Read Online KooKooLand by Gloria Norris - Free Book Online Page A

Daddy.”
    â€œHey, it’s ’cause of me you’re teacher’s pet. Don’t you forget it.”
    I couldn’t argue with that. Virginia had taught me everything I knew. Before I was even in first grade, she had drilled me in reading, spelling, adding, subtracting. She’d also made me memorize the names of all the countries on the globe YaYa had given us so we’d know where the hell Greece was. Virginia didn’t go in much for school herself, but she taught me stuff to amuse herself, just like she trained Squirmy to stand on his hind legs and eat feta cheese from her lips. Jimmy thought it was great that I had learned to read so early ’cause then I could slack off for the first few years. Plus, he was crazy about reading himself. He liked World War II stories and The Call of the Wild and Orwell’s 1984 ’cause he said Big Brother was breathing down our frickin’ necks.
    But it was tough to show off your reading skills if no one ever calledon you. And that’s how it was in Miss Rogers’ third-grade class, until one day I came home from school blubbering to Shirley about it and then Jimmy came home and asked what all the blubbering was about. When Shirley gave him the lowdown, he turned as red as that poisoned apple I had given Miss Rogers.
    â€œI’ll go pop that old biddy in the breadbasket!” he shouted, and started to head for the door.
    â€œNo, Daddy,” I pleaded, “I’ll get expelled.”
    â€œHave a drink first,” Shirley suggested, trying to calm him down. “It’s happy hour.” She handed him the highball she already had waiting for him.
    Jimmy took a slug of the highball and reconsidered his options. He mentioned something about popping the old biddy’s kneecaps. He said he knew some dago gangsters in Revere who would do it for him, for nothing too, if they heard somebody had even looked at one of his kids sideways.
    That sounded better to me. Unlike with Jimmy doing something himself, I didn’t see how the dago gangsters could be traced to me. But then it occurred to me what if the dagos were squealers? What if they got caught and squealed and maybe I’d be seen as an accomplice and end up in the slammer along with them?
    Right about then Papou called with a tip on a horse. Jimmy started ranting about the old biddy and the dago gangsters and Papou cut him off. Papou said forget the dagos, he knew what to do, he’d take care of it.
    The next day an alkie from the beer joint, clean-shaven and dressed in one of Papou’s fancy suits, delivered a whole case of Orange Crush to my classroom. Then he lugged in a case of grape soda and a box filled with Fig Newtons and Lorna Doones and some party hats left over from the big wingding Papou threw every year for all the alkies. Then he handed Miss Rogers a note and a red rose.
    Miss Rogers got all giddy like the lady at the office when Jimmy gave her that Mickey Mouse lighter.
    Miss Rogers asked me to read Papou’s note out loud to the class. It said we should have a nice party on him and work hard and mind our wonderful teacher and he signed it Mr. Nick Norris, owner of Nick’s Cafe. I noticed he had left out the Ringside part.
    That very day Miss Rogers moved me to a seat in the front row and from then on it was smooth sailing. In June when I took home my final report card, there were nothing but As on it for the whole year.
    Jimmy brought the report card to the beer joint and passed it around to the alkies and they had a round to celebrate.
    He told them I was smart all right, but I should cut loose more. Live a little ’cause life was short and before I knew it I’d be grown up like them and life would be closing in around me. Life would be suffocating the life out of me.
    It doesn’t last, he lamented. The good old days are over before you know it and all you’re left with is a bunch of bad new days.
    I’ll drink to that, one of