A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [168]
“With that money, our troubles would be over,” thought Francie. “We could pay rent on a three-room flat somewhere, Mama wouldn’t have to go out to work and Laurie wouldn’t be left alone so much. I guess I’d be mighty important if I could manage something like that.
“But I want to go back to school!”
She recalled the constant harping on education in the family.
Granma: It will raise you up on the face of the earth.
Evy: Each of my three children will get three diplomas.
Sissy: And when Mother goes—pray God not for a long time yet—and baby is big enough to start kindergarten, I’m going out to work again. And I’ll bank my pay and when Little Sissy grows up, I’ll put her in the best college there is.
Mama: And I don’t want my children to have the same hardworking life I have. Education will fix it so that their lives are easier.
“Still it’s such a good job,” thought Francie. “That is, good right now. But my eyes will get worn out from the work. All the older readers have to wear glasses. Miss Armstrong said a reader’s only good as long as her eyes hold out. Those other readers were fast, too, when they first started. Like me. But now their eyes…. I must save my eyes…not read away from the job.
“If Mama knew I could get twenty a week, maybe she wouldn’t send me back to school and I couldn’t blame her. We’ve been poor so long. Mama is very fair in all things but this money might make her see things in a different way and it wouldn’t be her fault. I won’t tell her about the raise until after she decides about school.”
Francie spoke to Mama about school and Mama said, yes, they’d have to talk about it. They’d talk about it right after supper that night.
After finishing their supper coffee, Katie announced needlessly (since everybody knew it) that school was opening next week. “I want both of you to go to high school but it’s working out that only one of you can start this fall. I’m saving every cent I can out of your pay so that next year, both of you will be back in school.” She waited. She waited a long time. Neither of the children answered. “Well? Don’t you want to go to high school?”
Francie’s lips were stiff as she spoke. So much depended on Mama, and Francie wanted her words to make a good impression. “Yes, Mama. I want to go back to school more’n I’ll ever want anything in my life.”
“I don’t want to go,” said Neeley. “Don’t make me go back to school, Mama. I like to work and I’m going to get a two-dollar raise the first of the year.”
“Don’t you want to be a doctor?”
“No. I want to be a broker and make lots of money like my bosses. I’ll get on to the stock market and make a million dollars some day.”
“My son will be a great doctor.”
“How do you know? I might turn out like Dr. Hueller on Maujer Street with an office in a basement flat and always wear a dirty shirt like him. Anyhow, I know enough. I don’t need to go back to school.”
“Neeley doesn’t want to go back to school,” said Katie. She spoke to Francie almost pleadingly. “You know what that means, Francie.” Francie bit her lip. It wouldn’t do to cry. She must keep calm. She must keep thinking clearly. “It means,” said Mama, “that Neeley has to go back to school.”
“I won’t!” cried Neeley. “I won’t go back no matter what you say! I’m working and earning money and I want to keep on. I’m somebody now with the fellers. If I go back to school, I’m just a punk kid again. Besides, you need my money, Mama. We don’t want to be poor again.”
“You’ll go back to school,” announced Katie quietly. “Francie’s money will be enough.”
“Why do you make him go when he doesn’t want to,” cried Francie, “and keep me out of school when I want to go so much?”
“Yeah,” agreed Neeley.
“Because if I don’t make him, he’ll never go back,” said Mama, “where you, Francie, will fight and manage to get back somehow.”
“Why are you so sure all