The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers [47]
‘I reckon so.’
‘Fascist?’ he asked. ‘What?’
‘I say is that Mozart a Fascist or a Nazi? ‘ Mick thought a minute. ‘No. They’re new, and this fellow’s been dead some time.’
‘It’s a good thing.’ He began punching in the dark again. He wanted her to ask why. ‘I say it’s a good thing,’ he said again. ‘Why? ‘ ‘Because I hate Fascists. If I met one walking on the street I’d kill him.’ She looked at Harry. The leaves against the street light made quick, freckly shadows on his face. He was excited. ‘How come?’ she asked. ‘Gosh! Don’t you ever read the paper? You see, it’s this way--‘ They had come back around the block. A commotion was going on at her house. People were yelling and running on the sidewalk. A heavy sickness came in her belly. There’s not time to explain unless we prom around the block again. I don’t mind telling you why I hate Fascists. I’d like to tell about it.’ This was probably the first chance he had got to spiel these ideas out to somebody. But she didn’t have time to listen.
She was busy looking at what she saw in the front of her house. ‘O.K. I’ll see you later.’ The prom was over now, so she could look and put her mind on the mess she saw.
What had happened while she was gone? When she left the people were standing around in the fine clothes and it was a real party. Now--after just five minutes--the place looked more like a crazy house. While she was gone those kids had come out of the dark and right into the party itself. The nerve they had! There was old Pete Wells banging out of the front door with a cup of punch hi his hand. They bellowed and ran and mixed with the invited people--in their old loose-legged knickers and everyday clothes.
Baby Wilson messed around on the front porch--and Baby wasn’t more than four years old. Anybody could see she ought to be home in bed by now, same as Bubber. She walked down the steps one at a time, holding the punch high up over her head. There was no reason for her to be here at all. Mister Brannon was her uncle and she could get free candy and drinks at his place any time she wanted to. As soon as she was on the sidewalk Mick caught her by the arm. ‘You go right home, Baby Wilson. Go on, now.’ Mick looked around to see what else she could do to straighten things out again like they ought to be. She went up to Sucker Wells. He stood farther down the sidewalk, where it was dark, holding his paper cup and looking at everybody in a dreamy way. Sucker was seven years old and he had on shorts. His chest and feet were naked. He wasn’t causing any of the commotion, but she was mad I as hell at what had happened.
She grabbed Sucker by the shoulders and began to shake him.
At first he held his jaws tight, but after a minute his teeth began to rattle. ‘You go home, Sucker Wells. You quit hanging around where you’re not invited.’ When she let him go, Sucker tucked his tail and walked slowly down the street.
But he didn’t go all the way home. After he got to the corner she saw him sit down on the curb and watch the party where he thought she couldn’t see him.
For a minute she felt good about shaking the spit out of Sucker. And then right afterward she had a bad worry feeling in her and she started to let him come back. The big kids were the ones who messed up everything. Real brats they were, and with the worst nerve she had ever seen.
Drinking up the refreshments and ruining the real party into all this commotion. They slammed through the front door and hollered and bumped into each other. She went up to Pete Wells because he was the worst of all. He wore his football helmet and butted into people. Pete was every bit of fourteen, yet he was still stuck in the seventh grade. She went up to him, but he was too big to shake like Sucker. When she told him to go home he shimmied and made a nose dive at her.
‘I been in six different states. Florida, Alabama--. Made out of silver cloth with a sash. The party was all messed up. Everybody was talking at once.