Joey (standard:drama, 1440 words)
Author: Wax	Added: Mar 11 2005	Views/Reads: 3384/2466	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A ten year old boy is approached by the "Perver"

Joey 

“Hey, Mister! Heeeyyyy!! Mister!!” 

Joey stood 30 feet above the lunchtime gang on a walkway overlooking the
foundation for the new Westbury Hotel. The men sat with their heads 
bowed low, tearing off hunks of thick bread overflowing with aromatic 
salami and kielbasa. After each mouthful there came the experienced 
wipe of a thick wrist across their mustard covered lips and chin. A 
long swallow on a glistening bottle of Coca-cola washed it all down, 
and then the ritual would begin again. 

Somewhere, someone cranked the volume on a transistor radio. Paul Anka
was confessing his puppy love for a girl named Diana. Joey looked to 
where the music was coming from and thought once again how his sister 
always acted funny when she heard that song. Her name was Diane, and 
she was his favourite sister. But, when she played that song on her 
record player she would always grab Joey and swing him around in 
circles in the living room. As hard as he tried he could never escape 
her grip until the song was over. Sometimes she played it over and over 
again. 

“Hey, kid. You gotta get outta here! How many you got?” 

The foreman was heading in Joey's direction. Joey wanted to stick
around, maybe another five minutes. The two men just below him were 
almost finished their lunch. They knew Joey, but they wouldn't let him 
have their empty bottle until then. Someone called out to the foreman, 
somebody way up overhead, hanging out over a railing. When the foreman 
looked up he blocked the sun from his eyes, forgetting about Joey 
momentarily. In a flash, Joey slipped under one of the walkway rails 
and swung over the edge like a monkey in a tree. At ten years old he 
was as athletic as any ten year old you'd ever see. He scrambled down 
the 30 feet of scaffolding, leaping from the last section like the 
trapeze guy he liked to watch in the circus. He was careful to watch 
for any planks of lumber. One time, jumping from something just like 
this, he'd landed on a nail, and it had gone through his running shoes, 
right into his foot. One of the construction guys had put him in his 
truck and taken him to emergency. The man bought him a pop too! He was 
a nice guy, except when he yelled at Joey. Joey had learned to be 
careful around construction sites ever since. One of the men was 
opening a package of cup cakes with his fingers and teeth. He turned 
and looked at Joey, and smiled. He stuffed one of the cup cakes in his 
mouth and drained the last of his Coke. Joey stood in the man's shadow 
staring up to his eyes, as a dog watches his master who is eating at 
the dinner table. The bottle came down as if from a skyscraper and was 
passed into Joey's small hand. The man tousled Joey's hair. The foreman 
yelled out that it was time to get back to work, and the second bottle 
came Joey's way. As the second man was pulling on his work gloves he 
looked down into Joey's face. 

“How much you make, kid?” he asked. 

Joey hoisted the large sack of bottles the men had stowed in a
wheelbarrow for him, and turned toward the man. 

“Looks like about forty cents. Wow!” he said. 

The man wore a grim look on his face as he adjusted his hard hat. He let
a moment pass, and then started off to join the other fellas in his 
crew. 

“See ya, kid. Have fun” he yelled back. 

Joey was a polite ten year old; he knew he had to be around these big
construction guys. Hitching the sack to his hip, he skipped down off 
the lunch platform and headed off to the Loblaws two blocks away. 
Before he was past the last gate he yelled out behind him, “See ya, 
thhannnkkss.” 

Once past the perimeter fence he was out of sight. 

A ten year old's legs can carry him to where he wants to in the blink of
an eye, if he's motivated. The deposit return on all the bottles he'd 
just scooped would put forty cents in his pocket, and that certainly 


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