Lonnie is walking home pulling an ancient toy wagon. The wagon’s bent rusty wheels wobble and squeal under the heavy load of his auto mechanic’s tools and a crate of oranges. This is the first day’s work he’s done since the killin’ and he don’t feel good about it. He never should’ve repaired that truck but Harvey Hyde talked him into it. Good ol’ Harvey everybody’s friend on the south side; a poor man could always get credit at Harvey’s grocery. But if Caleb Toolbee found out he hired Lonnie the kindly grocer would be run out of town. What’s more Lonnie agreed with Toolbee; he didn’t deserve to live let alone work; he should have found a better way to handle things rather than kill that kid. Hell, he was a fighter. He had whipped hundreds maybe thousands of tough guys and nobody ever got hurt.
If he couldn’t out muscle a man he toyed with him till the man was tired: nothing took the fight out of a guy like being so worn out he can’t raise his arms. Never mind the DA refused to prosecute and the grand jury refused to indict. Lonnie was never going to forgive himself for killing that boy.
Lonnie nears his house and stops dead in his tracks: there’s a crowd of people in the alley behind the house. He grabs the oranges and tools leaving the wagon sitting empty on the sidewalk. Throwing his burden on the porch, he dashes into the alley and pushes his way through the milling spectators.
Archie’s worn-out tennis shoes are pointing skyward. Lonnie shoves people aside and sees Archie, blood pouring from his mouth and nose, lying with his head in Grandma’s lap. Grandma’s crying. She looks around at Lonnie. “I didn’t go to do it. He just walked into it, that’s all."
Archie, his eyes closed, begins choking. Lonnie goes to his knees and seizes Archie’s head and shoulders, turning his face to the ground. “Let’s turn him over so he won’t swaller his own blood. What the hell happened?"
Grandma cries louder, her body shaking violently. Lonnie looks around and he sees a pair of boxing gloves lying in disarray on the ground and Archie has the matching pair on his hands. “Grandma, did you cold-cock Archie?" Grandma shakes her head but the evidence shows different. Lonnie’s face breaks into a wide grin; he scans the crowd. “Whatta ya know? Grandma just put Archie down for the count. Hee! Hee! Now that boy can call hisself a man: ain’t everybody can say they got knocked out by Grandma. Come on, boy, git up. Hell, if this’ the worst that’s gonna happin’ you’re gonna have a soft life."
Archie, aided by Lonnie, staggers to the fence, grabs a rail, and vomits blood onto the ground.
Archie is lying on the couch in the Johnson’s front room. From time to time he rolls on his side and vomits into a bucket on the floor beside him. Grandma has moved her rocker up to the couch and is holding Archie’s hand. Lonnie walks by, opens the front door, and steps across the threshold.
“Lonnie, come back here. This boy’s in bad shape. We gotta git him to a doctor."
Lonnie closes the door and walks back to the couch and looks down at Archie.
“He don’t look so bad. I’m going out back and kill that old stewing hen I been saving. Fix him up some chicken and dumplings and he’ll be brand new."
Grandma shakes her head. “I heard tell that if somebody gets hit in the head and starts throwin’ up it’s a bad sign."
“Naw. That’s an old wive’s tale. Chicken and dumplings will do him good. Besides I got a fight lined up for this Saturday."
Grandma is perplexed. “A fight? With who?"
Lonnie’s face breaks into a big grin. “It’s a perfect fight for Archie. Pike-Eye Monahan."
...
Saturday, September 27, 1941 Archie rolls out of his blanket on the kitchen floor. Foreboding seizes him, chilling his body to the core. This is the day he’s been dreading. The day he’s going to fight Pike-Eye Monahan. Pike-Eye the toughest meanest kid on the West Side. He hears and smells the bacon frying at the same time. He looks at Grandma as she moves the bacon around with her spatula.
“Bout time you woke up, sleepy head. I gotta get some victuals in you. Get you ready to give that monkey the whippin’ he’s been asking for." Grandma’s smiling, almost laughing. How could she be so happy when Archie knows he’s going to lose this fight?
Archie begins dressing and thinking about he’s the only guy in town that has two homes. He spends most nights here with Grandma, Lonnie, Molly, and Andy but on Mondays he stays with his mom. She still works in Tracy and comes home on her day off to clean house, do the laundry, and buy a sack of groceries. She knows about his living with the Johnson’s and says it’s a Godsend because Cab’s hardly ever home. She just knows that things will open up for her in Modesto one of these days--the blackball can’t last forever.
The back door opens and Lonnie Johnson comes crashing in. “Hot damn, Ma! I been walking around the neighborhood and everybody’s talking about the fight. They wanna see that Pike-Eye feller get his’en. It’s too bad Molly and Andy ain’t here to see it." He turns to Archie. “How ya feeling, laddie? Ya ready to take that feller apart jest like Grandma and me taught ya?"
Archie nods his head.
...
Pike-Eye Monahan is the leader of a gang of boys that have earned a bad reputation in the neighborhood. Pike-Eye, for reasons unknown, has declared a vendetta against Archie. A vendetta that culminated when the gang swarmed over Archie as he walked home from school. Lonnie leaped into the melee and sent the boys scrambling. All but one, he slammed Pike-Eye against a fence and held him there. “Ya little weasel. If it’s a fight ya want, it’s a fight ya gonna get. Be over to my house next Saturday. We’ll put the gloves on ya then Archie’s gonna give ya the whuppen’ your mama never gave ya. Don’t try ta crawfish out neither 'cause I’m telling everybody and if ya don’t show, everybody’ll know what a yeller dog ya are."
...
The alley behind the Johnson’s house is filled with people. Young people, old people, even mothers carrying their babies. Archie sees most of the kids he knows watching him, pointing at him, and talking with smiles and excitement pouring from their bodies. The crowd leaves a small clearing in the middle of the alley.
In this clearing Lonnie is kneeling in front of Archie tying the boxing gloves on him. “Now remember, you can fight and he don’t know how. He’s gonna rush ya and try to drive ya straight back. Don't back up. Don’t back up and don’t back up. All ya gotta do is step to the side. Keep moving to one side or the other. Don’t let him get his butt behind him. Make him keep turning ta face ya. Don’t even try ta hit 'em the first couple of times he charges jest make him miss and …"
Grandma shouts from the back porch. “Lonnie, you gonna jaw or you gonna get this fight underway? You got another fighter to tend to. Remember, you’re the referee."
Archie watches as Lonnie moves over to tie the laces on his opponent’s gloves. His cronies, who are laughing and joking, surround Pike-Eye, but the gang leader doesn’t look happy.
There is so much to know so much to think about. Archie looks at his boxing glove. He used to think the glove was to protect the head, soften the blow but that’s not so; it’s to protect the hands and let the fighter hit harder and more often. A fighter with bare knuckles would feel the pain and not be able to hit so hard and often.
“All right. Archie, get over here." Lonnie is pulling Pike-Eye by his arm to the center of the alley. He grabs Archie’s arm and pulls him close. “This fight is under the Marquis of Queensbury rules. No hittin’ below the belt, no wrasslin’, and if ya tie up, break clean when I tell ya to. We’re gonna have three minute rounds with a minute rest in between. If ya get knocked down and don’t get up by the time I count ten, ya lose. This fight is to the finish.--He motions the fighters back a few steps then claps his hands. “Start fighting."
Archie looks at his opponent’s face for the first time. The dead fish eyes and angry scowl send a cold shiver through his body. Grandma’s instructions roar through his head. “Circle him. Concentrate on defense and don’t even try to hit him. Wait till you get him stumbling around then hit him with all ya got."
Archie sidesteps as Pike-Eye charges forward. It works: Pike-Eye stops and turns as Archie circles. Archie holds his gloves close together and high around his face; Pike-Eye holds his gloves chest-high and wide apart. Archie’s thinking, “The guy don’t know nothing,-- when Pike-Eye lunges with a round house right. Archie ducks and throws a right that connects. Pike-Eye staggers backward, fighting to stay on his feet as blood gushes from his nose.
“I wasn’t supposed to hit the guy yet." The unspoken words take over Archie’s mind as he looks at Lonnie. But Lonnie’s looking at and following the wounded fighter.
Grandma leaps off the porch and pushes her way through the crowd. “Hit the son of a bitch again. Hit the son of a bitch again."
Archie turns his face toward Grandma, trying to understand what she’s saying. He sees a blur of color out of the corner of his eye then something hits him hard in the back of the head.
“One … two …" Archie’s looking around, trying to figure out what hit him. He’s lying on his back.
The ground’s what hit him. He’s been knocked down and Lonnie’s counting to ten. “Three…four…" Archie rolls over and gets on his knees, everything’s spinning, everything’s out of focus. “Five…six…" Archie wobbles to his feet. Lonnie grabs his gloves and rubs them against his shirt. “You OK? You wanna go on?"
Archie says, “Yeah." And Lonnie steps back. Pike-Eye, bloody face and all, runs at Archie swinging round house punches before he gets close. Grandma once said, “If ya get knocked cock-eyed don’t try nothing fancy. Jest block, grab and hold till your head gets right again." Archie wraps his gloves around his head, blocking punches, and when Pike-Eye crashes into him he grabs with both arms. Pike-Eye spins and throws him to the ground.
“There’ll be none of that. That’s against the rules." Lonnie pushes Pike-Eye back, shaking a finger in his face. Archie climbs to his feet and Fat Oscar rings a cowbell. Lonnie says, “Round’s over. Go back to your corners."
Archie looks for a corner, spies Grandma and walks over to her. Grandma says, “He gotcha a good one, closed that left eye right up. But you got him a good 'un too. Soon as you get your legs under you, you’re gonna beat him easy. Just keep circling and crack him ever chance you get."
Archie looks at Grandma’s smiling face and realizes he can only see out of one eye. Now that he knows about the eye, it’s starting to hurt.
Fat Oscar rings the bell and Archie springs forward. He feels good now. He circles Pike-Eye and jabs his left to the head and then down to the body, dancing in and out, careful to keep to the side of his unskilled opponent.
Pike-Eye is reduced to warding off the jabs with both gloves extended and stumbling off balance, always turning in a circle.
Archie walks to Grandma at the end of the round. “My jab ain’t landing."
“That’s because he ain’t fighting. Feint with the left and throw your right. If you nail him with some shots he’ll quit."
The third round begins and Archie lands his right sending Pike-Eye staggering backwards. The confused fighter backs into the crowd and is pushed back into a torrent of punches. He slaps blindly and lands on Archie’s injured eye.
Archie screams and grabs his face, moving away from his adversary. Now it’s Archie in full retreat as Pike-Eye runs after him, swinging with both hands. The bell rings.
“It feels like somebody shoved a hoe handle in there and twisted it three times." Archie is leaning down and Grandma’s holding his face, looking at the eye.
“It looks bad but I’ve seen worst. Give yourself one more round. I don’t think he’s got anything left." Grandma squeezes water from a sponge onto her fighter’s head.
Pike-Eye is dead tired as he walks out for round four. He ducks a right and drives a right uppercut into the groin. Archie drops to the ground and rolls around in pain.
Lonnie pushes Pike-Eye in the chest and shakes a finger in his face. “Ya do that one more time and I’ll disqualify ya."
Back on his feet, Archie swings wildly and is dropped by another low blow.
Lonnie screams at Pike-Eye, “Ya just lost the fight. Give me my gloves and get the hell outta here." Archie is lying on the couch with an ice pack on his eye. “I won the fight but I don’t feel like I won." Grandma says, “You won all right. That monkey’s never gonna bother ya ever again."
...