“Now, the thing is,” Jonathan said, “ya gotta act

casual.”

“What do ya mean?” I asked. “You’re not thinking

about actually going into one of these places!”

“Sure. Look. This kind of stuff is here, and we got to

check it out,” Jonathan said.

“Yeah, but they don’t let kids into these kinds of

places,” I said.

“I know, dummy. That’s why I said you got to act

casual. The owners don’t hardly know how old you are.”

“But, Jonathan,” I said.

“Look,” Jonathan said. “The first thing you got to do

is check out the magazines. You’ll like them. Then we just

slowly make our way down toward the back, where the

peep shows are.”

“But, Jonathan, you gotta be kidding.”

We went in all right. The place was pretty crowded,

so I didn’t think anybody noticed us. We went over to

the magazine rack, and Jonathan grabbed an X-rated

magazine.

“Wow. Check this out,” Jonathan said, and he showed

me a picture of two naked people. “Come on. Grab a

magazine,” he whispered.

I grabbed one and started thumbing through it. It was

pretty amazing, but I didn’t want to look too enthused.

Then Jonathan moved farther toward the back of the

store. I stuck close. Then Jonathan nodded and whispered,

“There’s the peep shows.”

I looked over and saw a long hall. It looked like there

were a lot of closets down the hallway.

“You see,” Jonathan said, “they got these booths over

there, and you look through these peepholes, and you can

see a live nude girl dancing around.”

“Yeah?” I said. I must have said it too loudly because

some guy from the front of the store started coming over.

We both started thumbing through the magazines, and I

tried my best to act cool, but I was scared.

“We don’t allow no minors in here, boys,” the man

said.

“Well, we ain’t no minors,” Jonathan said. He was

trying to act his meanest. “I’m eighteen, and so is my

friend.”

I was shaking too much to say anything. 

Well, let me see your driver’s licenses,” the man said.

“We took the bus,” Jonathan said.

“Well, look. This ain’t no library, boys. Buy what you

want, and get out.” The man was getting annoyed. I was

perfectly content to do just what he’d said, but Jonathan

was not satisfied.

“Yeah, well, I want to see the peep shows,” Jonathan

said.

“Well, ya gotta prove you’re over eighteen for that

stuff, bub,” the man said.

“Dang! I said we took the bus,” Jonathan said, using

one of his meanest scowls ever.

I was getting more scared by the second.

“Look, I don’t want to make no trouble,” the man said

as he put his grimy hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s get the heck out of here,” I told Jonathan, and

I started toward the door.

“Okay, okay,” Jonathan said. “Don’t go causing a

scene.”

We pushed our way out to the street, and I was relieved

to get out of there. However, my relief didn’t last long, as I

realized we were still on sleazy Forty-Second Street.

“Jonathan, let’s get out of here,” I said.

“But dang!” Jonathan said. “I still haven’t seen a peep

show.”

We started back up Forty-Second Street, but Jonathan

still wasn’t done with his adventure. He still wasn’t content.

“Look,” he said. “This stuff is here, and we got to 

check it out. It’s our duty as teenagers. Parents always try

to hide stuff from us kids, so we got to go out and find

out about it on our own.”

“Yeah, but, Jonathan”—I was almost begging—

“maybe the reason they don’t want us to find out about

this stuff is because it’s no good.”

“Bunk. It’s just the opposite, ole boy. If it wasn’t so

good, they’d let us know about it right off the bat.”

“Well, then maybe it’s just too dangerous.” I kind of

understood what Jonathan was trying to say, but I was

also darn sure that sneaking around Forty-Second Street

wasn’t the safest thing for two fifteen-year-olds to do.

But Jonathan was bound and determined to expand his

horizons, so our next stop was an X-rated movie theater

to see a movie called The Vixens. The movie had started

forty-five minutes before we arrived, but it would be too

late to wait for the start of the other feature, Stormy in

Love, so we paid three bucks—enough for a box seat at

Yankee Stadium—and got in to watch a half-over movie.

We got to see stuff way far beyond anything in those

magazines. The theater was real crowded and hot, and

Jonathan went for some seats up close to the screen. We

could hardly figure out what the movie’s plot was, and

Jonathan explained to me that plot didn’t hardly matter

in those kinds of movies. Pretty soon, some old fat guy in

a dark coat sat down next to Jonathan. Then I heard a tiny

squeal from Jonathan. I looked over at him, and I could

see that his eyes were kind of bulging out of his head.

At first, I figured it was because of what was going on in

the movie, but then I noticed that the fat man next to 

Jonathan had his left hand on Jonathan’s knee. Jonathan

looked as if he were frozen solid, and I couldn’t figure out

if he was scared or kidding around or what. I gave him a

little poke, but Jonathan didn’t move a muscle.

I whispered, “Jonathan.”

He still didn’t move a muscle, and his eyes were still

bulging out of his head.

Again, I whispered, “Jonathan,” and he managed to

move one of his eyeballs over toward me, but he didn’t

move any other part of his body. Boy, did Jonathan look

strange. In the dark theater, with Jonathan’s dark skin and

dark face, just about all I could see was the white of his

one eyeball, which was bulging out and kind of trying to

look over at me.

I again whispered, “Jonathan,” and I gave him a little

poke.

Finally, he turned his head. Then he jumped up,

walked right over me, and said, “He’s a pervert. Let’s get

out of here!”

Jonathan pushed and shoved his way through the

row, and when he got to the side aisle, he tore up it like

crazy. I sure as heck wasn’t going to be left alone in that

dark theater with a pervert sitting near me, so I shot out

of there and chased after Jonathan, who had stopped in

the lobby.

“Well, what kept you? You like sitting next to a

pervert!” Jonathan said. “Let’s get out of here.”

We bolted out the door and back into what we

thought was the safe street, but of course, it was still old,

slimy Forty-Second Street. It seemed like this time, even 

Jonathan had had enough.

“Well, have you finally had enough of this disgusting

place?” Jonathan asked me.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one who said we

got to see what’s goin’ on,” I said.

“Yeah. Sure. Well, that was enough for me. I want to

get home in time to see Disneyland,” Jonathan said. “What

do they call that show—The Wonderful World of Color? I

really do like that name.” Jonathan’s sly, mischievous smile

was back, and he started weaving through the sidewalk

traffic at his usual breakneck speed. I tried my darnedest

to keep up, but at least this time, we were headed back to

the Port Authority.

I got home late, at about seven thirty, and I thought

I was in for big trouble. Jonathan told me to say we’d

missed the first bus and the next bus had broken down.

He said that usually worked for him, but when I got

home, the first thing my father said was “So you had to

go and pick an extra-inning game for your first ball game

without me. Your mother was worried sick, but I just told

her how you and your brother always insisted on staying

until the last out, even if a game went into extra innings.”

I was surprised at what my father was saying, but I

was no dummy, so I went along with it.

“Ah. Yeah. Sure. Wow! Extra innings!”

“That was some rally the Mets had in the bottom of

the ninth,” my father said.

“Ah. Yeah. Yeah! Wow! What a rally.” That must have

been all the cheering we heard as we were leaving, I thought 

to myself.

“You know, your mother made me watch the game to

see if we could see you. Hey, and was that you guys way

back there over by the third-base line?”

“Well. Ah. No. We had seats behind home plate.” I

was glad he was off the subject of the details of the game.

But then he asked, “How about that catch by Cleon

Jones in the tenth inning?”

“Yeah. Ah. Wow! It was great. Wasn’t it?”

“No, I mean it looked like on the television that he

trapped the ball.”

“Well. Ah. Yeah. Well, yeah. But we really couldn’t

tell.” I was starting to have trouble faking it.

“Well, jeez,” my father said. “You figure when you’re

at the game, you should be able to see better.”

I started to sweat with nervousness. I still didn’t even

know who actually had won the game, let alone whether

or not Cleon Jones had made a stupid shoestring catch or

not. But then my good ole sweet mom came to the rescue

with one of her good ole dumb questions, which I usually

couldn’t stand, but this time, I welcomed it.

“Were you cold out there today?” she asked. “It got

a little nippy later this afternoon. You should have taken

a jacket.”

“Yeah. Ah. Well. Yeah! Yeah! You’re right, Ma. It sure

did get a bit nippy out there.” Usually, I couldn’t stand it

when she started in with that stuff about taking a stupid

jacket, as if I were still a dumb little kid, but this time,

well, like I said, I was no dummy. I needed a change of

subject, and I jumped at it. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Ma. I sure do wish I’d had my

jacket today. Gee, what did the temperature go down

to?” I was starting to feel like Jonathan pulling his Eddie

Haskell routine. I could see Jonathan pulling the same

thing with his folks at that very moment.

“Well, it sure got nippy,” my mother said.

It seemed she wasn’t quite ready to go on with the

conversation, because she probably hadn’t expected me

to agree with her.

“Well, I’ll remember next time,” I said.

My father had kind of lost interest in the discussion

by that time, so I was safe and headed up to my room.

However, just as I started to go, my father caught me off

guard with another question.

“And so what souvenirs did you buy?”

I was sure he was remembering all the times we hung

around Yankee Stadium while I tried to decide what I

wanted to get for a souvenir.

“Ah. Well. Um.” I was stumbling a bit, but then the

old mind came through in the clutch with a great answer.

“Ah. Well. Hey! It was just a Mets game. What the heck

would I want with a stupid Mets souvenir?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” My father nodded, and I was

finally safe. I ran upstairs, clicked on my transistor radio,

and waited for the baseball scores. I didn’t want to take 

any chances.