CHAPTER 6
We arrived at my house, said hi to my Mom, and went to the teepee.
"The eighth meeting of the Dream Club is now called to order," I said, after we were all settled.
"We don't have enough, Eddie," Mary said, as she counted the money again.
"Hmmm." We sat and thought for a while.
"My Mom owes me my allowance," I said, "that will be three dollars."
"Good," Mary said, "now we'll have twenty-eight."
We sat and thought some more.
Mikey spoke. "Why don't we start a window-washing business? Old Man Faraday wants me to wash his windows, but I've been putting him off."
The idea grew in our minds. I left, asked Mom if she had window cleaner, and collected my allowance while I was there.
When I came back, the Tightwads had made this thing into a mega-business that would make us a million bucks.
"Whoa," I said, "we just need seven more dollars."
Mary gave me a dirty look. "Think big, Eddie, we still have to buy the big screen and go to Disneyland."
She had a point.
We started at Old Man Faraday's house, after we'd collected window cleaner and paper towels.
Ring, ring. He opened the door and looked shocked to see us standing there.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said.
His house smelled funny, like someone had cooked cabbage in there and not opened a window for three years afterwards.
We told him about needing money and the window washing, and we arrived at a five dollar price for cleaning all the windows.He sat on his porch and rocked while we worked our butts off doing his windows. He was a man of few words, 'fire department' being one of them.
When we were done, Mrs. Faraday called us to come in for milk and cookies. We didn't see Mrs. Faraday out and about much. She moved around her kitchen slowly. Mom said she had arthritis.
The cookies were a little stale, but anything would have tasted good to us by that point.
"Well," she said, as we sat munching, "what are you children going to do with five whole dollars?"
Mikey choked on his cookie, and I thought, lady, do you have any idea how much sneakers cost these days? I looked at her feet. Nope, she was definitely not a sneaker wearer.
Mary spoke, "We're trying to go to Disneyland, ma'am."
I was glad she hadn't explained about the sneakers. Disneyland was something the old woman would understand.
"Why, isn't that just wonderful?" Old Lady Faraday gushed.
We finished up, and went on down the street. All together that day we made twenty dollars. Enough to get the sneakers and enough for a good start on Disneyland.
We headed for the Mall, trying to get there fast so we'd have time to drop the sneakers off at Stinky's house before dark.
Mr. Slick was still on duty at the shoe store. He ignored us again, and that really made me mad. I walked up to him. "We'd like a pair of men's sneakers, size nine."
Mary followed me and said, "The ones with the pump, please."
Turning back to his counter work, he said disdainfully, "My cheapest pair of pump sneakers run forty-five dollars."
"That's fine," said Mary with authority, "go get them please."
He turned around, and I gave him my sweetest smile. "You heard the lady," I told him, "do you want our business or what?"
By that time, Mary had the money out and was counting it. He suddenly seemed more interested.
"I'll be right back," he told us, in a more civil tone.
"What a jerk," Mary said to Mikey under her breath.
The buying of the sneakers didn't leave us much money in the Club Treasury, but I supposed we could always wash more windows.
We pedaled hard over to Taft Street, and all of us noticed the difference in the neighborhood from ours. Guys wore their baseball caps backwards, and hung out on the street corners, making fun of us as we rode by. There was graffiti on the brick walls, and the streets were dirty and littered.
We arrived at Stinky's house and knocked. A big, fat man in his undershirt opened the door. We wrinkled our noses because he smelled like cigarettes and beer. A T.V. blared in the background.
"Is Stinky, I mean Bart here?" I asked him.
"Yeah. HEY, BART, THERE'S SOME KIDS HERE TO SEE YOU."
Bella had nothing on this guy. I wondered if fat people always talked like a sonic boom.
"Okay, Dad," I heard Stinky answer.
This was Stinky's Dad? I really felt sorry for him then. He might be a good Dad, but I doubted it. The man plopped himself on the easy-chair, and continued to watch T.V. and drink beer.
Stinky came to the door, and looked amazed to see us there.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," we all said.
He came out on the balcony, and closed the door to his apartment.
"Bart," I began, "we've decided to let you in the Club."
His face lit up, and I could tell he was trying to act cool instead of excited.
"Okay," he said casually.
Then, I was at a loss for words, which doesn't happen too often. If we gave him the sneakers, he might think we felt sorry for him. We did, but we didn't want him to know that.
Mary spoke. "We always give a gift to new members. But it has to be something they really need. Mikey said you needed sneaks, so we got you some. Here," she thrust the box at him. Bless this little girl, she had a brain that was unmatched in the annals of history.
"Wow," he said, as he opened the box.
"They're the pump kind," Mikey added.
Then, a really strange thing happened. Stinky's face screwed up, and he started crying really loud, right there on the balcony. We looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Mary reached up and patted him on the back.
He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Where was Bill and his handkerchiefs when we really needed him?
"Thanks you guys," he blubbered. Then he stopped crying. "So," he said, "when's the next club meeting?"
I told him we didn't really have any set times for the meetings, they just sort of happened. "Can we call you when we're having one?" I said.
He looked at the nubby stuff on the balcony floor. "We don't have a phone," he said quietly.
"Well," I said, "there's one tonight. Why don't you sleep over at my house, and we can do the initiation?" I didn't think my Mom would mind. She was pretty good about stuff like that.
"Cool," he said. "What's the initiation?"
"Don't worry," Mikey said, "it's nothing bad."
I heard Stinky ask his Dad about staying overnight at my house. I thought he said, "I don't care," but he may have said "take care."
Mikey rode Stinky back to the house on his handlebars, because Stinky doesn't have a bike. How can a kid not have a bike? I thought every kid had a bike. This was news to me. This really had turned out to be an interesting day.