A Bandit's Tale by Deborah Hopkinson

Author:Deborah Hopkinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2016-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Containing a storm so terrible that the reader cannot laugh even once through the entire chapter

Poor Officer Reilly!

He’d been taken in. Taken in by my innocent face and polite speech. He didn’t realize how well Tony had trained me to fool a sucker. I hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble because of me. After all, boys tried to escape all the time.

Most, like Pug, George, and Jimmy, didn’t make it. Around Christmas, a boy in my dormitory had tried to go over the wall, but broke his leg jumping off on the other side. Pug had told us about an inmate who managed to swim across the Bronx Kill. A week later, he made the mistake of visiting an old friend who’d been arrested. In the police station, a copper overheard him bragging to his friend about his daring escape. He was nabbed right then and there.

No one, though, had ever done what I was attempting: to get away in the midst of a ferocious storm. The strong gusts almost blew my cap away, and I had to try to stuff it in my pocket without letting go of the oars. The water was dark and wild. It started to sprinkle, but those clouds looked so heavy I felt sure they would burst over my head anytime now. And it didn’t help that I had no idea how to row a boat and keep it pointed in the right direction—away from the House of Refuge.

—

But I did it. By the time I reached the dock on the Manhattan side of the Harlem River, my hands and face stung with cold, though at least I still felt a little warm from my struggle to get across.

Luckily, no one saw me tie up the boat. I stashed the oars inside, hoping they wouldn’t be stolen. That would just make Officer Reilly more upset. As I walked away from the wharf, I considered getting rid of my telltale House of Refuge gray coat. But the wind was too fierce. Besides, I figured it wouldn’t be noticed on such a stormy Sunday.

I’d landed at the pier at 118th Street. By the time I walked over to Fifth Avenue, the sprinkles had turned to light rain and the light rain had become a downpour. My plan was to walk south along the east boundary of Central Park and head toward Little Italy. I was more than a hundred and thirty blocks—seven miles, I guessed—from the alley near Mulberry and Hester Streets where I’d hidden my four dollars.

At least, I wasn’t worried about getting lost. Even though New York City is enormous, it’s easy to find your way around because it’s laid out like a grid. Numbered streets run horizontally across the island, east to west. The lower numbers are in the southern part. The avenues run up and down, north to south. The blocks between the avenues take longer to walk across since they’re much wider.

(If you’ve been here yourself, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

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