for a starter. David, take Tommy downstairs
with you. Gather up all those cans and bottles. I’ll give Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Burling both a ring. I’ll bet they haven’t recycled
their cans and bottles in months. When you boys have everything ready, Mr. Warren will pile it into his pickup truck in the
morning and take it to Lewiston for you. How does that sound?”
Tommy smiled broadly. “Sounds great!” he said.
“Okay. Get a move on. I’ll make those calls.”
Tommy’s heart beat wildly. He raced out of the room and down into the basement after David.
16
E arly Saturday morning Tommy asked Mr. and Mrs. Powell if he could go to Lewiston with Mr. Warren and David. David had asked
him to go along, he said.
“Of course, you may, Tommy,” said Mrs. Powell, smiling. “We’ll be gone from home for a while this morning, too. We’re going
to see Mrs. Kilbourne and find out what we can do about having you become a member of our family.”
Tommy gaped. “You
are?”
“Yes. We want you as much as you want us, Tommy. Maybe the welfare people willbe kind enough to see things our way, and make all of us happy.”
“I — I hope so!” breathed Tommy.
Mr. Powell handed Tommy a duplicate key to the house, just in case he came home before they did. Then he squeezed Tommy’s
shoulder playfully. “Be sure you’re back by game time.”
“I will!” said Tommy with a laugh.
The pickup truck was loaded with cans and bottles.
“How much do you think they’ll bring in, Mr. Warren?” Tommy asked anxiously as they drove along the highway toward Lewiston.
“It’s hard to tell,” replied Mr. Warren.
Mr. Warren drove to the recycling yard. A tall, bushy-browed man stepped out of a small shack that had a sign over the door: OFFICE. Mr. Warren talked to him. Then he unloaded the cans and bottles as the man counted them. The man had a pad and pencil.He wrote figures on the pad each time he finished with a boxload.
Finally all of the cans and bottles were counted. The man figured up the amount. “That’s a nice load,” he remarked. He told
Tommy how much it was worth.
Tommy stared. “That much?” he said.
The man’s shaggy brows arched. “That’s what it comes to, son.”
Mr. Warren grinned at him. “That should do it, shouldn’t it, Tommy?”
“You bet!”
In the pickup truck Mr. Warren handed Tommy the cash. “There’s your money,” he said, cracking a grin. “How does it feel to
be a businessman?”
“Good!” Tommy said. “But half the money really belongs to David.”
“Well,” Mr. Warren said, “I suppose you could argue it that way, but we won’t. It’s all yours, Tommy!”
“Oh thank you, Mr. Warren! Thank you, David!”
They drove onto the main street in Lewiston. Mr. Warren parked the truck. The two boys and Mr. Warren then went into the store
that had mailed out the advertisements.
Tommy bought the doll, the shaving kit, and the earrings. He told the clerk to wrap them up separately.
“May I buy some tags?” he asked Mr. Warren.
“You sure can. Let’s get those next door.”
Tommy bought tags on which to write names. When they returned home, Mrs. Warren wrapped each gift in beautiful wrapping paper.
Tommy wrote the Powells’ names on the tags and fastened the tags to the gift boxes.
Then he carried them to the house, unlockedthe door, and put the packages in his room.
He played with Wag while he waited patiently for the Powells. At noon the telephone rang. Tommy ran to it, his heart racing
with excitement. He picked up the receiver.
“Tommy?” a pleasant voice asked.
“Yes. This is Tommy.”
“This is Mr. Powell, Tommy. We won’t be home for a couple of hours yet. Get something out of the refrigerator for your dinner.
And then go to the football field. I’ve already talked with Mr. Adams. Okay, Tommy?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Powell.”
“We may have some good news for you, Tommy,” said Mr. Powell. “See you this
Learning to Kill: Stories