Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 17, No. 4, April 1972

A Mutual Understanding by James McKimmey

It takes but one friend to help a nobody become a somebody.

“I don’t want to do it,” Eddie Barrett said, staring from the near darkness of an alley into the old woman’s small livingroom.

“You have to!” said one of Eddie’s two companions — an exceedingly tall boy for his thirteen years, with long legs, long arms and long fingers, all of which had contributed to his nickname of Monkey.

“I just don’t want to,” Eddie pleaded.

“Now listen,” said the third youth, this one a fourteen-year-old called Piggo, a name derived from his short, fat body and his small, close-set eyes. “It’s a tough planet, a tough town, a tough neighborhood! You’ve got to learn how to be hard as diamonds, hard as granite! So you don’t want to be a Blue anymore, is that it?”

Eddie stared at Piggo, who was president of the Blue Monsters, and wagged his head in distress. “But I want to be a Blue!”

Eddie was neither tall nor short for his age. He seemed to blend into shadows and disappear, although that was only an illusion. He certainly did exist, and now they were asking him to do this.

“It’s just that I don’t want to do it,” Eddie repeated plaintively.

He really didn’t, despite the fact that Mrs. Scrant, the old woman in the livingroom who sat like a shawled skeleton on this spring evening, was mostly mean-tempered to anyone who came into her sweets shop behind which she lived. She complained and sneered and insulted while she extracted every penny due her. No matter how much anyone pleaded and begged, she would never give him an extra piece of candy — unless it was Eddie.

Curiously, she had always treated him in a different manner — undercharging him at times, sometimes actually giving him a chocolate bar or an ice-cream cone. Perhaps the reason for it, Eddie had sometimes thought, was because they were both lonely in their worlds. She’d been widowed long ago and lived alone now. He’d been orphaned early in his life, and now he lived with an aunt and uncle who wished he didn’t. So whenever they looked at each other, it was perhaps that they somehow understood what they shared — but Eddie, who was only twelve, certainly wasn’t sure.

“If you don’t do it,” Piggo said harshly and angrily, “you’re out!”

Monkey stifled a giggle by pressing a long hand against his mouth. “Out!” he said.

“Are you ready?” Piggo demanded.

Eddie’s shoulders drooped. “I guess.”

“Where’s your stuff?”

“In my pockets.”

“Get it out! Let’s get this done!”

“How do you know that bedroom window’s unlocked?” Eddie asked.

“Because I tested it three minutes ago, dummy! What do you think I was doing over there? Let’s get going!”

Eddie slipped an old pillow case with two holes cut in it over his head and stared miserably out through the holes. Piggo and Monkey masked themselves similarly. Then, when Eddie wouldn’t move, Piggo grabbed one of his arms and yanked him into action.

The three of them ran swiftly to the back of the building, slipped open a window and climbed in. They made their silent way through darkness to a closed door which would lead them into the livingroom. Then Piggo said in a whisper, “Now!”

Fuses of three strings of firecrackers were ignited, the door was thrown open, and the three boys leaped into the old woman’s livingroom, whooping and hooting as firecrackers began exploding around the room.

For Eddie, even though he was yelling and dancing up and down and waving his arms, the moment seemed suspended. He kept staring at Mrs. Scrant even in his motion, seeing that her eyes had become wide and frozen-looking as though she had suddenly died from the shock of the invasion and had not yet fallen. Eddie was frightened.

Then Monkey unbolted her front door, and they ran out of there and down the alley. They didn’t stop until they were blocks away.

“Oh, man!” Monkey said, doubling up and giggling, tears of joy running from his eyes.

“Oh, yeah!” Piggo said, despite his snuffling laughter.

Eddie stared at them for a time, then he turned, shoulders drooping again, and walked slowly away in the direction of home.

“Hey, Eddie!” Monkey called, and then convulsed into laughter again.

“Hey, Eddie!” Piggo managed, and then fell down on his knees in hopeless mirth.

When Eddie stepped into his own livingroom, his aunt and uncle were drinking beer and watching a movie on television. Both were lean and impassive, and they did not look at him as he went through to the hall and climbed the stairs to his small bedroom where he lay on his back on his bed and stared bleakly upward.

He was trembling inside, and he kept thinking of the way Mrs. Scrant had looked.

Finally, he forced himself not to think of that by thinking of the most pleasurable and delicious thought he owned: Mary Ann Thebold.

Mary Ann was fourteen, but she was in his class because she’d skipped a lot of school days to do... what? Eddie didn’t know, although he was certain that it had a lot to do with boys. That didn’t matter, though — the only thing that did was that she was prettier than any girl Eddie had ever seen before. When they were in class, he often failed to concentrate on anything other than her, staring at her so steadily that sometimes she would swing her long, straight hair from side to side to indicate that it made her angry.

Then, after he’d decided to let them initiate him as a Blue Monster, after they’d done all those things to him he wanted to forget, it had been different — because Piggo, who was also two years behind in school, and Monkey, who was one, both had stopped Mary Ann in the schoolyard and pointed to Eddie, telling her that he was now a member of the club.

“Him?” Mary Ann had said incredulously. “He’s a Blue?” But she’d looked at him differently then, altogether differently, so that Eddie had been forced to look down self-consciously at his worn shoes.

He still remembered that look, and he was remembering it now as he tried to forget about the way Mrs. Scrant’s eyes had become wide and frozen when they were jumping around her as the firecrackers exploded. But he couldn’t forget, so he finally got up and went downstairs and picked up the telephone in the livingroom.

Because he sometimes called to find out if she’d gotten in any new ice-cream flavors, he’d memorized her number, which rang in both her shop and house. So he dialed it, and then he was trembling inside again.

After listening to the tenth ring, he was so nervous he could barely hold onto the telephone, but then she answered in her rasping voice. He carefully put the phone down as his uncle called from his chair, “Who were you trying to get a date with, Romeo? Miss America?”

His uncle laughed derisively, and Eddie’s forgettable face colored because he had yet to phone any girl about anything, let alone a date.

“Out, huh?” his uncle called. “Or she knew who was calling and wouldn’t answer. How about that, Romeo?”

Eddie’s aunt giggled softly, then lifted her beer glass.

Eddie picked up the directory and searched until he found the only Thebold listed. He dialed that number, and when a woman answered, he said, “This is Eddie Barrett. May I please speak to Mary Ann?”

Eddie’s uncle suddenly sat up straighter and stared at Eddie, who waited with his heart pounding. Finally Eddie heard, “Yeah?”

“This is Eddie Barrett, Mary Ann.”

“She said that. So what do you want?” Her tone revealed definite irritation.

Eddie swallowed, then managed, “I’d like a date, Mary Ann. Are you busy tomorrow night?”

There was a suspenseful silence, then suddenly Mary Ann began laughing. It kept on until she hung up. Eddie stood staring straight ahead for a moment as his face turned pink, then he put his own phone down.

His uncle started laughing, and his aunt, too. His uncle said, “Struck out, huh? Two tries and you’re already struck out! You’re a Romeo, all right! God’s gift, huh?”

They started laughing again as Eddie trudged upstairs and undressed and got into bed. The last sounds he heard in his mind, just before he went to sleep, were all kinds of laughter — Piggo’s and Monkey’s, his uncle’s and his aunt’s. But mostly he could hear the laughter of Mary Ann, and he knew that she would never again be a pleasurable and delicious thought for him, not ever again.

Because the next day was a Saturday and there was no school, Eddie had sufficient time to study his position. He shut his ears to his uncle’s sardonic barbs, and went mechanically through the chores his aunt insisted he do, but he thought.

When darkness arrived that evening, he walked over to Mrs. Scrant’s shop, knowing that he was almost an hour ahead of her closing time. She stared at him as he came into the shop, as a hawk views its prey before making the dive. He knew then that she knew. It might have been his voice, or the way he’d moved as he’d jumped up and down in her livingroom, but no matter — she knew.

“What do you want?” she asked angrily in her rasping voice.

“Gone.”

“What kind?”

“Double chocolate.”

“Where’s your money?”

So, for the first time, he had to put the money on the counter in front of her before she made the cone for him. Then, when she did, she shorted him on ice cream, which she’d never done before.

“Thank you,” he said.

As he was walking out with the cone in his hand, she called to him: “If you never came back I wouldn’t shed a tear over that, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am,” and left the store.

He nibbled at the cone as he walked slowly over to Blue Street and the old apartment building which housed the headquarters of the club. It was in an otherwise unused room in the basement of the building, and the custodian let them use it for a share of the dues all of them contributed once a month. Eddie went in through the back and down a stairway and knocked on a door five times in the rhythm that would announce to anyone inside that it was a Blue Monster entering.

The only person he saw as he opened the door and went in was Piggo, lying on a cot and reading a horror comic book. He looked at Eddie contemptuously and said, “What are you doing?”

Eddie shrugged. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Chasing girls. Why aren’t you?”

“Why aren’t you?” Eddie replied.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Piggo said. “That’d be arguing with nothing, wouldn’t it?” He continued reading.

“I quit,” Eddie said at last.

“What?” Piggo said, looking at him.

“I quit.”

Piggo frowned, then smiled. “After all we did to you?” He laughed.

Eddie moved back toward the door.

“Oh, yeah!” Piggo said despite his snuffling laughter. “You quit, all right, because you’re weak, huh? You’re so weak somebody’s going to chew you up and swallow you before you know what’s happened! Wait’ll I tell the rest, huh? We’ll have a celebration! Do you hear me? We’ll...”

But Eddie had gone out and shut the door behind him and was going up the stairway, so that Piggo’s words became unintelligible.

Hunching his shoulders, pushing his hands into his pockets, Eddie walked toward the business district of the neighborhood. There was a light, warm breeze, and stars and a white moon shone in the sky. Eddie moved through a small park where there was not much light because somebody had stoned out two lamps there and they hadn’t been fixed yet, but he could smell the bloom of flowers. He liked that, because he knew a corsage for a girl would smell like that, and one day, he promised himself, he would have reason to buy a corsage for a girl.

He went on into the busy area where there were two bars, a clothing store, a restaurant, a delicatessen and a theater. Stepping back into shadows, Eddie stood with his back to a wall and silently watched the people passing.

They were tall, short and medium. They were old, young and medium. Eddie stared at them, wondering if any of them were nice. He hoped all of them were, but he knew that wasn’t true and it made him sad.

He sniffed and rubbed a finger across his nose, and suddenly Monkey was beside him, all arms and legs, grinning widely. “Hey, Eddie!” he said. “Who’re you hiding from this time, Eddie?”

Eddie put his hands back in his pockets and hunched his shoulders again. Then he saw that Mary Ann Thebold was coming down the sidewalk with a fellow who was at least twenty and maybe older. She was laughing and had her arm tightly around his middle.

“Oh, hey there, Mary Ann!” Monkey shouted loudly. “What do you say?”

The older fellow looked coldly into the shadows at both Monkey and Eddie. When Mary Ann recognized them, she swung her hair back and forth and went on with her friend into the theater. The film was rated X, but both were admitted anyway.

“Oh, that Mary Ann!” Monkey said with meaning. “But you didn’t answer me, Eddie. Who’re you hiding from? Somebody scare you, did they?” He giggled, then punched Eddie sharply in the arm.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie said.

“Why not?” He punched Eddie again. “That’s a new club punch, see? You only get to do it to new Blues, see?” He struck Eddie again, harder. “I just made that up, see, Eddie? On account of you’re a new Blue!”

“I’m not a new Blue anymore,” Eddie said, feeling it where Monkey was punching him.

“Why not?”

“I quit.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to belong anymore.”

Monkey shook his head sadly, but he was still grinning. “On account of scaring that old woman last night, huh? Is that it, Eddie?” His eyes shifted suddenly as he looked past Eddie down the street. “Oh, but wow, huh? I mean, look, Eddie. There she is again!”

Eddie looked down the street to see that Mrs. Scrant was coming out of the delicatessen. She’d obviously bought something for dinner, and now she would be retracing her steps in the direction from which Eddie had also come, to go home.

“Oh, jeez,” Monkey said happily, his eyes shining brightly. “Guess what I’m going to do now, Eddie?”

“You leave her alone,” Eddie said.

“Ah, Eddie!”

“I mean it! You leave her alone!”

“So you told me,” Monkey said. “Now let’s see you make me!”

He darted off after the old woman, and Eddie followed, his face flushed with anger.

The old woman was moving surprisingly fast, a dark figure wearing a black shawl and a black scarf. Even Monkey, who moved very quickly, didn’t catch up with her until she was going through the small park, and Eddie was still a half block behind both of them.

There, in the park, Monkey began waving his long arms and running around the old woman, screeching like a crazy animal. Mrs. Scrant stopped and stood frozen. Eddie ran on, determined that, for once in his life, he would fight.

Just as he reached the edge of the park, he saw the old woman’s hand moving. Something glinted as though the moon or a star had been caught in reflection.

Monkey suddenly straightened as though coming to attention, then collapsed to the walk like a rag doll.

The old woman stood looking down at the fallen youth as though dazed now, with her eyes very large. Then she scurried on, obviously in fright, moving much faster than Eddie ever thought she could.

He ran to the sprawled figure of Monkey, who was lying on his back with his eyes open but seeing nothing. Eddie stared down at the moonlit bone handle of a knife protruding from Monkey’s bleeding chest. It had been driven in so hard that a piece of the handle, which had probably been cracked, had come loose and was now on the sidewalk beside the fallen youth.

Eddie stared at the knife handle for several seconds. Then he reached down, jerked the knife out of Monkey’s chest, and ran into the darkness.

When the detective and uniformed officer escorted Eddie into a small squad room, Piggo, who was sitting on a straight wooden chair, suddenly rose and moved toward him with fury in his small eyes. The detective and the uniformed officer stepped ahead of Eddie and threw Piggo back into his chair.

“Stay there now!” the detective said. He was older than the uniformed officer, and heavier, with a meaner eye.

“He lied!” Piggo shouted, pointing at Eddie.

“Keep your voice down!” the detective ordered. Then he took the knife from his pocket and placed it on a table beside the chair where Piggo was sitting. “Yours?” he asked Piggo.

“No!”

“Fingerprints don’t lie.”

“I tell you he came into the club room and handed that thing to me and said I could have it. He wiped it with his handkerchief when he was giving it to me and said he wanted it real nice and clean! Just for me! I’m telling you!” Piggo got up and started for Eddie again, but again they threw him back in the chair.

Then the detective reached into his pocket once more, drew out a small piece of bone and fitted it to the broken handle of the knife. “This was beside the body. So why did you do it?”

“I didn’t!” Piggo roared in outrage.

“Eddie?” the detective said. “Would you know?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Piggo was afraid Monkey would take the presidency away from him. They had a real mean argument earlier, in the club room. I heard it. So I guess Piggo decided to wait for him in the park and then stabbed him the way he did.”

“Lies!” Piggo cried.

“Is it his knife, Eddie?”

“He’s had it a long time,” Eddie said easily, without hesitating.

The detective nodded. “You can go now, Eddie.”

Some time later, Eddie stood inside Mrs. Scrant’s shop where she had instructed him to go when they were done with him at the precinct station. She’d opened up just for him, and now she was making a banana split on a paper dish. There were two bananas, five kinds of ice cream, that many kinds of topping, and whipped cream and cherries. She finally handed it to him, saying, “There you are, Eddie.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Eddie said.

“You come back tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can do then, too. You come back every day, Eddie.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie said.

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes reflecting knowledge and understanding. Then Eddie said, “Good night, Mrs. Scrant.”

Mrs. Scrant said, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie walked out of the shop into the night, eating the banana split, his eyes hard as diamonds, hard as granite.