NEXT
DAY:
Kimble awakens in early-afternoon after a late night. He looks out the window at the bright sunshine, then back at the darkness of his room, and heads down the stairs and out the door. With a cautious glance toward the main street of town, he pointedly heads the other direction down a quiet sidewalk beside the river. Soon he finds himself in what is obviously a better residential area in town. The street is lined with large older homes with early 20th century architecture and well-tended gardens. He spots a park bench and sits down beside the train tracks on the riverside to watch a huge barge, loaded with coal, floating slowly down the wide river.
The
waves created by the wake of the barge lap gently on the river bank and, lulled
by the sound, Kimble closes his eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on his
face. In the stillness, he enjoys a momentary feeling of peace and safety.
His mood is interrupted by the sounds of an argument. Looking down a side street, he sees an older boy, obviously taunting a younger one, who is trying to walk away. The other boy shoves him and he falls to his knees, but he springs up quickly and despite their size difference, runs back to attack the bigger boy. Kimble runs over to break up the fist fight. As he grabs the older boy to pull him away, the younger boy takes advantage of his opponent and punches him in the stomach. Just then a whistle sounds and a policeman runs over. He spins the younger boy around.
"Tim Barnes, are you fighting again? I thought you learned your lesson last time. You better watch out, or you'll turn out like your old man. Now, get out of here!"
The younger boy gives him an angry look, but turns and limps away without a backward glance. As Kimble releases the older boy, the policeman asks him solicitously, "You OK, Bobby?"
The boy rubs sleeve across his face to wipe off some blood and mumbles, "Yeah, I'm OK." Without a thank you, he turns and walks up the sidewalk to one of the large homes and opens the front door. The policeman calls after him, "Tell your Dad I said Hi."
As Bobby walks into the house without looking back, the policeman turns to Kimble, looking at him with interest. "You new in town? You look familiar. You got relatives here?"
Looking at the ground, Kimble replies, "No, I just got here yesterday."
"Well, thanks for your help. We've got a nice quiet town here, but there are a few troublemakers," he says darkly, looking at the retreating back of the other boy walking down the street. "Have a nice day," he says with a nod and turns away.
With relief, Kimble turns back in the direction of the boarding house, eager to put distance between himself and the police. As he reaches the playground across from his boarding house, he sees the boy from the fight sitting on the curb, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve and obviously trying to keep from crying. Kimble approaches him and he looks up, startled.
"Tim?” Kimble asks quietly. In response to Tim’s wary look, he adds, “I saw who really started the fight."
Surprised, Tim wipes his face again with his sleeve. "No one else ever does," he says bitterly.
"I know what it like to be accused of something you didn't do," Kimble says with feeling. He squats beside the boy and reaches out to look at the cut on his knee. "You should put something on that."
"I'll
be OK." Tim answers stoically.
"Look, I'll bet my landlady has some Band-Aids. And maybe some cold lemonade? You want some?"
With a surprised look again, the boy answers hesitantly, "Sure." and follows Kimble into the boarding house.
MINUTES
LATER:
Tim is sitting on the porch of Kimble's boarding house as Kimble bandages the cut on his knee. His landlady joins them carrying two glasses of cold lemonade. Tim reaches for one and hurriedly gulps it down.
Drinking his more slowly, Kimble looks across the street at the playground. "I saw you playing ball yesterday."
"I was just practicing," Tim answers, feigning disinterest.
"I could use some practice myself. Would you like to play some catch? If you have a spare glove, that is," he adds, leaving Tim an opening to refuse.
The invitation hangs in the air as Tim tries to hide his eagerness. "Sure, I can probably find one."
"Great. I’ll meet you outside tomorrow after school. I have to get to work now."
"And I'll bet you have some homework to do before your grandmother gets home," adds the landlady sternly, failing to mask her obvious affection.
Looking guilty, Tim sets down the glass and jumps down the porch steps. He pauses to look back. "Thanks, Mr. Anderson. I'll see you tomorrow."
"OK," nods Kimble.
As Tim disappears down the street, the landlady shakes her head. "That boy! He's always getting into scrapes. Helen has her hands full."
Kimble looks up, startled. "Helen?"
"Helen's my neighbor, Tim's grandmother. He's living with her now." Shaking her head and sitting down on the porch swing, she adds, "I guess I should tell you a little bit about Tim. He's had a rough life so far. His mother left his father because of his drinking problems. She got herself a new boy friend, but he didn't care to have Tim around, so she sent him back to live with his grandmother. Helen’s raising the boy by herself. She's divorced, so she has to work down at the pottery. I do the best I can to keep an eye on him after school …" she says with a sigh. "But I guess that's not your problem." Glancing at her watch, she adds "Don't you have to get to work? If I know Mike, he won't be too happy if you're late!"
"I think you're right." Kimble says with a startled look. He waves a quick good-bye and walks briskly down the street.