had done once before. On that occasion Mr. Prezzolinni had scolded him profusely on his return trip, explaining that if Billy wanted the fresh trimmings he was obligated to take the spoiled produce as well. "You no take-a da bad, you no-a-get do bueno." Billy recalled the words. All the gunnysacks were full. Billy carried them to where he had parked the wagon and tied their tops closed with pieces of twine he found lying on the floor. He then entered the store to determine the whereabouts of Mr. Prezzolinni and, if the situation was to his advantage, to take a candy bar.
Mr. Prezzolinni was holding the crate between himself and the vegetable display bin where he was stacking the lettuce, totally involved in his work. Billy moved quickly behind the first aisle separating himself from the man, a friend who Billy now saw as his adversary. The candy section was straight ahead on the opposite side of the aisle. The aisle was empty of shoppers. Billy moved silently, looking ahead for the exact location of the Mr. Big Bars, his favorite choice. The checkout counter at the end of the aisle was empty. Everything was working to Billy's advantage. He reached for a Mr. Big Bar.
"I'll buy that for you, Billy." The unexpected voice coming from behind him shot a bolt of fear through his body. He jerked erect, dropped the candy bar, instinctively picked it up and returned it to the bin. Slowly, he turned to face the female voice. It was his Aunt Rae.
"Hello, Billy. I thought that was you. I didn't scare you did I? You certainly jumped. What are you doing here?" She bent down, kissing him on the cheek.
"Uh, getting greens for the chickens." He blurted out the words. Had she suspected anything? He waited for her next move. She reached into the bin and selected a Mr. Big Bar.
"Is this the kind of candy you like?" Billy nodded his head and muttered, "Yes, ma'am."
"Well, come along." A checker had arrived at the empty counter. "I'll pay for this and you can get on with collecting your greens." Billy followed her to the check stand where the candy bar was paid for and handed to him.
"Does Mrs. Blair make you come after greens for the chickens?" She continued, "You are too small to be made to .....
" Billy interrupted. "It's okay. Anyway, I like doing it." He shot a glance to where Mr. Prezzolinni was standing, hoping he had not heard her comment. Mr. Prezzolinni often praised Billy for coming after the greens, telling him it was a man's job, and Billy didn't want him thinking it was something he had to do or that it was a chore. Mr. Prezzolinni continued to stack the lettuce heads giving no indication that he heard either comment.
His Aunt Rae, sensing the aborted embarrassment, remarked, "Well, I am sure it is hard work." Remembering that Billy's father was to visit his three children this afternoon and take Beth and Billy to the show, she said, "Your Dad
