Chapter 2

Rigby put his pile of old comic books in the back of his closet, took down the model hanging from the ceiling light, got the cigar box where he kept his money from its hiding place in the bottom drawer, picked up his radio and his Lone Ranger photo and went down to the basement. His father had opened the canvas cot and found an empty cardboard box he could use for his clothes and other things.

The boy opened the El Producto cigar box and put some change and a few dollar bills in his pocket and went out collecting since it was the last week of August. Collecting was the part of the paperboy job he really hated. It was a pain; asking people for money and standing there like a dope while they found it or made an excuse not to pay him. But he had to do it. It was part of the job, the way he made his money.

He started on Ash Street and the first two customers paid quickly, and he thanked them and smiled. His father had told him that was important, to thank people when they paid their bill. The next house owed for two months so when the lady answered the doorbell her told her it was two-fifty.

She made a face and he said, “July and August.”

She nodded, found her pocketbook and fished out two-dollar bills and then gave him three quarters. “That’s for doing such a good job,” she said, smiling. He thanked her and handed her the two receipts. Rigby was puzzled, again, by how people acted. The extra quarter was a surprise.

Except at Christmas time, when he had calendars to give people, tips were not very common. Most people paid, but there were a few where he had to go back two or three times. The distributor put a bill in an envelope on his papers on the 25th of each month and expected to be paid on the first. The one time Rigby forget, the man yelled at him and said there were plenty of guys that wanted his route.

At the next house, nobody answered the door even after he rang the bell twice. The car was in the driveway and the lights were on, but nobody came to the door. Rigby walked around the house to the back door and knocked. A man wearing an undershirt opened the door and said, “What d’you want?” around the cigar in his mouth.

“Collecting for the Star,” said Rigby.

“Not tonight,” said the man and closed the door quickly.

Rigby finished the block, collected from two more customers and had one ask him to come back another day. It was dark by then so he quit and walked home, listening to the broadcast of the baseball game from many homes...

He counted his money and found that he had accumulated about half of what he needed to pay the bill and promised himself he would do some collecting as he delivered the papers the next day, which was Saturday when people were likely to be home.

He was getting back to his comic book and when his mother called from the kitchen and said there was a phone call for him. It was Father Sweeney and he was calling to remind him that there was a game tomorrow and to be at church by ten o’clock. Rigby wondered if the priest called everybody or just him, because he had forgotten a game two weeks before and gone to the movies with two of his friends.

Kate Smith’s show was on so he went in the living room, sat on the sofa and listened to the jokes with his parents. She ended the radio program, as she almost always did, with a very loud “God Bless America.” It just about shook the curtains.

“Boy, she’s something,” said his father. “You know she was out at the Lake a few years ago?”

“Really?” said the boy. “Chevy Chase Lake?”

“Yep, made that old shell bounce, that’s what he said, guy I knew. This was back when the streetcars ran.”

“No kidding. I didn’t know streetcars went out there. Thought they just ran out to Rockville.”