Birdy

wiggle-eyed friend of yours. I’m warnin’ ya, he’s gonna get you in trouble yet. That kid ain’t right in the head.’
    I hold back. What a shitty thing to do. He re-rolls his roll, slips the elastic over it, tilts and slides it back in his pocket. He’s holding out those curled bills in his hand. I don’t want to take them. Istand there. My mother turns away; she’s done all she can and she knows it. My old man’ll bop anybody if he takes a mind to it. He looks at me hard. He’s not really mad yet but he’s annoyed.
    ‘Ya don’t want it? Well, don’t tell your friend I didn’t try to give him something for his share of that junk heap.’
    He’s shifting to reach into his pocket. I know if he puts it back on the roll and in his pocket I’ll never see it again. I reach out and take the fifty bucks. He doesn’t even pay attention, just grunts like I’m robbing him and goes back to reading.
    I take off for Birdy’s. When I tell him, he asks me to tell the whole thing again. He keeps making me repeat parts. His eyes are wiggling like crazy. I try to give him the money but he’ll only take half. He actually takes twenty, tells me to get the ten changed and he’ll get the other five then. He’s thinking about something else.
    Then he asks me if I can find out who it is who bought our car. I tell him there’s no chance; if this guy’s in the mob, we’ll never find him. Birdy says he’s going to come and talk to my father. This is suicide; I try to stop him. There’s nothing he can do. My father’ll kill him; he doesn’t like Birdy anyway. But, there’s no way to stop Birdy. I tell him he’s going alone, I’m not going to get all splattered with his blood. Birdy’s not listening, he’s on his way.
    Well, my mother comes to the door. She never shows much on her face but she doesn’t smile. I’m hanging back on the porch step. Birdy asks if he can talk to my father. My mother lets him in. I run around the block to the back and let myself in by the cellar. I come up through the kitchen. My mother’s still ironing in the doorway. I can hear them in the living room.
    ‘Whaddaya mean you want your car back?’
    ‘You had no right to sell that car, Mr Columbato. That car belongs to Al and me. We did not want to sell it. It is worth much more than a hundred dollars.’
    ‘Get outta here, kid; that car was in my name and I could sell it to anybody I want. Go ’way. I’m tryin’ ta read my paper.’
    Birdy doesn’t move. I can tell my old man is getting mad. He’sjiggling the top leg he has crossed. That’s a bad sign, like a cat twitching its tail. My mother stands the iron up on end and watches.
    ‘Mr Columbato, would you tell me the name of the man who thinks he bought our car?’
    My old man just ignores him. His leg keeps jiggling. Birdy stands there. I’m expecting all hell to break loose. My mother turns and tells me to get Birdy out before my father does something. I can’t move. Birdy keeps standing there. My old man, without looking up, says, ‘Look, kid. You’d better get outta here or I’m gonna call the cops!’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Columbato. I was going to do that myself. I want to report a stolen car.’
    That does it! The old man throws the paper down and jumps up! Birdy doesn’t back off an inch. The old man isn’t very tall, not much taller than Birdy, but he’s at least twice as thick. He shakes his fist in front of Birdy’s face. He shakes so hard, his hair, which is slicked back with Wildroot, jumps up and down in back.
    ‘You callin’ me a crook? You sayin’ I stole that junk heap?’
    Birdy looks him in the eyes, right through that fist. I wonder if my father can hit him. Birdy isn’t even moving. He stands there like a stuck feather.
    ‘I think you made a mistake, Mr Columbato. You sold a car that wasn’t yours. You didn’t understand. If you will tell me the name of the man you sold it to, I can tell him what happened and give him his money back.’
    For a minute, my old man can’t say anything. His eyes are bulging. I know he wants to pick Birdy up and throw him out the door but he’s beginning to get suspicious.
    ‘I’m tellin’ ya, kid. The guy that bought that car ain’t never goin’ to give it back. You give him any trouble and you’ll wind up in a concrete shirt at the bottom of a river somewhere.’
    Birdy acts as if he doesn’t even hear him.
    ‘If you would just give me his name, Mr Columbato, I can contact him directly and I