Banana Man (a Novella) (8 page)

Danny tried to
wedge his muddy bike through the front door but the postal worker behind the service counter shouted, “Hey! Leave that bike outside!”

Danny always locked his bike wherever he went. He was careful that way. And if he couldn’t lock it, he left it within eyeshot. At the moment he couldn’t do either since his lock was at home on the kitchen table. He wasn’t too happy about that, but there wasn’t much he could do.

He leaned his bike against the outside wall near the front door, right beside the line of customers. It would only take a minute to check the mail, and there were lots of people outside. They would watch it.

Inside, there were four customer service windows. One was open. A line of thirty annoyed customers stretched from the lone window to out the front door.

Danny was glad he wasn’t waiting in line.

Some of the folks noticed Danny was covered in mud. They didn’t comment. They just looked him up and down. Some smiled. As he walked, a path opened up before him. Apparently nobody wanted to brush up against a muddy kid.

Danny made his way over to the P.O. boxes. He stood on the tips of his toes and stuck the key into box #407 and opened it. At first glance it appeared empty. Then he jumped so he could see inside, and caught a glimpse of blue. He poked a couple fingers in and slid out a blue slip. It read: Pick Up Mail At Service Window.

“Dang,” he said to himself. It looked like he would be waiting in line after all.

As he started to go outside to join the back of the line, a postal employee stepped from a side door. He asked everyone, “Anyone just picking up mail? Not making a purchase?”

Danny raised his hand. The employee noted him and then stepped halfway out the front door and asked everyone outside, “Anyone just picking up mail?” Nobody answered. The postman waved for Danny to follow him to the side door, and then he snatched the blue slip from Danny’s hand.

Danny felt relieved at not having to stand in line. If he had to wait like everyone else, thirty minutes or so would have gone by before he left the post office. He wondered if maybe his luck was changing.

Danny watched the people in line while he waited.

A businessman whistled a quiet tune to himself, and kept glancing at his watch and tapping a stack of letters he held in one hand. The fat lady behind him wore open toed sandals. She shifted her big body from one chubby-toed foot to the other, and shook her head at nobody in particular. She whispered to anyone that made eye contact with her, “I got to go. I don’t have time for this.”

The postal worker returned with a bundle of mail and asked, “Are you Steve Zuco?”

“That’s my dad,” Danny said. “He sent me to get the mail.”

The man noticed Danny was covered in mud. He grinned at the young boy’s adventurous appearance. “Looks like you’re having a fun day.”

“Not really,” Danny said. He read the man’s name tag: MANAGER.

The man lifted a white envelope. “This one needs your dad’s signature.”

Two overweight women came through the front door and pushed their way through the customers. They were postal workers. One of them whispered something funny to the other, and then both snickered and tried to keep their laughter in check.

The man helping Danny made direct eye contact with them. He was clearly displeased. “Ladies! Lunch ended thirty minutes ago.” He tapped his watch at them several times.

One of them said defensively, “It’s not our fault! They stopped traffic for a bulldozer. We got stuck for twenty minutes.”

The line of waiting customers let out a collective sigh at the arrival of additional employees. They knew they would soon be helped. The long wait was coming to an end.

While the manager glared menacingly at the two workers, both women squeezed passed him and through the side door. A moment later they sat behind the counter at their stations, and began helping customers.

The manager maintained his disapproving glare until they were each helping someone. At that point he seemed satisfied with his role as an angry boss and returned his attention to Danny with a smile. “Where were we?” he said, and then remembered just as quickly, snapping a finger in the air and pointing at Danny. “Signature. Right. What’s your phone number? I’ll call your dad.” Danny gave him the number, and the man said, “Be right back.”

Danny waited patiently for several minutes.

With two additional clerks, things sped up, and the line of customers diminished. It wouldn’t be much longer before the line was completely gone.

The manager returned awhile later. “I talked to your dad. I think I woke him up. He said you can sign for it.” He slid a signature card across the counter. Danny grabbed a pen that was chained to a metallic base and signed the card. The manager handed over a large bundle of mail. He pointed at the letter on top. “That one required the signature. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t, sir.”

As Danny inserted the bundle of mail into his backpack, the rubber band holding it all together snapped, and all the pieces dumped inside into one big mess. At least the mail fell into his backpack and not all over the floor. He was thankful for that.

When he turned to leave, the line of people was gone. Only one person was in the room with him. The teenage girl stood at the counter digging through her purse, trying to find change. She was buying a single stamp.

Danny stepped outside. Strips of sunlight snuck through the grey clouds and shined in his eye. He liked it. He hoped the rains were gone for the day. It would make for an easier ride home.

He turned to grab his bike but it was gone. A trail of muddy tire tracks led away from the front of the post office. He followed after them. They led around the back of the building and into the empty field. Danny kept following until he stood at the edge of the dirt lot. The tire tracks continued, winding their way down a path that went into the forest.

Someone had stolen his bike. After a moment thinking about that, he realized Peter and Justin were nowhere to be seen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Breaking The Law

Danny began the long walk down the highway toward the
traffic signal.

He couldn’t help but think about his mom when he thought of his bike. She gave it to him for his birthday. It was another one of her fun gifts. Although he knew there was nothing he could do about it, he still felt frustrated. Maybe a little angry too. For a moment, he thought about throwing rocks at passing cars, like Peter and Justin, but he quickly dismissed that as a dumb idea. He knew the difference between right and wrong. Busting someone’s windshield wouldn’t bring his bike back. It was gone, probably forever. Danny wished he could go back in time and take back what he said to Peter. Maybe they wouldn’t have stolen his bike if he hadn’t made Peter angry. The boys were probably taking turns riding it and laughing about how they stole it while he was inside the post office.

The return trip home was going to take much longer on foot, and that meant it would take much longer to get to Cleary’s Market. Buying Banana Man and framing it and hanging it on his bedroom wall would have to wait a while longer.

He was glad he talked to Farmer Cleary about holding a copy of Banana Man for him. Then again, that old farmer loved to sell the comics the day they arrived. Keeping the shelves empty and the magazine rack clear was always Mr. Cleary’s first priority. If Chris made it to Cleary’s Market before Danny and asked for Banana Man, Mr. Cleary would probably sell it to him without hesitation.

Danny stopped walking for a moment and thought about that, and quickly came to a realization: Mr. Cleary wouldn’t keep his promise. He would sell the issue to the first boy who offered him a buck for it. That was the real truth of it.

Losing his bike was bad enough, but it would be even worse to lose his bike
and
the second issue of Banana Man on the same day.

He glanced back at the railroad tracks. He hadn’t walked very far yet. If he crossed over the highway and back over the train tracks, and then cut through Tucker Street Alley one more time, there was a chance he might make it to Cleary’s before his friend Chris. Granted, it was a mighty slim chance, but what did he have to lose? If he could get there first, Mr. Cleary wouldn’t be tempted to sell the last copy to someone else. Danny decided it was worth the risk.

As casually as he could, he scouted the streets and the small shopping center for any sign of Officer Tibbs. He didn’t see any police cars, and there were no trains coming down the tracks. He checked both directions of the highway for traffic, and there was none. No cops in sight and no cars on the highway and no trains on the tracks. It was the perfect moment to make a run for it, and he did.

The little boy covered in mud and wearing a backpack full of mail dashed across the highway and up the gravel slope and across the railroad tracks. He kept on running for two blocks until he reached the beginning of Tucker Street Alley. He didn’t glance over his shoulder once. He ran as fast as his little legs would take him, and that was pretty fast. At least he thought so.

For the second time that afternoon, he had broken the law and trespassed on railroad property. His stomach felt a little queasy about that, and the thought of defying Officer Tibbs made him nervous. If Tibbs saw him he would give him a ticket for sure, and Danny’s dad would be angry. But it looked like he made it okay. There were no police cars in sight.

Danny halted at the beginning of Tucker Street Alley and took several measured breaths. If he relaxed for a minute or two and caught his wind, he figured he could make another sprint through the entire length of the alley, or at least most if it. Hopefully he could blaze right passed the bushes, and Charlie the dog wouldn’t have enough free chain to catch him in time.

He took a few cautious steps into the mouth of the alley and scanned ahead, mentally charting the path he would take. It looked like a clear shot. If he skirted along the edge he could avoid the deepest part of the mud which was at the very center of the alley. The firm ground would offer steady footing which would help him get to the other side faster.

Danny had just begun his trek into the alley when he stopped just as suddenly. The dog’s owner – the sleazy, skinny man with thinning hair – sat on a dirty lawn chair near the bushes. He held a can of beer in one hand, and in the other he swung something metallic that winked in the sunlight. He watched Danny from across the alley. He’d probably been staring at Danny the moment he came within view, and that was a little unsettling to the boy.

Sitting in the chair the way he did, relaxed with a can of beer and his bare feet kicked out, it was almost like he was waiting for Danny to return. Even worse, Danny sensed the man was actually glad to see him. He had a wicked grin on his face, and he nodded at Danny when their eyes met, like greeting an old adversary across the battlefield.