The Dinner Party

by Mona Gardner

The country is India. A colonial official and his wife are giving a large dinner party. They are
seated with their guests—army officers and government attachés and their wives, and a visiting
American naturalist—in their spacious dining room, which has a bare marble floor, open rafters
*
and wide glass doors opening onto a veranda.
A spirited discussion springs up between a young girl who insists that women have outgrown
Copyright © by Holt, Rinehart and Winston. All rights reserved.

the jumping-on-a-chair-at-the-sight-of-a-mouse era and a colonel who says that they haven’t.
“A woman’s unfailing reaction in any crisis,” the colonel says, “is to scream. And while a
man may feel like it, he has that ounce more of nerve control than a woman has. And that last
ounce is what counts.”
The American does not join in the argument but watches the other guests. As he looks, he
sees a strange expression come over the face of the hostess. She is staring straight ahead, her
muscles contracting slightly. With a slight gesture she summons the native boy standing behind
her chair and whispers to him. The boy’s eyes widen: he quickly leaves the room.
Of the guests, none except the American notices this or sees the boy place a bowl of milk on
the veranda just outside the open doors.
The American comes to with a start. In India, milk in a bowl means only one thing—bait for
a snake. He realizes there must be a cobra in the room. He looks up at the rafters—the likeliest
place—but they are bare. Three corners of the room are empty, and in the fourth the servants are
waiting to serve the next course. There is only one place left—under the table.
His first impulse is to jump back and warn the others, but he knows the commotion would
frighten the cobra into striking. He speaks quickly, the tone of his voice so arresting that it sobers
everyone.

*
During the time this story takes place, India was a British colony. The colonial official works for the
British government in India. The government attachés work for another country’s embassy in India.
Finally, a naturalist is someone who studies animals and plants.

“The Dinner Party” by Mona Gardner from The Saturday Review of Literature, vol. 25, no. 5, January 31,
1941. Copyright © 1941 by General Media Communications, Inc. Reprinted by permission of The
Saturday Review.
 “I want to know just what control everyone at this table has. I will count to three
hundred—that’s five minutes—and not one of you is to move a muscle. Those who move will
forfeit fifty rupees. Ready!”
The twenty people sit like stone images while he counts. He is saying “. . . two hundred and
eighty. . .” when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the cobra emerge and make for the bowl of
milk. Screams ring out as he jumps to slam the veranda doors safely shut.
“You were right, Colonel!” the host exclaims. “A man has just shown us an example of
perfect control.”
Copyright © by Holt, Rinehart and Winston. All rights reserved.

“Just a minute,” the American says, turning to his hostess. “Mrs. Wynnes, how did you know
that cobra was in the room?”
A faint smile lights up the woman’s face as she replies: “Because it was crawling across my
foot.”
The Oddity of Suburbia
by Alice Sebold

My family was watching television when a couple - the mother and father to a
woman who lived one street over with her family - were hit by a car and landed on
our front lawn. The man who hit them, leapt out of his car and shouted to two boys
playing basketball in the driveway of the house across from ours. He yelled: "These
people need an ambulance." He then proceeded to jump back in his car and drive
three houses down, where he calmly parked in his own driveway and went inside his
house. The daughter of the couple who had been hit had been walking behind her
parents and, having lapped them once, now came up upon the scene. We heard the
screaming and ran out. Both of her parents were killed. One died on our lawn, the
other died later, in a hospital. And the man who struck them? He was both one of
our neighbors and, by profession, a paramedic.

As I grew up and left home, living in Manhattan and just outside L.A., I began to
realize more and more that within the suburban world of my upbringing there were
as many strange stories as there were in the more romanticized parts of the world.
Ultimately, the East Village had nothing on Nowhere U.S.A. and I returned, after
several failed attempts at "the urban novel," to the material I knew best. Of course, I
found the elements for The Lovely Bones in a combination of things, but a major
element in its pages is the oddness of what we often condescendingly refer to as the
suburbs.

In those places - like the place where I grew up -- where all the houses of a
particular development share the same floor plan or, in upper end versions of recent
years, vary among three or four, live people with lives much more complex than the
architecture containing them would suggest. But it took me years to go home again
in my mind and imagination. To see the incidents that occurred all around me as a
child and as a teenager as worthy of narrative. But growing up in one of many
supposed Nowhere U.S.A.'s has created for me a bottomless well of narrative ideas.

Who would have thought that the place I most despised growing up - where I felt
like the weirdest freak and the biggest loser - would turn out to be a gift to me. But
what I have finally, to my joy, been made aware of is that while I grew up hearing
that there were 'a thousand stories in the naked city and none of them the same'
this was as true of the look-alike houses all around me as it was of the places I lived
as an adult. The difference perhaps is that you have to look harder in the suburbs,
past the floor plans and into the human heart.
© Copyright 2002 by Time Warner Bookmark. All rights reserved.

The Sun Goes Down on Summer by Steve Lawhead http://members.accessus.net/%7Ebradley/sungoesdownonsumm...

The Sun Goes Down on Summer by Steve Lawhead

I come to the water one last time as the sun goes down on summer.
It's going; I can feel it slip away, and it leaves a cold empty spot
a hole in my warm memories of endless golden days
and dreams as ripe as watermelons.
I'd give the world to make the summer stay.

The water is calm around me.

It's a warm, silent sea of thought dyed in the rich blues of night and memory.
Why can't things just stay the way they are?
Instead, the days rush headlong into change
and I feel like nothing's ever going to be the same.

Soon school will start again. And all the things I thought I'd left behind will come back, and it won't
be gentle water I'll be swimming in---
It'll be noise and people and schedules and passes and teachers telling everyone what to do.
One more year of homework, tests and grades. Of daily popularity contests and pressure-cooker
competition and heaps of frustration.

The first day is the worst. Not knowing who your friends are, or what's changed since last year.
Trying to pick it up where you left off.
I'll look real hard for a last-year's friend to get me from one scrambled class to another, through halls
crawling with people.

I wonder if I'll fit in.

Football practice started last week. It started without me.

I had to make a choice and football lost.
Two years on the team and it struck me--who am I doing this for?
It's just another thing people expect you to do, so you do it.
School is full of these kinds of things---things that sap your freedom, and keep you from being
yourself.
That's what I want most, to be myself. But that's hard.

Here's what I dread most: when summer goes, I go with it.

I go back to school and I change as soon as I walk through those doors.
I have to be someone everyone will like--that's a law of survival.

What would happen if I just stayed the real me?

Would they turn me off? Label me "weird"?
Would I ever get another date?
It seems like so much to risk.
But growing is a risk. Change is a risk.

1 of 2 9/3/09 8:24 PM
The Sun Goes Down on Summer by Steve Lawhead http://members.accessus.net/%7Ebradley/sungoesdownonsumm...

And who knows, I might discover something of myself

in the coming year.
I might get closer to the person I am---what a discovery that would be!

When the doors open on Monday morning, I’ll have a fresh start,
a fresh opportunity to find myself.
I want to be ready.

2 of 2 9/3/09 8:24 PM
“There’s a Hole in my Sidewalk“, by Portia Nelson

Chapter 1.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost…
I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I cant believe I am in this same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… its a habit.
But, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5.
I walk down another street.



 The World Is Not a Pleasant Place To Be
the world is not a pleasant place
to be without
someone to hold and be held by
a river would stop
its flow if only
a stream were there to recieve it
an ocean would never laugh
if clouds weren't there
to kiss her tears
the world is not a pleasant
place to be without
someone
Nikki Giovanni


CHOICES
By Nikki Giovanni

if i can't do
what i want to do
then my job is to not
do what i don't want
to do
it's not the same thing
but it's the best i can
do
if i can't have
what i want . . . then
my job is to want
what i've got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more to want
since i can't go
where i need
to go . . . then i must . . . go
where the signs point
through always understanding
parallel movement
isn't lateral
when i can't express
what i really feel
i practice feeling
what i can express
and none of it is equal
i know
but that's why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry


Human Family
Poem by Dr. Maya Angelou
Read at the dedication of the Disney Millennium Village

I note the obvious differences

in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived

as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones

can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I've sailed upon the seven seas

and stopped in every land.
I've seen the wonders of the world,
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women

called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I've not seen any two
who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different

although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,

we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,

are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.

I note the obvious differences

between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,

than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,

than we are unalike.
We Wear the Mask
WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!



‐‐Paul
Lawrence
Dunbar

Best of What's Around Lyrics That really matters
Artist(Band):Dave Matthews Band and Dave That really matters
Matthews That really matters
And hurts not much when you're around
Hey, my friend When you're around

It seems your eyes are troubled
Care to share your time with me
Would you say you're feeling low and so
A good idea would be to get it off of your mind

See, you and me

Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
And so can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We'll make the Best of What's Around

Turns out not where but who you're with

That really matters
That really matters
And hurts not much when you're around
When you're around

And if you hold on tight

To what you think is your thing
You may find you're missing all the rest
She ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind's eye is...

Seeing things from a

Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she's safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She'll make the best of what's around

Turns out not where but what you think

That really matters
That really matters
That really matters

See, you and me

Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
And so can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We'll make the Best of What's Around

Turns out not where but who you're with

Cats in the Cradle I called him up just the other day........
by Harry Chapin I said "I'd like to see you if you don’t mind"
He said "I'd love to Dad, if I could find the time.
You see my new jobs a hassle, and the kids have
the flu.
My child arrived just the other day But It's sure nice talking to you, Dad,
He came to the world in the usual way It's been sure nice talking to you........"
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He learned to walk while I was away He'd grown up just like me,
And he was talking before I knew it and as he My boy was just like me..............
grew
He said, "I’m gonna be like you, Dad,
You know I’m gonna be like you" And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon When you comin home, Son, I dont know when,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon But we'll get together then, Dad
When you comin home, dad, I don’t know when, We're gonna have a good time then.
But we'll get together then, Son,
You know we'll have a good time then.

My son turned ten just the other day

He said "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on lets
play
can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today,
I got a lot to do" He said "Thats okay"
And then he walked away but his smile never
dimmed
And said "I’m gonna be like him, yeah
You know I’m going to be like him"

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon

Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin home, dad, I dont know when,
But we'll get together then, Son,
You know we'll have a good time then.

Well he came from college just the other day

So much like a man I just had to say,
"Son, I’m proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile

"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car

keys
See you later, can I have them please?"

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon

Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin home, Son, I dont know when,
But we'll get together then, Dad,
You know we'll have a good time then.

I’ve long since retired, my son's moved away

Ironic Lyrics
Artist(Band):Alanis Morissette

An old man, turned 98

He won the lottery, and died the next day
It's a black fly in your chardonnay
It's a death row pardon, two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic?
Don't you think?

It's like rain, on your wedding day

It's a free ride, when you've already paid
It's the good advice, that you just didn't take
And who would've thought? It figures

Mr. Play-It-Safe, was afraid to fly

He packed his suitcase, and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life, to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought, "Well isn't this nice?"
And isn't it ironic?
Don't you think?

It's like rain, on your wedding day

It's a free ride, when you've already paid
It's the good advice, that you just didn't take
And who would've thought? It figures

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you

When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out
When you think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face

A traffic jam, when you're already late

A "No smoking" sign, on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic?
Don't you think?
A little too ironic?
Yeah I really do think

It's like rain, on your wedding day

It's a free ride, when you've already paid
It's the good advice, that you just didn't take
And who would've thought?
It figures

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you

And life has a funny, funny way, of helping you out
Helping you out



One Dime Blues
written by Blind Lemon Jefferson

I'm broke and I aint got a dime,

I'm broke and I aint got a dime,
I'm broke and aint got a dime,
Everybody gets in hard luck sometime.
I was standing on East Cairo Street one day,
I was standing on East Cairo Street one day,
I was standing on East Cairo Street one day,
One dime was all I had
Mamma, don't treat your daughter mean,
Mamma, don't treat your daughter mean,
Mamma, don't treat your daughter mean,
That's the meanest woman a man has ever seen.
You want your friend to be bad like Jesse James,
You want your friend to be bad like Jesse James,
You want your friend to be bad like Jesse James,
Just give'm a six shooter and highway some passenger train.
One dime was all I had,
One dime was all I had,
One dime was all I had,
Try'n to be a sportin' lad
I bought that morning news,
I bought that morning news,
I bought that morning news,
Then I bought a cigar too (?)


 1

SUCKER

Carson McCullers

I t was always like I had a room to myself. Sucker slept in my bed

with me ut that didn't interfere with anything. The room was mine
and I used it as I wanted to. Once I remember sawing a trap door in
the floor. Last year when I was a sophomore in high school I tacked
on my wall some pictures of girls from magazines and one of them
was just in her underwear. My mother never bothered me because
she had the younger kids to look after. And Sucker thought anything I
did was always swell.
Whenever I would bring any of my friends back to my room all I had
to do was just glance once at Sucker and he would get up from
whatever he was busy with and maybe half smile at me, and leave
without saying a word. He never brought kids back there. He's twelve,
four years younger than I am, and he always knew without me even
telling him that I didn't want kids that age meddling with my things.
Half the time I used to forget that Sucker isn't my brother. He's my
first
cousin but practically ever since I remember he's been in our family.
You see his folks were killed in a wreck when he was a baby. To me
and my kid sisters he was like our brother.
Sucker used to always remember and believe every word I said.
That's how he got his nickname. Once a couple of years ago I told
him that if he'd jump off our garage with an umbrella it would act as a
 2

parachute and he wouldn't fall hard. He did it and busted his knee.
That's just one instance. And the funny thing was that no matter how
many times he got fooled he would still believe me. Not that he was
dumb in other ways—it was just the way he acted with me. He would
look at everything I did and quietly take it in.
There is one thing I have learned, but it makes me feel guilty and is
hard to figure out. If a person admires you a lot you despise him and
don't care- —and it is the person who doesn`t notice you that you are
apt to admire. This is not easy to realize. Maybelle Watts, this senior
at school, acted like she was the Queen of Sheba and even
humiliated me. Yet at the same time I would have done anything in
the world to get her attentions. All I could think about day and night
was Maybelle until I was nearly crazy. When Sucker was a little kid
and on up until the time I was twelve I guess I treated him as bad as
Maybelle did me.

Now that Sucker has changed so much it is a little hard to remember

him as he used to be. I never imagined anything would suddenly
happen that would make us both VERY different. I never knew that in
order to get what has happened straight in my mind I would want to
think back on him as lie used to be and compare and try to get things
settled. If I could have seen ahead maybe I would have acted
different.
I never noticed him much or thought about him and when you
consider how long we have had the same room Together it is
funny the few things I remember. He used to talk to himself a lot
when he'd think he was alone—all about him fighting gangsters and
being on ranches and that sort of kids' stuff. He'd get in the
 3

bathroom and stay as longas an hour and sometimes his voice

would go up high and excited and you could hear him all over the
house. Usually, though, he was very quiet. He didn't have many
boys in the neighborhood to buddy with and his face had the look
ofa kid who is watching a game and waiting to be asked to play. He
didn't mind wearing the sweaters and coats that I outgrew, even if
the sleeves did flop down too big and make his wrists look as thin
and white as a little girl's. That is how I remember him—getting a
little bigger every year but still being the same. That was Sucker up
until a few months ago when all this trouble began.

Maybelle was somehow mixed up in what happened so I guess I

ought to start with her. Until 1 knew her I hadn't given much time to
girls. Last fall she sat next to me in General Science class and that
was when I first began to notice her.Her hair is the brightest yellow I
ever saw. And occasionally she would wear it set into curls with
some sort of gluey stuff . Her fingernails are pointed and manicured
and painted a shiny red. All during class I used to watch Maybelle,
nearly all the time except when I thought she was going to look my
way orwhen the teacher called on me. I couldn't keep my eyes off her
hands, for one thing. They are very little and white except for that red
stuff, and when she would turn the pages other book she always
licked her thumb and held out her little finger and turned very slowly.
It is impossible to describe Maybelle. All the boys are crazy about her
but she didn't even notice me. For one thing she's almost two years
older than I am. Between periods I used to try and pass very close to
her in the halls but she would hardly ever smile at me. All I could do
was sit and look at her in class—and sometimes it was like the whole
room could hear my heart beating and I waited to holler or light out
 4

and run for hell.

At night, in bed, I would imagine about Maybelle. Often this would
keep me from sleeping until as late as one or two o'clock.
Sometimes Sucker would wake up and ask me why I couldn't get
settled and I'd tell him to hush his mouth. Isuppose I was mean to
him lots of times. I guess I wanted to ignore somebody like Maybelle
did me. You could always tell by Suckers face when his feelings
were hurt. I don't remember all the ugly remarks I must have made
because even when I was saying them my mind was on Maybelle.
That went on for nearly three months and then somehow she
began to change. In the halls she would speak to me and every
morning she copied my homework. At lunch time once I danced with
her in the gym. One afternoon I got up nerve and went around to her
house with a carton of cigarettes.I knew she smoked in the girls'
basement and sometimes outside or school—and I didn't want to
take her candy because I think that's been run into the ground. She
was very nice and it seemed to me everything was going to change.
It was that night when this trouble really started. I had come into
my room late and Sucker was already asleep. I felt too happy and
keyed up to get in a comfortable position and I was awake thinking
about Maybelle a long time. Then I dreamed about her and it
seemed I kissed her. It was a surprise to wake up and see the dark. I
lay still and a little while passed before I could come to and
understand where I was. The house was quiet and it was a very
dark night.
Sucker's voice was a shock to me. "Pete? . . ."
I didn't answer anything or even move.
"You do like me as much as if I was your own brother, don't you
 5

Pete?"
I couldn’t get over the .surprise of everything until it was like this
was the real dream instead of the other.
"You have liked me all the time like I was your own brother, haven't
you?"
"Sure," I said.
Then I got up for a few minutes. It was cold and I was glad to come
back to bed. Sucker hung on to my back. He felt little and warm and I
could feel his warm breathing on my shoulder.
"No matter what you did I always knew you liked me."

I was wide awake and my mind seemed mixed up in a strange way.

There was this happiness about Maybelle and all that —but at the
same time something about Sucker and his voice when he said these
things made me take notice. Anyway I guess you understand people
better when you are happy than when something is worrying you. It
was like I had never really thought about Sucker until' then. I felt I had
always been mean to him. One night a few weeks before I had
heard him crying in the dark. He said he had lost a boy's BB gun and
was scared to let anybody know. He wanted me to tell him what to
do. I was sleepy and tried to make him hush and when he wouldn't I
kicked at him. . That was just one of the things I remembered. It
seemed to me he had always been a lonesome kid. I felt bad.
There is something about a dark cold night that makes you feel
close to someone you're sleeping with. When you talk together it is
like you are the only people awake in the town.
"You're a swell kid, Sucker," I said.
It seemed to me suddenly that I did like him more than anybody else
I knew – more than any other boy, more than my sisters, more in a
 6

certain way even than Maybelle. I felt good all over and it was like
when they play sad music in the movies. I wanted to show Sucker
how much I really thought of him and make up for the way I'd always
treated him. We talked for a good while that night. His voice was fast
and it was like he had been saving up these things to tell me for a
long time. He mentioned that he was going to try tobuild a canoe and
that the kids down the block wouldn't let him in on their football team
and 1 don't know what all. I talked some too and it was a good
feeling to think of him taking in everything I said so seriously. I even
spoke ofMaybelle a little, only I made out like it was her who had
been running after me all this time. He asked questions about high
school and so forth. His voice was excited and he kept on talking fast
like he could never get the words out in time.When I went to sleep he
was still talking and I could still feel his breathing on my shoulder,
warm and close.
During the next couple of weeks 1 saw a lot of- Maybelle. She
acted as though she really cared for me a little. Half the time I felt so
good I hardly knew what to do with myself. Hut I didn't forget about
Sucker. There were a lot of old things in my bureau drawer I'd been
saving—boxing gloves and Tom Swift books and second-rate fishing
tackle. All this I turned over to him. We had some more talks together
and it was really like I was knowing him for the first time. When there
was a long cut on his cheek I knew he had been monkeying around
with tins new first razor set of mine, but I didn't say anything. His face
seemed different now. He used to look timid and sort or like he was
afraid of a whack over the head. That expression was gone. His
face, with those wide-open eyes and his cars sticking out and his
 7

mouth never quite shut, had the look of a person who is surprised
and expecting something swell.
Once I started to point him out to Maybelle and tell her he was my kid
brother. It was an afternoon when a murder mystery was on at the
movie. I had earned a dollar working for my
dad and I gave Sucker a quarter to go and get candy and so forth.
With the rest I took Maybelle. We were sitting near the back and I
saw Sucker come in. He began to stare at the screen the minute he
stepped past the ticket man and he stumbled down the aisle without
noticing where he was going. I started to punch Maybelle but couldn't
quite make up my mind. Sucker looked a little silly—walking like a
drunk with his eyes glued to the movie. He was wiping his reading
glasses on his shirttail and his knickers flopped down. He went on
until he got to the first few rows where the kids usually sit. I never did
punch Maybelle. . But I got to thinking it was good to have both of
them at the movie with the money I earned.
I guess things went on like this for about a month or six-weeks. I
felt so good I couldn't settle down to study or pin mv mind on
anything. I wanted to be friendly with everybody. There were times
when I just had to talk to some person. And
usually that would be Sucker. He felt as good as I did. Once he said:
"Pete, I am gladder that you are like my brother than anything else in
the world."
Then something happened between Maybelle and me. I never have
figured out just what it was. Girls like her are hard to understand. She
began to act different toward me. At first I wouldn't let myself believe
this and tried to think it was just my imagination. She didn't act glad
to see me anymore. Often she went out riding with this fellow on the
 8

football team who owns this yellow roadster. The car was the color of
her hair and after school she would ride off with him, laughing and
looking into his face. I couldn't think of anything to do about it and she
was on my mind all day and night. When I did get a chance to go out
with her she was snippy and didn't seem to notice me. This made me
feel like something was The matter—I would worry about my shoes
clopping too loud on the floor, or the fly of my pants, or the bumps on
my chin..Sometimes when Maybelle was around, a devil would get
intome and I'd hold my face stiff and call grown men by their
lastnames without the Mister and say rough things. In the night
Iwould wonder what made me do all this until I was too tiredfor sleep.
At first I was so worried I just forgot about Sucker. Thenlater he
began to get on my nerves. He was always hangingaround until I
would get back from high school, always look-ing like he had
something to say to me or wanted me to tellhim. He made me a
magazine rack in his Manual Trainingclass and one week he saved
his lunch money and bought methree packs of cigarettes. He couldn't
seem to take it in thatI had things on my mind and didn't want to fool
with him.Every afternoon it would be the same—him in my roomwith
this waiting expression on his face. Then I wouldn't sayanything or I'd
maybe answer him rough-like and he wouldfinally go on out.
I can't divide that time up and say this happened oneday and that
the next. For one thing I was so mixed up theweeks just slid along
into each other and I felt like hell anddidn't care. Nothing definite was
said or done. Maybelle still rode around with this fellow in his yellow
roadsterand sometimes she would smile at me and sometimes
not.Every afternoon I went from one place to another where Ithought
she would be. Either she would act almost niceand I would begin
thinking how things would finallyclear up and she would care for me—
 9

or else she'd behaveso that if she hadn't been a girl I'd have wanted
to grabher by that white little neck and choke her. The moreashamed
I felt for making a fool of myself the more I ranafter her. Sucker kept
getting on my nerves more and more. He would look at me as though
lie sort of blamed me for something, but at the same time knew that it
wouldn't lastlong. He was growing fast and for some reason began
tostutter when he talked. Sometimes he had nightmares orwould
throw up his breakfast. Mom got him a bottle ofcod liver oil.
Then the finish came between Maybelle and me. I met hergoing to
the drug store and asked for a date. When she saidno I remarked
something sarcastic. She told me she was sickand tired of my being
around and that she had never cared arap about me. She said all
that. I just stood there and didn'tanswer anything. I walked home very
slowly.
For several afternoons I stayed in my room by myself. Ididn't want
to go anywhere or talk to anyone. When Suckerwould come in and
look at me sort of funny I'd yell at him toget out. I didn't want to think
of Maybelle and I sat at mydesk reading Popular Mechanics or
whittling at a toothbrushrack I was making. It seemed to me I was
putting that girlout of my mind pretty well.
But you can't help what happens to you at night. That iswhat made
things how they are now.
You see a few nights after Maybelle said those words to meI
dreamed about her again. It was like that first time and I
wassqueezing Sucker's arm so tight I woke him up. He reachedfor
my hand.
"Pete, what's the matter with you?"

All of a sudden I felt so mad my throat choked—at myselfand the

 10

dream and Maybelle and Sucker and every singleperson 1 knew. I

remembered all the times Maybelle hadhumiliated me and everything
bad that had ever happened.It seemed to me for a second that
nobody would ever likeme but a sap like Sucker.
"Why is it we aren't buddies like we were before? Why—-?
"Shut your damn trap!" I threw off the cover and got upand turned
on the light. He sat in the middle of the bed, his eyes blinking and
scared.
There was something in me and I couldn't help myself. I don't think
anybody ever gets that mad but once. Words came without me
knowing what they would be. It was only afterward that I could
remember each thing I said and see it all in a clear way.
"Why aren't we buddies? Because you're the dumbest slob I ever
saw! Nobody cares anything about you! And just because I felt sorry
for you sometimes and tried to act decent don't think I give a damn
about a dumb-bunny like you!"
If I talked loud or hit him it wouldn't have been so bad. But my
voice was slow and like I was very calm. Sucker's mouth was part
way open and lie looked as though he'd knocked his funny bone. His
face was white and sweat cameout on his forehead. He wiped it
away with the back of his hand and for a minute his arm stayed
raised that way as though he was holding something away from him.
"Don't you know a single thing? Haven't you ever been around at
all? Why don't you get a girl friend instead of me? What kind of sissy
do you want to grow up to be anyway?"
I didn't know what was coming next. I couldn't help myself or think.
Sucker didn't move. He had on one of my pajama jackets and his
 11

neck stuck out skinny and small. His hair was damp on his forehead.
"Why do you always hang around me? Don't you know when you're
not. wanted?"
Afterward I could remember the change In Sucker's face. Surely that
blank look went away and he closed his mouth.His eyes got narrow
and his fists shut. There had never been such a look on him before. It
was like every second he was getting older. There was a hard look to
his eyes you don't see usually in a kid. A drop of sweat rolled down
his chin and he didn't notice. He just sat there with those eyes on me
and he didn't speak and his face was hard and didn't move.
"No you don't know when you're not wanted. You're too dumb. Just
like your name—a dumb Sucker."
It was like something had busted inside me. I turned off the light
and sat down in the chair by the window. My legs were shaking and I
was so tired I could have bawled. The room was cold and dark. I sat
there for a long time andsmoked a squashed cigarette I had saved.
Outside the yard was black and quiet. After a while I heard Sucker lie
down.
I wasn't mad anymore, only tired. It seemed awful to me that I had
talked like that to a kid only twelve. I couldn't take it all in. I told myself
I would go over to him and try to make it up. But I just sat there in the
cold until a long timehad passed. I planned how I could straighten it
out in the morning. Then, trying not to squeak the springs, I got back
in bed.
Sucker was gone when I .woke up the next day. And later
when I wanted to apologize as I had planned he looked at me
in this new hard way so that I couldn't say a word.
 12

All of that was two or three months ago. Since then Sucker
has grown faster than any boy I ever saw. He's almost as tall
as I am and his bones have gotten heavier and bigger. He
won't wear any of my old clothes anymore and has bought his
first pair of long pants—with some leather suspenders to hold
them up. Those are just the changes that are easy to see and
put into words.
Our room isn't mine at all anymore. He's gotten up this gang of kids
and they have a club. When they aren't digging trenches in some
vacant lot and fighting they are always in my room. On the door there
is some foolishness written in Mercurochrome
saying "woe to the Outsider who Enters" and signed with crossed
bones and their secret initials. They have rigged up a radio and
every afternoon it blares out music. Once as I was coming in I heard
a boy telling something in a low voice about what he saw in the back
of his big brother's automobile. I could guess what I didn't hear.
That's what her and my brother do. It's the truth – parked in the car.
For a minute Sucker looked surprised and his face was almost like it
used to be. Then he got hard and tough again. "Sure, dumbbell. We
know all that." They didn't notice me. Sucker began telling them how
in two years he was planning to be a trapper in Alaska.
But most of the time Sucker stays by himself. It is worse when we
are alone together in the room. He sprawls across the bed in those
long corduroy pants with the suspenders and just stares at me with
that hard, hard-sneering look. Fiddle around my desk and can't get
settled because of those eyes of his. And the thing is I just have to
study because I've gotten three bad cards this term already. If I flunk
 13

English I can't graduate next year. I don't want to be a bum and I just
have to get my mind on it. I don't care a flip for Maybelle or any
particular girl anymore and it's only this thing between Sucker and me
that is the trouble now. We never speak except when we have to
before the family. I don't even want to call him Sucker anymore and
unless I forget I call him by his real name, Richard. At night I can't
study with him in the room and I have to hang around the drug store,
smoking and doing nothing, with the fellows who loaf there.
More than anything I want to be easy in my mind again. And I miss
the way Sucker and I were for a while in a funny, sad way that
before this I never would have believed. But everything is so
different that there seems to be nothing I can do to get it right. I've
sometimes thought if we could have it out in a big fight that would
help. But ! can't fighthim because he's four years younger. And
another thing--sometimes this look in his eyes makes me almost
believethat if Sucker could he would kill me.

Responding to the Story

1. How did you feel about Sucker when the story ended? In several paragraphs
explain why you think you came to feel the way you did. [Think about the
ways the author described Sucker throughout the story.}
2. "If a person admires you a lot you despise him and don't care—and it is the
person who doesn't notice you that you are apt to admire."a. Explain what
the narrator means by these words. How are these words relevant to the
story?
b. Write a short paper in which you support or refute the idea in this quotation.
Base your paper on vour own experiences.
 14

'Exploring the Author's Craft

This story is carefully structured. Explain how the stories of the narrator and
Maybelle and the narrator and Sucker parallel each other.

Writer's Workshop
In any form you wish—story, essay, poem, or short script—create a written
work that explores a relationship between two siblings. If you are writing prose,
write about two or three different incidents that show the changing nature of
the relationship between the two.