Stealing Home by Ellen Schwartz

Author:Ellen Schwartz [Schwartz, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-77049-041-3
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2006-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

Hours later, Joey leaned out of his window, resting his elbows on the sill, trying to catch a breeze. He’d been grounded for the rest of the afternoon and all through dinner. He’d eaten another meal alone, from a tray.

The air was still and heavy. Joey fanned his face with his hand. No relief. He leaned out farther. The old woman who lived across the street rocked on her stoop, back and forth, back and forth. A man walked by, his shirt a flag of white in the gathering dusk, his footsteps tapping an even beat. A fragrance of roses drifted up from the neighbor’s garden, the smell of someone’s fish dinner. Joey listened to the evening sounds: mothers calling their kids, crickets singing, the distant rumble of the streetcar. A horn honked, a screen door clicked shut.

Bored, bored, bored. Joey examined his Yankees collection. His team had won again, and he’d added a new clipping, a picture of Snuffy Stirnweiss clouting a home run, the ball a small white blur in the distance, Snuffy looking up with a smile on his face. Joey moved the picture an inch to the left. Straightened his Joe DiMaggio card.

He paced. Ten steps to the door. Ten steps back. Ten steps to the door. Ten steps back.

Downstairs, the radio shut off. Footsteps on the stairs. The sound of a toilet flushing. The house grew quiet.

Joey changed into pajamas. He lay on his bed, hands beneath his head. There was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep. It was all Zeyde’s fault. If his grandfather had only stuck up for him with that woman, he wouldn’t have got into trouble. And then he wouldn’t have been grounded. Then he wouldn’t be so restless.

He sat up. What was he doing in here? There was no way he was staying in this room one more minute, and if his grandfather thought he could make him, he had another think coming. Getting sent to his room never used to keep him in. Why, he’d snuck along the ledge from the bathroom window to the fire escape outside Mama’s apartment so many times that his footprints were practically etched into the stone.

So why not here? He could sneak out and sneak back in before anyone knew. Get a breath of fresh air, stretch his legs, see the stars. And besides, he’d get back at Zeyde.

Joey tiptoed to the door. All quiet. But what if the stairs squeaked? No, better not risk it. He turned and eyed the window. A better bet. He eased the sash up higher and squeezed out onto the roof. It sloped gently toward the street. Not too steep. He’d been on worse. He squatted there. All quiet. Dark. Good. He crept over the peak, around to the back of the house. Carefully he sat down and dangled his feet over the roof ledge. This was more like it. The damp green smell of grass filled the air. It was still hot, but there was a slight breeze out here, enough to stir the sleeves of Joey’s pajama top.

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