The Planet of Junior Brown (19 page)

“Now,” Mr. Pool said, “once Junior is sitting on the sill, we're going to shine the light down in there so he can get in the sling seat.”

“Okay now, Junior,” Buddy said, his voice soft, like a purr, “you come on over here.”

Junior stood, a great hulk of darkness against the building opposite Mr. Pool and Buddy. He didn't move.

“I'll bring him over,” Mr. Pool said.

“No,” Buddy told him. “He's waiting for me to do it.” Buddy went over and took Junior by the arm.

Buddy felt Junior tense his body. “Okay, brother,” Buddy said, “I'm going to lead you over to that window. All right. Take it easy now. Easy, Junior.”

Buddy had Junior's arm and was steering Junior to the window. “Now, kneel down,” Buddy told him. “You got to get in that opening and sit there and then you got to ease down into a sling Mr. Pool fixed up just for you. You can't see the sling from here because it's inside and below us in the dark. But we'll shine the flashlight down and you'll be able to see.”

Obediently Junior allowed Mr. Pool and Buddy to lift him into the opening where the window had been.

“Shine the flashlight down from over his head,” Mr. Pool told Buddy, “I'll keep hold on him as he slides down into the sling.”

Buddy shone the light clear down on the sling and down to the basement floor. When Junior saw the distance below him, he hurled back in terror, knocking Buddy out of the way and falling out of the window onto the ground.

“Awh, Junior,” Buddy said. “It's nothing. That sling is going to hold you. Mr. Pool fixed it himself.”

“How far is home?” Junior said, these words the first he had spoken to them in all this time.

Mr. Pool and Buddy lifted Junior to a sitting position. They brushed off his raincoat as best they could. “Junior,” Mr. Pool said, “do you want me to take you home?”

“He knows he can't go home. He don't mean it like that,” Buddy said. “Listen,” he said to Junior, “home is never far. You can always think about how close it is whenever you get homesick. It's just up and over town. Your maw hasn't gone no place. She's all right, you know that, because she's got the medicine and the oxygen. She knows you're O.K., too. But it never was your job to do, Junior. See, because it has to be your daddy's job to take care of her. Should have been, a long time ago to start. And your daddy's going to be home tomorrow. Your maw will be all right. You won't be far from her, Junior. Home is never far.”

“I want him to go first,” Junior said. He looked around behind him to the opposite wall where he had been standing.

It was Buddy who realized Junior meant for the relative to get into the sling and go down into the basement before he did.

“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.