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Authors: Peg Kehret
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the deli section. He’ll give you a sandwich and something to drink.” He handed the paper to me.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I’ll do it right away.”
I backed out of his office and closed the door behind me. I raced down the stairs, helped myself to a plastic bag from the end of a check stand, and went outside. There was plenty of trash blowing around the parking lot in front of the store.
I slid my left arm, which was holding Foxey’s box, through the handles of the bag. I collected trash with the other hand and put it in the bag. I picked up losing lottery tickets, gum wrappers, an orange peel, empty soft-drink containers, store receipts, and a baby bottle that smelled like sour milk.
As I worked, I thought about the sandwich I was earning. If the deli had hot sandwiches, I would ask for grilled cheese. If they only had cold sandwiches, I’d get either cheese with lettuce and tomato, or egg salad. I wondered if the deli gave a dill pickle on theside. I hoped so. Maybe there would be little packets of mustard, too.
When the plastic bag was full, I carried it to the back of the store and emptied it into the trash bin. Then I went out to fill it again. Once I bent to pick up a Coke can and spotted a penny under a car. “I found a lucky penny,” I told Foxey, as I put it in my pocket. “Now we have twenty-seven cents.”
I felt even luckier when I saw a half-full bag of potato chips. I snatched it up, grabbed a handful, and stuffed them in my mouth, savoring the crisp, salty chips. As I chewed, the corner of my lip tickled.
I wiped my lip with my finger and glanced down at my finger. An ant crawled toward my wrist. A big black ant. I stopped chewing.
I flicked the ant to the pavement, opened the bag wide, and looked inside. The ant’s relatives were having a party in my bag of potato chips. Dozens of them crawled around on the chips and on the inside of the bag. I spit the half-chewed contents of my mouth back into the bag, rolled the bag up tight, and hurried behind the store.
As I dropped the potato chips in the trash, I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, hoping I would find only my teeth.
I considered turning my piece of paper in to the deli clerk right then, since I desperately wanted to get the taste of those potato chips out of my mouth, but I hadnot yet finished picking up all the litter, and a deal’s a deal. The store manager was nice enough to give me a job, and I did not intend to cheat him.
I headed out again. I was in the far corner of the parking lot, filling the bag for the third time, when the police car arrived. It cruised slowly, as if the occupants were looking over the whole area.
I dropped down behind a maroon minivan. Had the store manager called the police and told them he had found a suspected runaway? Had he asked me to pick up litter as a way to keep me here until the cops could come? I stood up just far enough to see what was happening, peeking over the top of the minivan.
The police car pulled into one of the handicap parking spaces closest to the store. One officer stayed in the car, with the motor running. A second officer got out and went inside. Through the glass window, I could see him talking to the manager.
My mouth went dry. They were looking for me; I was sure of it. Maybe the manager had seen my picture on the news, and he recognized me.
The police officer returned to the patrol car, and it cruised slowly up and down the parking lot. I stayed behind the minivan. As the police car turned down the row I was in, I dropped to my hands and knees and peered under the minivan. When I saw tires approaching, I crawled to the back end of the van and then around to the far side. The patrol car kept going.
When the officers had driven every row, the patrolcar double-parked in front of the store, and one cop went in again. A minute later, he came out. Then the patrol car drove out of the parking lot, and went off down the street. I crouched beside the minivan,
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I’ll do it right away.”
I backed out of his office and closed the door behind me. I raced down the stairs, helped myself to a plastic bag from the end of a check stand, and went outside. There was plenty of trash blowing around the parking lot in front of the store.
I slid my left arm, which was holding Foxey’s box, through the handles of the bag. I collected trash with the other hand and put it in the bag. I picked up losing lottery tickets, gum wrappers, an orange peel, empty soft-drink containers, store receipts, and a baby bottle that smelled like sour milk.
As I worked, I thought about the sandwich I was earning. If the deli had hot sandwiches, I would ask for grilled cheese. If they only had cold sandwiches, I’d get either cheese with lettuce and tomato, or egg salad. I wondered if the deli gave a dill pickle on theside. I hoped so. Maybe there would be little packets of mustard, too.
When the plastic bag was full, I carried it to the back of the store and emptied it into the trash bin. Then I went out to fill it again. Once I bent to pick up a Coke can and spotted a penny under a car. “I found a lucky penny,” I told Foxey, as I put it in my pocket. “Now we have twenty-seven cents.”
I felt even luckier when I saw a half-full bag of potato chips. I snatched it up, grabbed a handful, and stuffed them in my mouth, savoring the crisp, salty chips. As I chewed, the corner of my lip tickled.
I wiped my lip with my finger and glanced down at my finger. An ant crawled toward my wrist. A big black ant. I stopped chewing.
I flicked the ant to the pavement, opened the bag wide, and looked inside. The ant’s relatives were having a party in my bag of potato chips. Dozens of them crawled around on the chips and on the inside of the bag. I spit the half-chewed contents of my mouth back into the bag, rolled the bag up tight, and hurried behind the store.
As I dropped the potato chips in the trash, I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, hoping I would find only my teeth.
I considered turning my piece of paper in to the deli clerk right then, since I desperately wanted to get the taste of those potato chips out of my mouth, but I hadnot yet finished picking up all the litter, and a deal’s a deal. The store manager was nice enough to give me a job, and I did not intend to cheat him.
I headed out again. I was in the far corner of the parking lot, filling the bag for the third time, when the police car arrived. It cruised slowly, as if the occupants were looking over the whole area.
I dropped down behind a maroon minivan. Had the store manager called the police and told them he had found a suspected runaway? Had he asked me to pick up litter as a way to keep me here until the cops could come? I stood up just far enough to see what was happening, peeking over the top of the minivan.
The police car pulled into one of the handicap parking spaces closest to the store. One officer stayed in the car, with the motor running. A second officer got out and went inside. Through the glass window, I could see him talking to the manager.
My mouth went dry. They were looking for me; I was sure of it. Maybe the manager had seen my picture on the news, and he recognized me.
The police officer returned to the patrol car, and it cruised slowly up and down the parking lot. I stayed behind the minivan. As the police car turned down the row I was in, I dropped to my hands and knees and peered under the minivan. When I saw tires approaching, I crawled to the back end of the van and then around to the far side. The patrol car kept going.
When the officers had driven every row, the patrolcar double-parked in front of the store, and one cop went in again. A minute later, he came out. Then the patrol car drove out of the parking lot, and went off down the street. I crouched beside the minivan,
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