Whistles and Caramels
Oh, what joy! What completely inexpressible, indescribable joy to float down the city street without a care in the world and a new shining penny in your pocket. Laurie felt for the front of her apron again, lest her riches bounce out of her newly-sown pocket and into the gutter for a greedy child to steal. Oh no, this penny was hers, all hers, and she was free to spend it as she wished.
Who knew that Teacher would give a prize for the best-written composition in the class? Laurie had stayed up late until the wicker candle burned low in the bowl and her eyes were red-rimmed. But what did it matter now? Teacher hadn’t cared that Laurie yawned while turning in the piece. The other children certainly hadn’t faired much better, what with their faces dirty with soot having skipped the morning’s washing to complete their own compositions. Laurie laughed in delight at the memory of Teacher sending Timothy to the washroom, complaining that she couldn’t tell which student he was for his face was covered in smuts.
But, this was no matter. Laurie’s braids were neatly pinned round her head and lay shining like the penny in her pocket. Her dress was crisp, and her petticoat crisp underneath, and her bloomers fresh from the clothing line. She paused for a moment on the sidewalk beside a rare shoot of grass, leaning over to examine her reflection in her brightly polished kid shoes. Yes, she decided, she certainly looked more grown-up with money to spend and an award-winning composition sitting on Teacher’s desk in a place of honor. She continued to skip merrily, hardly noticing the women with cheeks colored with dark rouge who stared enticingly at passing gentleman. Laurie only had eyes for the small shop in the distance, its red and white awnings signaling an oasis in the gray that always seemed to encompass the afternoon of New York City.
She glanced behind her, barely seeing her classmates walking forlornly, dejectedly, toward the same candy paradise of Sweeney’s Candy Shoppe, run by a jolly fat man who was generally good-natured, especially toward the pretty things that entered his store to gape at the heaps of candy. So often would a young girl stare at his colorful displays that he would pinch her cheek and give her a piece of stale chocolate. And for this, the children were grateful, for they never had a coin of their own to spend, let alone time to make themselves pinching-worthy.
But Laurie had a coin, oh yes, a coin of her own, and soon she forgot about the poor children with no money at all and dashed on toward Sweeney’s, fist clenching tight her apron and her dress flying up in the back. “Such wonder,” she thought, of feeling so rich. Why, I should feel this rich always,” repeating this as a rhythm and mantra to her steps across Eighth Avenue. She did not give the other children another thought.
Laurie reached Sweeney’s breathless, stopping for a moment to smooth the wrinkles out of her apron and tease a piece of hair back into place, for perhaps Sweeney was in one of his jolly moods and would give Laurie both a piece of free chocolate and candy for her penny. She grasped the door handle, enjoying the feeling of smooth metal in her sweaty palm. The indentation of the penny remained in her hand. Pulling open the door, she listened for the sweet tinkle of the bell, alerting the robust storeowner of a customer’s presence. Soon enough, Sweeney ambled from the back storage room, glancing at Laurie for a moment before settling his great girth down on the stool by the register.
“Ack, she’ll take her time looking,” he muttered to himself, “Why should I not allow the child a bit of pleasure by enjoying my shop when she has no money to purchase such things?”
And so Laurie looked. And she looked and looked and looked, hardly registering the constant tinkling of the bell as her classmates poured into the store in the hopes of a free chocolate, their only hope for candy. Of course, they would endure the cheek-pinching for something so heavenly. But Laurie had to endure no such thing. She was rich, a queen, and she made the fellow children know it by lifting her nose when walking by, refusing the time to squeak out an “Excuse me!” when a little girl blocked an aisle she wished to peruse. Oh, what a game it was. What a fun, fun game that she wished to play for the rest of eternity. The other children glared.
Finally, Laurie’s eyes settled on something wonderful. How could she have missed it before? Chewy caramels, coated with both light and dark chocolate! A candy with two different flavors that would last her a week at least! They could be sucked delightfully at night, as she lay in her warm bed, toes stretching deliciously toward the flatiron Mama always placed at the foot of her coverlet. Or she could chomp noisily while sitting on her stoop, legs crossed like the ladies in the moving pictures, and stare solemnly at the girls playing at hopscotch near the street. Their hair would be windswept, eyes bright with excitement and energy like new marbles, but oh no. Laurie would be the picture of an heiress. She decided this as she scooped a handful of caramels into her bag, stepping carelessly around the hoards of children as she picked her way toward the register.
“Oh, c’mon Laurie! Gimme half yur penny for a bit ‘er broken crackers, yeah? Whatcha need all those car’mels for, anyways?”
“You’ll give me a piece of your candy, oh won’t you, Laurie?” a classmate of hers pleaded, hands clasped and eyes wide.
“I haven’t had a penny of my own in the longest time, and besides, it was my composition that won. I’m going to get my own candy and eat it too. It’s my prize. Teacher said it was my prize!” Laurie responded airly, shooing off the wave of boys snatching at her caramel bag.
She, having finally reached old Sweeney, plunked down her caramels in front of the surprised man. She then glanced up at him, preparing herself for a cheek-pinching. But none came. He was too shocked.
“Say now, little lady,” he said finally, looking down at the little girl behind his spectacles. “Where d’you suppose you got the money to buy these here candies? Steal somethin’, did ya?” He looked at her suspiciously, attempting to detect a shiftiness behind her long eyelashes.
“No, sir,” Laurie replied truthfully, “I got this here penny as a prize from Teacher!” She fished the shiny penny out of her pocket, still warm from her apron pocket. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Old Sweeney agreed that, indeed, it was amazing. He took the penny from Laurie, and handed her a bagful of heaven in return. Such a good trade, Laurie decided, staring at the mound of candy that was rightfully hers. She was hardly wistful for the shining copper of the penny, the smooth indentation of the great seal of the United States. She waltzed out the tinkling door without a second glance, singing a tune she had learned that day from weekly music class as she scrambled to her stoop to admire her prize.
An hour or so later, judging by the sun’s progress across the gray sky, Laurie’s classmates ambled by her stoop, laughing and jostling eachother as they prepared a game of stickball. Laurie raised her eyebrows at them, waggling her ears to produce a laugh that usually erupted from the group, but none came. She cast her empty bag aside, having eaten two weeks’ worth of candy in one sitting, and jumped down the two steps leading toward the street. She stood in front of the group, waving her hands idly, then faster and faster as the children neglected to produce a response. They continued choosing their teams, and began to play in the street.
“What’s the matter with y’all?” Laurie cried, running into the middle of the game. “Didn’t y’all hear me? I said I wanted to play!”
Having forgotten her earlier oath to sit serenely on the steps and watch the other children in disgust, Laurie marched up to each child in turn, each of whom promptly stuck their tongues out of their mouths and turned their backs on her. Forlorn, Laurie made her way back to the stoop, hunched over with head in hands, and watched the children play. She was an outcast, she realized, for celebrating her prize in front of the other children. “How could I have been so foolish?” she wondered to herself in amazement. “Perhaps this is what Papa meant about paying too much for a whistle.” Now, she understood.
