Read Online The Dragon in the Ghetto Caper by E.L. Konigsburg - Free Book Online Page A

machine said to Brother Banks, “Some pickup lady you got. She be pickin’ up childern and troubles.”
    Brother Banks answered, “Don’ go faultin’ Sista. She be one a the best. She be wary.” Brother Banks then began opening the bags. They were full of paper slips and coins and some paper money, nothing bigger than a one. He made a neat pile of the crumpled slips and handed them to the other man who began totaling them on the adding machine. Then Brother Banks started counting the money, sliding one or two coins to the edge of the table and letting them drop into his palm. “Four twenty-two, four forty…”
    â€œWhat church do you belong to?” Andy asked.
    â€œChurch?” Brother Banks looked up, holding an index finger on top of the quarter he was ready to count. “Church of God,” he answered. “Four forty…”
    â€œNo,” Andy corrected. “That would be four sixty-five. You’re past four forty.”
    â€œHow you know, son?”
    â€œI’m trained. Trained myself. I count a lot of things. All churches are churches of God. Which one is yours?”
    â€œWhich one of what be mine?”
    â€œWhich church of God are you minister of?”
    â€œThe Church of God’s Good Fortune. Four eighty…”
    â€œNope,” Andy corrected again. “You’re still at four sixty-five. You counted that quarter, but didn’t palm it yet. Are you a Holy Roller? I mean in God’s Good Fortune? I have heard that a lot of Blacks are Holy Rollers.”
    â€œAh’ll tell you what,” Brother Banks answered. “When a seven comes up on my very first roll, Ah say that Ah
am
a Holy Roller.” He looked back down at the table and said, “Four eighty.” His eyes rolled up toward Andy. Andy nodded yes, and Brother Banks continued, “Five dollahs an’ thirty.”
    Andy didn’t interrupt further. He looked around the room. It was almost bare. In one corner he noticed a stack of newspapers. All the
New York Times.
He wandered over to the stack, looked through them and noticed that they were all Friday editions. While he glanced through the papers, Brother Banks and his friend talked to each other. The man behind the adding machine rolled some bills together and wound them around with a rubber band. He tossed the roll to Andy. Andy tossed it back.
    â€œToo hot for you?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” Andy answered, “but if that’s your contribution to Sister Henderson, she said to hold it for her.”
    The two men looked at each other and shrugged. “That’s what she said,” Andy repeated. They said nothing, and Andy didn’t know whether or not he was supposed to leave. To cover his awkwardness he said, “Well, it was nicemeeting you two.” They still said nothing. Andy felt himself begin to blush. “It’s nice to meet someone who reads the
New York Times
right here in Gainesboro. My mother, now, my mother likes to read the book reviews in the
New York Times.
She says that it saves her from having to read the books. That’s what my mother says. Of course, she says it about the Sunday
Times
mostly.” The men folded their arms across their chests, both of them staring at Andy and saying nothing. But they were smiling. Andy cleared his throat. “Now, as for the local paper, I prefer the Thursday edition. It’s got more in it in the way of ads, paper towels and stuff.” They still said nothing. “Uh,” Andy said, “what do you most enjoy about the newspaper?”
    The man behind the adding machine folded his arms across his chest, tilted back on his chair and said, “When it comes to newspapahs we mostly enjoys the
New Yo’k Times
Friday editions. What we mostly enjoys has mo’ t’ do with makin’ book than with readin’ them. Now, you tell Sistah Hendahson that nex’ week she to bring huh own.