You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

L A T C H - K E Y K I D

Zack climbed the giant steps up into the bus. He flashed his bus pass to the driver, who nodded in acceptance. Zack found an empty seat two rows behind the driver. A few stops later, an old man, in a heavy coat, slowly climbed up into the bus. His hands shook a little as he shifted his news paper and a white paper bag, in order to put his dollar into the fare box. He looked very old to Zack and somehow familiar. Perhaps Zack had seen him on this bus before. After all Zack rode the same bus to and from school every day. As the bus moved away from the curb the old man shuffled to the seat across from Zack .

Zack looked out the window . The bus passed busy people on the sidewalk. There were the large windows of stores behind them. He put his hand into his pocket where he felt the key to the apartment. He was reminded of his third grade teacher, Mrs. Wilson, who made sure he had his key as he left her classroom to go home. He thought about what he would do when he was home at their little apartment. It would be three hours until his mother came home from work. There were some dumb TV shows he could watch, and he did have homework to do. Zack was hungary and thought about making a snack when he got home, but he knew that there was nothing much in the refrigerator that he would want to eat.

The bus made a stop just two stops before Zack’s. Several people got off. Zack noticed that the old man, was reading his paper. As the last person was stepping off the bus the old man looked up. He struggled to exit the bus as quickly as he could manage. The driver noticed his plight and left the doors open. The old man stepped off the bus. The door closed and the bus swung out into the slowly moving traffic. Zack watched the old man as the bus pulled away. He had paused a moment clutching his coat and paper. Then he looked at the bus anxiously. The bus was moving slowly in heavy traffic now. Before loosing sight of the old man, Zack noticed that he was walking in the same direction as the bus was moving. As Zack recalled the anxious look on the old man’s face he noticed that the white paper bag was still sitting on the seat where the old man had been sitting. Zack moved over to that seat. He looked at the white paper bag next to him. It was folded neatly at the top. He lifted it. It had something in it.

Zack thought of the old man. He seemed to Zack, like he was nice. Zack recalled the old man’s anxious expression as he looked back at the departing bus. He wondered how it would be possible for him to return the white paper bag to the old man. The bus stopped every two blocks and the next stop was only one away from his apartment. He could get off there and run back. Perhaps he would reach the old man before he disappeared into his apartment or down the side street. The bus was stopping. Zack slipped into his back pack and with the white bag in his hand he rushed down the step and out the door.

He started to run. Perhaps, if he ran as fast as he could catch him. He was running like the wind. His back pack had books in it. It was heavy. With each step it banged against his back as if to give him a push to run faster. He ran as fast as he could. He reached the cross street as the light changed to walk. Dodging others waiting at the corner he ran across the street. Then he saw the old man still walking slowly towards him. Zack thought he was sure to catch him now. Zack was very tired. He stopped running. But then he lost sight of the old man in the crowded street. When Zack saw him again he was slowly climbing the steps to a tenement building. Zack ran fast again. As the old man was pulling his key out of his coat pocket. Zack yelled “hey mister!” People on the street turned to look but the old man did not. As Zack reached the bottom of his steps, the old man was entering his building. Again Zack yelled as loud as he could, “HEY MISTER!” The old man paused and slowly turned to see an exhausted African American boy holding out a white paper bag. The old man wondered, ‘Was it possible that this kid had run from the next bus stop to return my paper bag?’ The old man turned and sat down on the landing at the top of the steps. He could not believe what had happened. Zack climbed the steps and handed the white paper bag to to him. Zack felt very good seeing the expression of surprise and gratitude on the old man’s face.

The old man said “Why, thank you. Thank you so much.” Pointing up the street he asked “Did you run from the next bus stop?” Zack said “Yep”. The old man put out his hand and said “My name is Winston”. Zack grasped his hand and said “My name is Zack.” He was exhausted and sat down on the step next to Winston. Winston said, as if still in disbelief, “ Zack, you must have run very fast to catch me, and just to return my bag?” “Yep” Zack replied, “You looked sad when you watched the bus drive away. Then I saw that you had left your bag on the seat.” “Where do you live Zack?” Winston asked. “I live on 204th street. Just three blocks away.” “Won’t your parents wonder why you didn’t get off the bus at your stop?” Winston asked. “Oh no.” Zack explained. “My mom won’t get home from work until six.” Winston then asked “Do you know what is in this bag Zack?” “No. I didn’t look.” he replied. Winston opened the bag and held it out. Zack could see two big maple bars, They looked delicious. They even smelled good. “Well then” Winston said, “you and I will go in and have maple bars and tea.” Zach squirmed and did not answer. “What’s the matter.” Winston asked “Don’t you like maple bars?” Zach replied “Oh yes. I like ‘em a lot. But my mom told me not to go anywhere with strangers.” “Ah yes!” Winston replied. Well then, I will go in and make some tea, and bring it out here. Then you and I can enjoy tea and maple bars here on the steps together.” Zack happily agreed to wait.

As he waited, he thought about how good the tea and maple bars would be. He also felt good knowing that he had made the nice old man happy. Zack could not have known how it would warm the hearts of those passing by to see an old white man and an African American boy enjoying tea and maple-bars together on the tenement steps.

The end