The Wall

47

Willie hit his club into his left hand. He knew he did that too often. A habit that had already caused a thin callus to build up. However, whenever he stood spread-legged in front of a young black man, he made an impression doing it. That much was obvious.

The rich have it good, he thought, as he sat down on the little wall. These large houses with their neat lawns. Compared to his tiny place in Stoney Drift… it wasn’t fair. It had been years since he’d had enough left over to stick into the house. Then again, who in that shabby neighborhood did? Except for a few coloreds who’d been moving into the settlement in increasing numbers in recent years.

I’ve had to cut corners on cigarettes, too, Willie thought as he lit a Chesterfield.

The nanny was playing ball with the little boy. Looked ridiculous. She walked up to the ball and kicked it hard. Much too far for the little boy. The rich did indeed have it good. Someone was always there for their kids. Although… He never would have trusted his children to a black woman. They were all with Janice now anyway, the cow.

“Oh! The ball’s gone now,” the dumb nanny said. “Who’s going to get the ball for us?” she asked annoyingly.

Considering how fat she was, it would probably take years if she did it herself. The little boy stared into the sky. Willie inhaled deeply one more time before getting to his feet. It was time to find that bastard anyway. He held the smoke in his lungs until he reached the ball and then exhaled it slowly. He very carefully kicked the ball to the boy who was laughing at him.

“Look!” the nanny said as she raised her hands. “What a nice man!”

The guy was nowhere in sight. Willie turned around a couple of times before walking up the street. They would catch him, of course. He wouldn’t get away from here all that easily.

A couple of Central Alert people were waiting for him at the exit. And there was no way he was going to make it over the wall.