A shape appears in front of that slice of blazing color, the shape of a boy coming down the alley: Will. He trots to where I’ve stopped under the fire escape.
“Jack, where you going?” he asks. “Come on back here. You’re missing the parade.”
“I don’t want to see any stupid parade!” I shout as hot tears run down my cheeks.
“Don’t be a fool. You love the Fourth of July parade.”
“Not anymore I don’t!”
He stops. “What’s wrong?” He looks at me. “Is it about Pete? About him . . . getting drafted?”
“No!” I shout. “It’s not about him getting drafted. It’s about him signing up!”
Will goes still. “What?”
“He signed up for the Marines this morning! He’s leaving us, Will! He signed up and he’s leaving us. He wants to go.” Fresh sobs rack my chest. Snot bubbles out my nose. “After all Frankie and me done to keep him here. After all we done to keep him safe. He goes and signs up!”
Will stares at the bricks like he can’t hardly believe it. Behind him those drums beat and keep on beating.
“He signed up . . . ,” Will says quietly to himself. “He signed up . . .”
Hot lava rises in my stomach. “If he wants to go, then fine! I don’t care what happens to him anymore!”
That’s not true, but I’m so mad at Pete for joining up I can’t help myself. My whole body is trembling.
Will looks down the alley at the parade going by us. It’s all the soldiers from wars past streaming along now. An old and glorious line of men in uniform walking slow and somber, faces set like rock as all the people cheer and cheer. Will watches them a long time, and when he turns back to me he looks so sad I think he’s about to cry too.
He kneels down in front of me. Puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Hey, Jack,” he says, real gentle and slow. “Do you know anybody, and I mean anybody, who can run faster than our brother Pete?”
His question don’t make no sense. Time like this and he’s asking me about Pete’s running. But I think for a minute, and then I shake my head.
In a voice that’s barely a whisper he asks, “You know anybody who can swim faster than him?”
I shake my head again.
Tears brim in Will’s eyes. “In the whole world, is there any boy tougher or stronger or smarter than our brother Pete?”
I sniff and shake my head.
Will nods. “That’s right. There ain’t. And so you don’t have to worry about Pete going to Vietnam and getting killed. He’ll be just fine. And he’s gonna come back home just fine too.”
One of his tears breaks free. Now we’re both crying there in the alley between the barbershop and the shoe-repair store.
Then Will does something that surprises me more than anything he’s ever done.
He hugs me.
It’s late evening when Dad hauls the crate of fireworks out from the garage. Sun’s dying in the west, shooting fingers of fire into a deepening purple sky. In that failing light, my father carries the crate into the meadow where he and Pete line up the rockets.
Our family’s gathered to watch them do it. It’s just like every Fourth of July far back as I can remember, only we got Frankie and Anna May with us this year. Frankie and me sit on the porch steps, eating bowls of ice cream. Anna May lies next to Will in the yard. They’re talking quiet and peaceful until Butch wanders over and licks her face.
This Fourth is different in another way too: it will be the last time we’re all together. Maybe for years, maybe forever.
Frankie puts an arm around my shoulder, almost like he’s reading my mind.
“It’ll be all right, Jack. He’ll be all right.”
Frankie cried too, when I told him. Pete ain’t even his brother, but he broke down bawling just the same. Don’t know what it is about sharing a person’s pain, but it makes it just a little easier to carry. We sit with our arms around each other on the porch. Me and my cousin. Me and my best friend.
Pete finally told the family at dinner earlier, but there wasn’t a person at the table didn’t already know. Dad brought out the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet next to the fridge and poured glasses. He gave Pete a toast and told us how proud he was of him. Like he’s not afraid at all of him getting killed or blown up.
And that’s the thing. I’m proud too. Prouder than I can bear. My brother is doing one of the most selfless things you can ever do. And I am so, so frightened.