The Planet of Junior Brown Page 15

  “All right,” Buddy said. He and Mr. Pool pulled slightly away from Junior.

  “How do you call a monster?” Mr. Pool asked Buddy.

  “You don’t,” Buddy thought to say. “You wait and you feel when it’s time.”

  “You are better tuned than I am,” Mr. Pool said. “You tell me when it’s time.”

  Junior had to watch the relative act the fool in front of the window. The relative was pulling up his filthy socks and knocking the heels of his runover shoes into the ground like he was preparing to climb a mountain. “Fool. Stop it,” Junior told him. “Get on in there. Get in before I send you home.”

  The relative backed off from Junior. Scared he would be left all by himself, he was able to climb into the window and into the sling. Once in the sling, he waited for the ride to begin.

  “Time,” Buddy said, after a moment. He focused the light on the empty sling as Mr. Pool turned the crank which began the process of lowering the sling to the basement floor.

  When Mr. Pool had brought the sling up again, Buddy flashed the light on Junior.

  “Time,” he said to Junior.

  Junior made the windowsill and holding himself tight as he could, he lowered himself into the sling with the help of Buddy and Mr. Pool.

  “Just hold on to either side at the top,” Mr. Pool told Junior. “Sit as still as you can. You may bump the wall once or twice but it ain’t going to hurt.”

  Halfway down Junior saw all those figures in the soft glow of candlelight.

  “More relatives?” he said to the thing waiting for him.

  “You brothers is lookin’ forty mile, too,” the thing told him.

  “Didn’t know I had some brothers,” Junior said back to him. “Go on and sit down, fool.” The relative strutted to the nearest wall. He sat himself neatly down, like he wasn’t sick or anything.

  Watching, Nightman and Franklin sat close together in the glow of the patio light on the table. For half an hour they’d listened and strained through the dark trying to hear what Tomorrow Billy was doing. Now they watched, fascinated, as this unbelievable fat boy came riding down on this sling, talking to himself a mile a minute.

  “He got to weigh three hundred pound,” Franklin whispered, as Junior, still talking, heaved himself out of the sling.

  Nightman said nothing. He watched the huge fat boy hurl himself away from the mountain of debris on one side and the table on the other, over to the wall near where some new boys were sitting. The new boys moved just their heads to look at Junior. They saw how well Junior was dressed. They saw he was talking to someone unseen by them. Still, loose and ready, they kept their eyes on him.

  Nightman and Franklin turned from the fat boy to see what else would happen up above them. They both wore green shawls, crocheted and delicately braided at neck and wrist. The shawls were warmer than they looked; Nightman’s had no opening down the front. It pulled on over his head like a long nightshirt. He had used most of the spool of green string he had found on himself and Franklin. And he had bought four balls of twine to make heavy pullovers. Or, if he could, he would combine the balls of twine to make Tomorrow Billy the prettiest coat anybody ever did see.

  From the window opening above came that sling carrying an old guy whose head was completely bald. The old guy looked straight at Nightman, grinning from ear to ear. He held onto the sling with one hand while clutching this great, long box tightly on his lap with the other.

  It’s all true, thought Mr. Pool. The planet of Tomorrow Billy. To think I could have missed it!

  None of them, not even Franklin, said anything as the old guy carried the long carton to a space just outside the circle of light. Gently he set the box down and carefully positioned himself beside it.

  “Nightman,” Tomorrow Billy called from above. When Nightman heard his name, he moved out of the circle toward the window.

  “Here comes a box of tools,” Buddy told him. “Stay out of its way.”

  Nightman could see the box attached to the hook from which the sling had been suspended.

  “Take the hook out when the box is on the ground,” Buddy told him. Nightman did as he was told and then stood silently as the hook rose again. In a few minutes the hook came down with sacks of food attached. Nightman unhooked them and carried them to the table. Next came a suitcase. When Nightman had taken it over to the file cabinet, he came back to wait for his Billy. He watched as the Billy fitted the planks over the window opening, then stretched his legs out from the sill to grab the rope ladder between his ankles.

  Buddy swung down his rope ladder. He came off the ladder breathing hard. Nightman stood before him, waiting.

  Buddy had to smile. “I see you found what to do with that spool of string,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Nightman said. He smoothed his hand over the shawl’s intricate design he had woven with just his fingers.

  Franklin came silently and stood next to Nightman.

  “That’s about the nicest-looking old string I ever seen,” Tomorrow Billy told them.

  “I tried to make ’em just alike,” Nightman said, “but I’d get to thinking about something and my hands would just go on and make something different.”

  “Don’t ever try to make them just alike,” Buddy said. “Just alike, you got yourself some uniforms and don’t ever start making no uniforms.”

  “Yes, sir, I won’t,” Nightman said.

  “I see we got us a full house,” Buddy said. “You boys will have to help me. When did they get here?” He nodded toward the new boys up from the bridge.

  “Just about right after dark,” Franklin said. “They brought their own food with them and their own sleeping bags.”

  “Good,” Buddy said. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing,” Franklin said. He looked at Nightman.

  Nightman thought a minute. “Just that me and Franklin got along fine,” he said. “We didn’t do nothing wrong. I learn a lot. I got this job sweeping in a meat rendering plant where they make the soap.”

  “He already made ten dollar this week,” Franklin said.

  “We put it into some more food and a little pillow for me.” Shyly Nightman grinned. “I like a pillow but I never did have one until now.”

  “You did fine,” Buddy told them. “Now.” He looked up and around. The boys knew he had dismissed them and they went back to their seats next to the table.

  Silence surrounded Tomorrow Billy as they all waited for him. He came closer to them, stopping at the edge of the light next to the box with the solar system, and Mr. Pool. For a long moment he stared at Junior Brown against the near wall. Junior grinned back at him. He seemed almost peaceful and he was no longer talking.

  Buddy swayed on his feet. Mr. Pool and all the others saw in the forward slump of his shoulders how exhausted he was. But still he stood there, his mind a whir of thoughts as light as feathers floating on air.

  It seemed to Buddy that he had in the room all he needed. There was Junior and Mr. Pool, there was Nightman, Franklin and the other boys, all together, all needing one another and him. He had the solar system. Maybe Mr. Pool would find a way to make it work. Maybe one day Doum Malach could come down and see what they had, see what Buddy had done for himself. Doum would see that he, Buddy, was Tomorrow Billy because he was the strongest and knew best how to survive.

  Something nudged at Buddy deep within his mind. He recalled his first and only Tomorrow Billy and what the Billy had told those of his planet, that they must learn to live for themselves.

  “No,” Buddy said. They all heard him but they listened and waited.

  “We’ll all get to know one another,” Tomorrow Billy said at last. “This here is Mr. Pool. He’s got a surprise there in his box and he is going to help us along from the outside. Over there is Junior. We got to be nice to Junior and maybe we can fix up some old piano we might find for him. When it’s safe, we can have him play for us. Junior can play the piano like nobody. Everybody is to see that Junior doesn’t
hurt himself.

  “Over there is Nightman and Franklin,” the Billy continued. “They been traveling together because Nightman was new with me only a few days ago.”

  Junior studied Buddy’s face glowing with soft light. He laughed to himself, for his mind showed him Buddy swinging wild and cool through city streets. Buddy was waiting outside his house for him. He and Buddy took their time going down to the river. Junior was suddenly happy to remember.

  “Shoot,” the relative told Junior, “don’t you tell that lie. It never was like that.”

  “Never?” Junior said.

  “You just made it up,” the thing said.

  “Like I made you up?” Junior said. The relative said nothing. He became less clear to Junior and somewhat fuzzy around his shoulders. The thing seemed to disappear part way into the wall. Junior rested, letting himself recognize the closeness of all of them together. The sound of Buddy’s voice fell in a pattern of musical notations.

  “We are together,” Buddy told them, “because we have to learn to live for each other.”

  So that was it, he told himself. That was what he had forgotten all these years, or changed with the passage of time to fit with his loneliness. No, his Tomorrow Billy had taught him much more than life as mere survival.

  “If you stay here, you each have a voice in what you will do here. But the highest law for us is to live for one another. I can teach you how to do that.”

  Buddy looked down at Mr. Pool. Their eyes held in a gaze affirming their faith in one another.

  Buddy glanced over at Junior. Seeming to sleep, slumped down in the collar of his raincoat, Junior heard Buddy’s words in music.

  “I’ll help you just as long as you need me to. I am Tomorrow Billy …” His instinct told him what to do as it always did. Buddy’s face glowed with new light “… and … this is the planet of Junior Brown.”

  A Biography of Virginia Hamilton

  Virginia Hamilton (1934–2002) was the author of forty-one books for young readers and their older allies, including M.C. Higgins, the Great, which won the National Book Award, the Newbery Medal, and the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, three of the most prestigious awards in youth literature. Hamilton’s many successful titles earned her numerous other awards, including the international Hans Christian Andersen Award, which honors authors who have made exceptional contributions to children’s literature, the Coretta Scott King Award, and a MacArthur Fellowship, or “Genius Award.”

  Virginia Esther Hamilton was born in 1934 outside the college town of Yellow Springs, Ohio. She was the youngest of five children born to Kenneth James and Etta Belle Perry Hamilton. Her grandfather on her mother’s side, a man named Levi Perry, had been brought to the area as an infant probably through the Underground Railroad shortly before the Civil War. Hamilton grew up amid a large extended family in picturesque farmlands and forests. She loved her home and would end up spending much of her adult life in the area.

  Hamilton excelled as a student and graduated at the top of her high school class, winning a full scholarship to Antioch College in Yellow Springs. Hamilton transferred to Ohio State University in nearby Columbus, Ohio, in order to study literature and creative writing. In 1958, she moved to New York City in hopes of publishing her fiction. During her early years in New York, she supported herself with jobs as an accountant, a museum receptionist, and even a nightclub singer. She took additional writing courses at the New School for Social Research and continued to meet other writers, including the poet Arnold Adoff, whom she married in 1960. The couple had two children, daughter Leigh in 1963 and son Jaime in 1967. In 1969, the family moved to Yellow Springs and built a new home on the old Perry-Hamilton farm. Here, Virginia and Arnold were ableto devote more time to writing books.

  Hamilton’s first published novel, Zeely, was published in 1967. Zeely was an instant success,winning a Nancy Bloch Award and earning recognition as an American Library Association Notable Children’s Book. After returning to Yellow Springs with her young family, Hamilton began to write and publish a book nearly every year. Though most of her writing targeted young adults or children, she experimented in a wide range of styles and genres. Her second book, The House of Dies Drear (1968), is a haunting mystery that won the Edgar Allan Poe Award. The Planet of Junior Brown (1971) and Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush (1982) rely on elements of fantasy and science fiction. Many of her titles focus on the importance of family, including M.C. Higgins, the Great (1974) and Cousins (1990). Much of Hamilton’s work explores African American history, such as herfictionalized account Anthony Burns: The Defeat and Triumph of a Fugitive Slave (1988).

  Hamilton passed away in 2002 after a long battle with breast cancer. She is survived by her husband Arnold Adoff and their two children.

  For further information, please visit Hamilton’s updated and comprehensive website: www.virginiahamilton.com

  A twelve-year-old Hamilton in 1948, when she was in the seventh grade.

  Hamilton at a New York City club while she was a student at Antioch College in the mid-1950s. She often performed as a folk and jazz vocalist in clubs and larger venues.

  Hamilton with her brothers, Buster and Bill, and sisters, Barbara and Nina, around 1954.

  Hamilton’s head shots. The first was taken while she was a teenager in the early 1950s. The second was taken in her New York City apartment in the late 1960s, before she and Adoff built their house in Yellow Springs.

  Hamilton outside of her first New York City apartment, which she shared with Adoff, around 1960. The couplemoved to a below-street-level single room on Jane Street and, Adoff says, “thought we were such hot stuff, living in the Village and taking our places in that wonderful and long line of writers banging their heads against the wall…but in style.”

  Adoff and Hamilton in Gibraltar in 1960, after a hard day of shopping and climbing the rock seen in the photo. As Adoff recalls, “This was the first time I convinced Virginia to sell everything but the books and leave America forever. It was also our delayed honeymoon. We made our way from Bremen to Paris to Málaga to a residency in Torremolinos, Spain, where we worked on our manuscripts and took side trips. This was one of them.”

  Taken in 1965 in Argelès-plage, France, this photo shows the building where Hamilton and Adoff rented an apartment during what Adoff calls their “second time leaving America forever…”

  Hamilton, Jaime, and Leigh at a reception at the Yellow Springs Public Library in 1975 after she received the Newbery Medal.

  Hamilton at the publication party for Jaguarundi. She attended hundreds of conferences and book signings at schools and libraries around the country as each of her books was published.

  Hamilton, Adoff, Leigh, and Jaime at Leigh’s wedding in Berlin in 2001.

  Hamilton on Thanks giving in 2001. This photo was taken by her niece, Nina Rios, a professional photographer, after Hamilton’s last round of chemotherapy, only a few months before her death.

  All photos © 2011 by the Arnold Adoff Revocable Living Trust. Used by permission. Portrait courtesy of Jimmy Byrge.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  copyright © 1971, 1999 by Virginia Hamilton Adoff

  cover design by Georgia Morrissey

  ISBN: 978-1-4532-1379-7

 
This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media

  180 Varick Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com