Renaissance Man - Part 1

Scene 14 _ Shoe Shopping (Inciting Incident - Part 1)

Scene 14 Rev F

Scene 14 "Shoe Shopping"

Torey Campbell - Protagonist
Addo Okoro - Torey's best friend
Brad - JCPenney shoe salesman
Police officer
Store cashier/clerk at Play Again
Beggar

[This is the first of three scenes (14, 17, 20) making up the ‘Inciting Incident’]

         Torey's link to the world is the G Bus that passes through Drullins on Archer Boulevard just a block from his house. While possible to connect to the whole city and beyond, the G Bus earns its keep by transporting workers and shoppers to and from downtown.
         The buses are old, dating back to World War II days when they carried factory workers from the bedroom neighborhoods to the industrial center of town to produce auto parts for the war effort. At shift change, the buses formed an almost continuous train and were packed -- every seat filled, every strap occupied by a worker hanging on.
         Now, not so much. The urgent throng of war workers a memory of long ago; the plight of the city's unemployment now reflected in empty seats. While old and spotted with rust, the buses are clean and surprisingly free of graffiti, a tribute to Allerford's well-run and well-maintained transit company. Their two-tone cream upper over lime green lower outer shell, recognizable blocks away, is a comforting sight to a weary worker at the end of a long day, thankful for one more day of employment.
         But today was Saturday -- few workers, mostly shoppers, including young Torey Campbell on his way to a new adventure and unexpected life lessons. Torey nervously fingered the four remaining of the five one dollar bills Nessie had given him for bus fare. On Tuesday just passed he had walked into a pickup soccer game, his first ever, and made a new friend. Today he was going to buy soccer cleats and school shoes with this new friend. So much had happened in just four days. Today will be a great day, he thought. The bus was not crowded; still early for Saturday shoppers. For Torey, trips to center city were rare, so the cityscape sliding past the bus window still intrigued him. Residential neighborhoods, some like his own, some better; industrial areas with a large U-Haul rental business, a steel fabricating company, a monument company with a yard littered with polished stone scraps, a heating oil distributor, a few auto repair shops, and the ever present corner bars and small eateries -- some serving breakfast, others not yet open.
         The morning sun was warming Torey's world and promising another hot August day. Torey wore a T-shirt and jeans, freshly clean but old. On his feet, his polished church shoes glistened in stark contrast. Human activity shouted 'autumn', but the calendar and Mother Nature were not ready to let summer go. In Torey's mind, the new shoes he bought today would kick the calendar ahead and his eighth-grade school year would get underway for real.
         Ahead loomed the Allerford Transit Terminal. The end of the line, the beginning of the day.
         The Allerford Transit Terminal, as the name implies, is the hub location and facility for all forms of public transportation in to, out of, and around the city of Allerford, all its neighborhoods, and nearby cities.
         The bus pulled into a stall identified as 'Drullins' by a large overhanging sign. Front and back doors opened, and all passengers exited the bus. Torey searched the terminal area for his friend Addo Okoro.
          "Hey Torey. Over here!" called Addo over the growling diesel engines and hissing air brakes of the swarm of buses arriving and departing the terminal.
         Addo stood by the war memorial statue, their agreed meeting place. He was sharply but casually dressed. A red and yellow soccer jersey, tucked into black Wrangler jeans, was accented by a black leather woven belt. Black Converse sneakers with white trim and laces finished the look.
         The area immediately around the terminal is popular with area residents, housing numerous bars, restaurants, and shops. All major retail chains have a presence nearby.
         "Hi Addo. Am I late?" asked Torey, with a big smile.
         Addo replied casually, "Naa. I just got here myself."
         "Getting here was easy," Torey commented confidently, "I never came downtown by myself before."
         Surprised and curious, Addo asked, "Really? How come?"
         "No reason, I guess. I came a couple times with my mom. I don't remember why."
         Addo let it pass. "Let's get your shoes."
         "Great. Where do we start?" Torey exclaimed, punching the air.
         Addo took charge. "Coach thought we should do the school shoes first. You agree with that?"
         "Yeah. I guess so."
         Addo continued, trying to organize the day, but keep Torey involved. "DSW, Sears, Macy's, and JCPenney are all near here. Let's try them first and also look at soccer cleats at the same time. What do you think?"
         Cleats or studs are protrusions on the sole of a shoe, or on an external attachment to a shoe, that provide additional traction on a soft or slippery surface. They can be conical or blade-like in shape, and made of plastic, rubber, or metal. The type worn depends on the environment of play, whether it be grass, ice, artificial turf, or other grounds.
         "Sounds good." How does he know this?
         Addo completed his thought, "... if we don't find cleats in those stores, we'll try Play Again after that."
         "I'm ready," Torey said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's go."
         Addo led the way. "DSW is near. Let's start there."
         "Okay," Torey replied, satisfied to let Addo lead the way.
         During the next couple of hours, what our teenage adventurers thought would be a quick and easy buying expedition turned into an unpleasant learning experience. Each store was different - different brands, different displays, different store layouts - all intended to confuse, or so they thought. Selection of soccer cleats ranged from nothing to dismal. One thing was consistent -- prices. No matter the store, brand, or style, prices were astronomical for Torey and Addo. Torey had wondered if he guessed right on prices in his argument with his father. Now he knew -- not even close. Trudging from DSW to Sears to Macy's, left them empty-handed and weary, the morning almost spent.
         "Only one store left -- JCPenney," said Addo, his voice upbeat, trying to hide the weariness.
         From Macy's, they crossed the street and walked a block to JCPenney.
         James Cash (J.C.) Penney was born on September 16, 1875, on a farm outside of Hamilton, Missouri. He was the seventh of twelve children, born to James Cash Penney, Sr. and Mary Frances (n Paxton) Penney. Penney's father was a Baptist preacher and farmer whose strict discipline included making his son pay for his own clothing once he reached his late pre-teens.
         In 1898, James Cash Penney began working for a small chain of stores called the Golden Rule stores. In 1902, owners Guy Johnson and Thomas Callahan, impressed by his work ethic and salesmanship, offered him one-third partnership in a new store he would open. Penney invested $2,000 and moved to Kemmerer, Wyoming, to open a store there. He participated in opening two more stores, and when Callahan and Johnson dissolved their partnership in 1907, he purchased full interest in all three stores.
         By 1912, there were 34 stores in the Rocky Mountain States. In 1913, he moved the company to the Kearns Building in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah. The company was incorporated under the new name, J. C. Penney Company. In 1916, he began to expand the chain east of the Mississippi, and during the 1920s, the Penney stores expanded nationwide, with 120 stores in 1920 (mostly still in the west). The number of stores reached 1,400 by 1929.
         "Here's a directory," Addo read for a moment, "Men's shoes are on the second floor."
         Up the escalator to the second floor, and a survey of the oversized wall signs quickly put them in the shoe department. There things got confusing as they wandered among racks of shoe boxes arranged in a manner they couldn't quite decipher.
         "How do we start?" asked Torey, looking around and holding his hands out, palms up, perplexed.
         "Torey, I've got an idea," replied Addo.
         "What's that?"
         "Suppose you bought school shoes that were good enough to wear to church?"
         "I like that idea," said Torey, flashing a smile.
         "Call the salesman," Addo said.
         "Sir!"
         A salesman was stocking shelves a couple aisles away. "Yes, can I help you?" he responded to Torey's call.
         "I need to buy some shoes," Torey said bluntly.
         "Sure. Do you know your size?"
         "No. You'll have to measure."
         "We can do that," the salesman said as he ushered the boys to a bench. Let's see what size you're wearing now."
         Both boys sat down on the bench, Torey removed his shoe and handed it to the salesman who inspected the inside in search of the size marking.
         The markings were faint but readable. "These are 6 1/2 B," he said.
         Torey added, "These shoes are about a year old."
         "You're a growing young man. You should measure every time."
         Torey nodded.
         Once a boy graduates from a child size 13 to a "big kids" size 1, youth shoe sizes run from 1 to 6 or 7 in most brands, and adult sizes take over seamlessly at size 7 or 8. If a young teen is wearing a size 9 shoe, that is a man's size 9.
         "Yeah," Addo offered, rejoining the conversation. "My mom has to replace my shoes every six months, and we measure every time,"
         The salesman measured Torey's foot using a Brannock Device -- the preferred gadget for measuring foot size. Though everyone has seen them in shoe stores, very few know the name, and no one knows the history. The Brannock Device is a measuring instrument invented by Charles F. Brannock for measuring a person's shoe size. The son of a shoe industry entrepreneur, Brannock spent two years developing a simple means of measuring the length, width, and arch length of the human foot. He eventually improved on the wooden RITZ Stick, the industry standard of the day, patenting his first prototype in 1925 and an improved version in 1927. The device has both left and right heel cups and is rotated through 180 degrees to measure the second foot. Today, the Brannock Device is an international standard of the footwear industry, and the Smithsonian Institution holds samples of some of the first Brannock Devices.
         "You should be wearing a size 7C," the salesman said, looking at Torey and raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Don't these shoes hurt your feet?"
         "Yeah. But I only wear them for church on Sunday," Torey replied, "so, I figured they were just stiff because I didn't wear them much. I had to wear them every day this week, and they really hurt."
         "I guess," the salesman commented, shaking his head in disbelief.
         "I need to buy a pair of shoes for everyday wear at school and to wear to church on Sunday," Torey said, picking up on Addo's idea.
         "Sure. Good idea to replace these," the salesman said with an encouraging smile. "They are way too small for you now."
         "Yeah."
         The salesman, confident he had a sale, and impressed with these two boys, put on a big smile and started to sell. "Do you see anything you like on the display rack? My name's Brad, by the way, what's yours?"
         "Hi Brad. I'm Torey. This is my friend Addo."
         "Pleased to meet you both. Torey, let's see what we can do about getting some new shoes on those feet."
         Bewildered, Torey picked up two shoes from the display, not noticing the price tags.
         "Those are nice and quite popular," Brad said, trying to compliment Torey's choice. "I'll check to see that we have them in your size and bring a pair back for you to try on."
         Brad recognized Torey's confusion. He had seen it many times before, as young boys tried to confront the task of becoming responsible for their own wardrobe. He took the shoes from Torey and went into the storage area behind the display to search for Torey's size.
         Torey looked at Addo, his face flushed with distress. "Addo, I don't know nothin' about buyin' shoes."
         "You will after today," replied Addo, smiling at Torey's confusion.
         "He'll try to sell me shoes I can't afford."
         "It's his job to sell shoes. It's your job to know what you want."
         Torey looked sheepish and mumbled, "Yeah. You're probably right."
         Brad returned with two shoe boxes under his arm, holding the two samples in his other hand.
         "Okay. Here are the two you picked. We have both of them in your size," Brad said, opening the boxes. "How about you Addo? Are you shoe shopping today?" Brad asked, hoping to get another customer.
         "No. Not me today. I'm just here to help my friend."
         Brad threw out compliments and teasers, trying to keep both boys engaged in conversation. "Well, that's a nice thing to do. Shoe shopping can be hard for young guys. Now girls ... they love it."
         "Why's that?" asked Torey.
         Brad continued his line. "For guys, it's a chore. For girls, it's an adventure. They do it just for fun, even when they don't need shoes."
         That baffled Addo. "Why would you go shoe shopping when you don't need shoes?"
         "I don't know. It's beyond me," Brad sighed, then smiled, "but I'm good with it because I can usually turn it into a sale. Try these on just for fit, then we can start looking for something you like."
         From one of the opened boxes, Brad lifted a loafer or slip-on. He removed the tissue paper stuffing, pulled out his shoehorn, and easily slid the shoe onto Torey's foot. The surprise on Torey's face was even noticed by Addo. Torey's feet were in a new world -- shoes that actually fit. Brad put on the other shoe, and Torey walked around the seating area, thoroughly enjoying the idea of wearing shoes that fit.
         Torey smiled at the feel of the shoes, then turned dark. "How much are these?" he asked cautiously.
         "Those Florsheim Riva Men's Slip-Ons are $99."
         "... and these?" Torey contained his shock and pointed to the pair in the other box.
         Brad sensed the need for a harder sell. "Those are Bangor Chukka Boot from Deer Stags. This pair is made with a removable memory foam footbed to ensure every step is soft and light. It has an 'Easy Care Upper' - just wipe with a damp cloth and buff dry," he said as he slipped one on Torey's foot. "It has a lace-up closure, round toe, breathable fabric lining, synthetic traction sole, and contrast midsole stitching. This pair is priced at $75," he said, finishing his sales pitch just as he laced up the second shoe on Torey's other foot.
         Brad moved away to let the boys discuss their options.
         Torey walked around, then sat beside Addo on the bench. "Addo, I think I like the Chuka Boots best. I can get away with wearing them both to school and for dress up, and they are comfortable too."
         "Yeah, they're cool," Addo replied hesitantly, for he knew there was not enough money for those shoes. Did Torey not hear Brad say they were $75?
         Reality and frustration hit Torey. "This is crazy. I can't afford any of those shoes."
         Addo was getting irritated with Torey. "Quit bouncing around the price," Addo whispered sternly. "Give him a price number to work with. He can't tell what you can afford unless you tell him."
         After a few minutes, Brad returned.
         Torey looked at Brad and said, "I like those Chukka Boots, but I can't go over $50," throwing out a number on impulse.
         Addo lifted his head and looked startled at Torey, then Brad. "Whoa. That's going to be tough," he said quietly, almost to himself.
         Brad smiled at Addo, then Torey. "Maybe not. If $50 is the most you can spend, I may have an answer. I'll be right back."
         Brad returned quickly with three pairs of Stacy Adams brand shoes for Torey to choose from -- each a different style. He felt these would help Torey define his favorite shoe type. First a pair of Chukka Boots, the 'Detonator,' a good masculine name sure to appeal to a young man. The second pair was the 'Ashby', a simple pair of plain toe lace-ups. Third was a pair of loafers or slip-ons called the 'Roswell'.
         Brad looked at Torey confidently, and said, "Here are three pairs of shoes that I think you will like. I got them off our Clearance Rack. Three completely different styles and all quality shoes ... all under your $50 limit. Let's try them on."
         Torey looked at the three pairs of shoes. "These are all Stacy Adams. Do you like that brand?"
         "I do," Brad replied firmly. "Stacy Adams is more than just shoes. Stacy Adams is a lifestyle brand - designing quality clothing, accessories, and shoes for distinguished gentlemen who know true style," he said, throwing in a little sales pitch from the tag on the shoes.
         Brad brought out his shoehorn and slipped Torey's foot into one 'Detonator' Chukka Boot. Torey asked for the other one, laced them and walked about the shoe department, looking at his feet, both directly and in the shoe mirror. He was pleased.
         Brad continued selling, "These Stacy Adam's Detonator Moc Toe Chukka Boots are the coolest style dress shoes that go great on jeans or slacks at any occasion -- wear them dressed up or casual. The rugged casual 100% suede leather upper with a rubber lug sole and a padded insole keeps them comfortable even if you stand on your feet several hours a day. Look at the quality workmanship. Normally $75, they are clearance priced at $49.90."
         "They look good on you," said Addo, sensing that Torey was beginning to take command of the situation.
         Torey was still a bit surprised at how good shoes felt when the fit. "They feel good," he said.
         Brad switched attention to the second pair. He had memorized the sales pitch from the shoe tag. "The Stacy Adams Roswell Moc Toe Slip-On features a classic design and decorative strap that makes it a versatile enough to wear with suits or jeans. Slip it on, and you will see why. This shoe has a smooth leather upper, leather linings for added breathability, fully cushioned insole, and durable rubber outsole," he said without taking a breath. Then, "the 'Roswell' normally sells for $90. It's on sale for $49.90. That's a really good buy, Torey."
         Next, Torey tried on the 'Roswell', his first experience with slip-ons or loafers. Again, with both shoes and a walk around the shoe department, he was pleased with the feel.
         "I never had loafers before."
         "They might work for school," offered Addo.
         Finally, he tried the 'Ashby'. He was beginning to enjoy this process
         "I think I see why girls like shoe shopping," he mumbled to himself.
         Brad was in high gear, proudly reciting the sales pitches he had memorized to impress young customers like Torey and Addo. "These Stacy Adams Ashby Plain Toe Lace Ups are a very good pair of shoes for an excellent price. On clearance, they are a real bargain. They fit true to size and come with an extra pair of laces. The uppers are leather, and the soles are synthetic -- lightweight ethylene vinyl acetate. I bet you didn't think I would know that. They are comfortable inside, and the soles have a slight cushion to them. Normally $90, on clearance they are $49.90."
         Addo was impressed -- both with the shoes and Brad's recitation. "They're cool," he said.
         Torey was looking happy. "I like all these shoes."
         "Any of these will be casual enough for school and dressy enough for church -- and they all fit your $50 budget," said Brad, gently pushing for a decision.
         Torey picked up one pair and pushed the other two away. "OK. I'm going to take the Detonators," he said decisively.
         "Fine. I'll bag them up for you. That'll be $53.39," said Brad.
         "Wait. You said $49.90." Torey was now confused.
         "Yes. $49.90 for the shoes and $3.49 for sales tax."
         "Sales tax?"
         "Yes. State sales tax is seven percent," Brad replied, giving Torey a curious look.
         Torey was not happy with himself. Something else I didn't think about. Boy, am I slow. Never bought shoes before. Didn't know what loafers are ... or Chukka Boots. Never thought about sales tax. Never even came into the city, except with my mom. I must really be a jerk. But these new shoes feel so good. Oh, and I couldn't recognize that my old shoes hurt because my feet have grown. I've got a lot of growing up to do.
         Addo stood quietly, trying to look positive, but his mind was concerned. Man, I'm glad that's over. He has his school shoes, but by my count, that leaves only about ten bucks for soccer cleats. That ain't gonna happen. We got trouble ahead. Doesn't he see that?
         Brad finished the transaction, giving Torey his change and the bag containing the shoe box. "Torey, thank you very much. Addo, you too. I hope you both have a good year in school."
         Torey replied. "Thanks Brad."
         So did Addo. "Yeah. Thanks, man."
         Out of JCPenney's and back on the street, the summer sun was directly overhead. The temperature change from inside the store felt like stepping into an oven.
         Torey remarked, "Brad was a nice salesman."
         Addo shoved Torey with a smile. "Yeah, he was. Torey, I'm hungry. How about some lunch?"
         Torey hesitated. "Uhh. I didn't think about lunch."
         "There's a diner a couple blocks from here that I went to with my dad. Their food is good," replied Addo, anticipating a hearty lunch.
         "How much will that cost?" stuttered Torey, shoving his free hand in his pocket.
         "I don't know. It depends on what you order, replied Addo. "A few bucks, I guess," suddenly aware of Torey's dilemma.
         "I don't have any money for lunch." Torey was embarrassed: he looked the fool again.
         Addo, by now familiar with Torey's situation, caught the signal and hastened to let Torey off the hook. "Oh. Well, how about a hotdog from one of the street vendors?" he suggested cheerfully.
         "No. I'm fine. You get something," Torey said, his voice unable to hide his embarrassment.
         Determined not to miss lunch and not to leave Torey go hungry, Addo responded, "I've got a better idea. I see a hotdog cart over there. I'll treat you to a hotdog and a drink. That way we won't have to waste a lot of time messing with lunch."
         While food trucks are common at fairs and carnivals, they don't work well in the crowded confines of the urban city street. Here the pushcart is king, and they serve every possible kind of food and confection. Today, the boys had their eyes on one selling hotdogs. The vendor had staked out a position on the sidewalk, beside a lamppost, near the pedestrian crosswalk of a major intersection.
         His cart was purposefully conspicuous - a bright red base with two large, spoked, steel-rimmed wheels to match. In the base, storage cabinets held his supplies. The top of the cart was covered with a three-sided white multipaned glass enclosure, topped with a red and white striped roof. Inside, a warming tray with a pan of hot water heated by a burner fueled by bottled gas held the hotdogs. Beside the hotdogs was a Styrofoam cooler holding canned beverages. Also a basket of hotdog buns, and a tall metal rack suspending small bags of chips, pretzels, and peanuts. Taped to the inside glass was a price list -- all prices rounded to the half dollar to minimize confusion in counting and making change. The front of the cart served as a counter for dressing your hotdog with mustard, relish, onions, or ketchup, and picking up some extra napkins.
         At the rear of the cart, the vendor, a jovial elderly man wearing a white shirt, black pants, red and white striped apron, and a straw hat, happily joked with customers and served up hotdogs.
         "Okay. Thanks," said Torey, gratefully, for he was hungry
         "Smells good. What do you want?" asked Addo.
         "Hotdog and a Coke."
         The boys walked to the hotdog cart. "Two hotdogs, two bags of chips, one Coke, and one Root Beer," said Addo.
         "Thanks, Addo. I appreciate this. I never even thought about having to buy lunch."
         "That's fine. I know your head has been full of other stuff," said Addo, trying to be dismissive of the situation.
         Empty is more like it, thought Torey.
         This kid hasn't been anywhere, thought Addo.
         "Five dolla, please," said the vendor, smiling. "Best a hotdog you eva eat."
         Addo paid the bill, the boys gathered up their food, stopped at the front of the cart for condiments, then sought a place to sit to eat.
         They found themselves in a small make-shift park created in a canyon left by a demolished building in the middle of a row of wall-to-wall buildings. Some enterprising community group had decided to recapture the cavity and turn it into something less distressing and possibly more useful. The hole was a three-sided box canyon, surrounded by the two-story blank walls of the three adjacent buildings. Those three blank walls were covered with murals up to about as high as the local artist could reach without a ladder. The ground had been cleared and filled in with decorative cobblestone, no grass. From somewhere a small gazebo had materialized and someone had turned up a half dozen 55-gallon drums, painted them bright colors, and planted a few small trees and large bushes. The trees and bushes were not doing well -- light was in short supply, and the water supply was intermittent. A few iron city park benches found their way into the space and people began to take their lunch break there. Enterprising food vendors soon showed up, and this little city space became a lunchtime gathering place for local workers and shoppers.
         The situation was beginning to dawn on Torey. "Addo, how am I going to find soccer cleats for $10?" he asked, staring down at his feet.
         Addo answered lightheartedly, trying to pull Torey out of the gloom. "I know new cleats will cost more than $10, but maybe we will find something at Play Again. Can't tell until we try."
         Teenage boys eat anything and everything. Both had hotdogs loaded with every condiment to the point of turning the bun soggy. They sat together on an iron park bench in this small park-like area, discussing the next leg of their adventure. Several pigeons pecked the ground around their feet.
         The sun was slightly past its zenith. No building shadows to break the glare and the already hot day was getting even hotter. The lunchtime crowd was thinning as people went about their shopping and sought the protection of air-conditioned buildings. The boys were finishing the last of their now warm beverages.
         Impervious to the heat, two teenagers rolled by on skateboards.
         It's hard to say which hit first -- the stench or the shadow. Both looked up at once into the face of a man standing much too close to them, when they heard him speak.
         "Hey guys. I've had a run of bad luck. Can you spare a buck for a cup of coffee?" The crackly, raspy voice was like sandpaper.
         Eyes, green and deep-set, bloodshot but penetrating, glared at Addo and Torey from beneath a worn red baseball cap with a mostly obliterated company logo. The man had a full head of hair and beard, a mix of black and gray, unkempt, dirty, and straggly. He badly needed a haircut and shave, but must have had one some months ago, judging by the length of his hair and beard.
         "No. Sorry. I don't have any money." Addo's reply was polite but firm.
         Torey gagged on the smell of stale urine and intense body odor. Addo screwed up his face, repulsed by the smell.
         The beggar continued to press the point. "Oh, come on. Two fine young men like you must have a couple bucks you can spare," he said, looking at Torey.
         "No. I don't have anything," Torey responded to his look.
         Gnarled knuckles and sunburned, wrinkled skin told of life outdoors. Not the life of a farmer or cowboy, but a life sitting on park benches and sleeping on subway ventilation grates.
         The beggar probed some more, "I see you have a bag there. Been shopping? Got a little change you can spare?"
         "No man ... nothin," said Addo, louder, firmer, showing irritation.
         The beggar turned his attention back to Torey. "How about you, Whitey? Sure, you can't see your way clear to help a white brother down on his luck?" he asked, the crackly voice pleading.
         His diminutive body stood no more than five and a half feet and probably weighed less than 160 pounds under a ragtag mix of clothing that was all too big for him. He wore an expensive suit, more accurately parts of suits (plural) that were once expensive to different owners in the distant past.
         His jacket was Navy in color with a Windowpane pattern -- sleeves rolled up, exposing his hands. Under the jacket showed a maroon T-shirt -- dirty, worn, revealing several holes. His grey Herringbone suit pants were held in place by a double wrapping of hemp packing twine. The pant legs were frayed from dragging on the ground but did not hide the fact that he wore no socks. However, he did have shoes --black sneakers with white trim kept on his feet by hemp wrapping twine for one lace and cotton string for the other.
         "You're eatin lunch. I ain't had nothin to eat in three days," the beggar scowled, his voice taking on an accusing, self-righteous tone.
         Addo, still reacting to the smell, reached into his pocket and drew out a dollar bill.
         "Here's a buck. Now go away," Addo said, thrusting the dollar bill at him.
         "Well, that's right nice of you, Sambo. But one dollar won't buy enough to feed a sparrow. How about a couple more from you, white boy?" said the beggar, moving toward Torey.
         Torey's retort was sharp and angry, "I said I don't have any money. Leave me alone."
         Addo jumped in, "You hard of hearin' or just stupid?"
         "I ain't talkin' to your black ass," the beggar snarled as he changed direction toward Addo.
         Several passing shoppers stopped to watch the confrontation. Also watching was a city policeman, approaching on foot.
         Torey leaped off the bench and thrust himself between Addo and the beggar, standing nose to nose. "Well, I am talkin' to you, old man. Buzz off," he roared, surprising himself, Addo, and all those watching.
         Addo's eyes opened wide, and he looked hard at Torey, taken back by this sudden burst of authority.
         The beggar, leaning in on Torey, was about to turn hostile. He saw the police officer, tapping his baton in his other hand, and changed his mind. Instead, he shuffled off down the street in the direction away from the cop, mumbling profanities as he walked.
         Addo and Torey stared at each other, then broke into a hearty laugh. They gathered up their lunch trash, dropped it in one of the painted 55-gallon drums designated for trash.
         "You surprised the hell out of me," Addo said, as they walked out of the park. "You ready for the best part of the day?"
         "Finding soccer cleats for $10? Sure," Torey replied, sarcasm and frustration clearly apparent in his voice.
         Athletes have worn cleats since at least the 1500s. The first written documentation of cleats comes from 1526, when "football boots" were listed in King Henry VIII's Great Wardrobe. According to researchers, the English monarch ordered the royal cordwainer (shoemaker), Cornelius Johnson, to make him a pair of hand-stitched boots "to play football."
         "I guess we better go to Play Again," Addo said. "Coach gave you the address, right?"
         "Yeah. Got it right here." Torey pulled out his wallet, removed the piece of paper Dreyer had given him and handed it to Addo.
         "3400 Murray Street," Addo read the words from the paper, "I got no idea where that is. What do we do now?"
         "When in doubt, ask a cop."
         Addo looked at Torey. "Not in my world," he said sarcastically, his face wide with wonderment.
         The boys walked over to the policeman who has been foot patrolling the area around the little park where they ate lunch.
         Torey took charge. "Excuse me, officer. Can you tell me how to get to this address?"
         Torey held out the slip of paper. The officer gave the two boys a suspicious look, noticing a white boy and a black boy obviously together, and recalling their confrontation with the beggar. He took the paper and read the address.
         "3400 Murray Street? Murray Street is about three miles from here. I'm not sure where 3400 is," the cop said, handing the note back to Torey. "What is this place?" he asked.
         "It's called Play Again," Torey replied. "It's a store that sells used sports equipment."
         "Oh yeah, I know it now," the officer said, recognizing the location. "We get some of our gear for Police Athletic League there. It's a good place."
         Addo joined the conversation. "How do we get there?" he asked.
         The cop gave them directions. "Take the number 16 trolley ... get on over there ...," he pointed to the trolley stop, "... to Murray Street. Transfer to the J bus for about a mile ... to Wilson Street. Play Again is there at the corner of Wilson and Murray."
         "Thank you, officer," Addo said, happily surprised at this encounter with the law.
         "Good luck, fellas. Hope you find what you need."
         Torey looked forlorn. "Oh, Addo ... more bus fare eating into my shoe money."
         Streetcars have the same cream and lime green paint scheme as the buses. But they, of course, traveled on buried rails and were powered by electric motors receiving their energy through a spring-loaded power bar with a wheeled end that pressed upward against a heavy wire suspended overhead.
         Large cities that rely on a public transit network, like Allerford, provide an 'exchange ticket' that allows a passenger to travel anywhere in the system for a single fare. Thus, a rider could traverse the entire city by switching from trolley to bus to subway for one fare. To city dwellers, it is a natural part of life. Children learn early how to operate in this system. Most passengers don't even ask, they simply hold out their hand for the ticket.
         Torey and Addo watched the urban scenery slide by as the trolley took them into neighborhoods they had never seen before.
         Stomachs full of hotdogs and chips, the boys sitting side by side dozed intermittently, lulled by the gentle rocking and rhythmic clacking of the trolley. Neither boy gave a thought to how recently that scene had become commonplace.
         Transferring from the 16 trolley to the J bus was seamless with only a brief wait. The short bus ride to Wilson Street passed quickly. When the bus pulled away, they surveyed the four corners of the intersection.
         "There it is. I see it," Torey exclaimed, pointing to the building.
         "Yeah. Me too."
         The neighborhood, poorly zoned, was a mixture of old residential and bottom-line retail, interspersed with light industrial. Play Again, sitting on one corner of the Murray/Wilson intersection occupied the lower floor of a two-story manufacturing building.
         "Certainly not as fancy as JCPenney," Torey observed.
         Play Again Sports is a neighborhood sporting goods store offering new and quality used sports and fitness equipment. Kids grow like weeds, teens want new name brand everything, and parents want affordable prices. Play Again buys, sells, and trades new and used sports equipment and fitness gear at prices well below published retail. They carry popular brands like Nike, adidas, TaylorMade, Wilson, Easton. They are located in a neighborhood where spacious real estate, mostly manufacturing and warehousing, is available at moderate prices.
         "Not as pricy either," replied Addo.
         Entering the building, Torey approached a cashier, standing idly by an empty checkout lane. "We're looking for soccer cleats," he said with a touch of excitement.
         "Over there in the far corner," the cashier replied and pointed, grateful for even this small break in the boredom. "New ones are on the wall. Some used, very good, are in the floor aisles, and some very used are in a bin -- you'll see it."
         "New? I thought you only sold second hand?" asked Torey, surprised.
         The clerk explained, "We get some new factory rejects. The manufacturers use us as an outlet for stuff that's less than perfect. You might find some real bargains there."
         "Addo, look at all these brands. Nike, adidas, Puma, Umbro, Under Armour, Diadora, Vizari," exclaimed Torey, awestruck. "They've got everything."
         "Almost all brands, but not all styles, and not all sizes," Addo observed.
         "How do we do this?" Torey asked, looking around and holding his hands out in confusion.
         Addo was confused too. He thought for a minute, then smiled. "Simple," he said. "Size 7C, just look for 7C."
         "Oh yeah, 7C."
         The boys separated, motivated by this gold mine of soccer cleats, each walking a different aisle, running their hands along the boxes on the shelves, grouped by brand name, then by size. "7C...7C...7C"
         "Torey!" yelled Addo. "I found a couple new pair on the wall."
         Torey replied, "I got three off the rack."
         "Any in the bin?" Addo asked.
         "Haven't checked there yet," came back Torey's response.
         The foraging turned up three reasonable candidates worth closer inspection. They set them out on a counter-top and looked them over carefully.
         Addo admired one pair. "Look at these adidas X18s. Really cool."
         Torey responded with a throaty laugh. "These UA Magnetico Pros are sharp."
         "I like these Puma Ones," said Addo, catching the spirit of the moment.
         Torey's face clouded over. "What are the prices?" he asked, his concern returning.
         Addo replied, looking at the tag on each pair as he did. "The adidas X18s are $65. The UA Magnetico Pros are $60. The Puma Ones are $50."
         "Addo. I can't afford any of those! I only have $10!"
         Addo's ability to keep Torey's attitude positive was failing. "Let's look in the bin," he said, realizing this was their last chance to get Torey equipped to play soccer.
         The 'bin' was an inflated kid's backyard swimming pool, about six feet in diameter and a foot deep --filled with cleats from all sports, tied into pairs by their laces. All brands, all styles, all sizes, the bin was the collecting place for those cleats that could not qualify for reasons of condition to make it on to the display shelves. Addo and Torey each took up positions on opposite sides of the bin, on their knees, and plunged into the melee, searching for the magic 7C. It took several minutes for each boy to come up with a possible success.
         Torey spoke first. "Here's a pair of 7C -- adidas Predators."
         Addo soon followed. "Here's another -- Nike Phantom Venom Pro ... and one more -- UA Magnetico Select."
         Like treasure hunters who had struck the Mother Lode, each boy held up his find for closer scrutiny.
         Torey's 'adidas Predators' were black with red high tops and red cleats. The outside side of each shoe was decorated with three white stripes. Addo held up a pair of Nike Phantom Venom Pros, a bright red shoe sporting one black stripe and black cleats.
         "This pair is newer, but it has a torn seam, and they still want fifty bucks," Torey said, disappointed.
         Addo had tossed aside the Nike Phantom Venom Pros and was concentrating on his second find -- a pair of UA Magnetico Selects. These shoes, black with lime green cleats and no stripes, appeared to be in good condition. Obviously worn, but all the stitching was still intact, the cleats were firmly attached, and none of the lace holes were ripped out. Why was this pair in the bin? he wondered.
         Addo looked at the price tag, frowned, paused, then held up his pair, something clicking in his mind. "Torey, here is your soccer cleats, UA Magnetico Select, 7C, in good condition," he proclaimed triumphantly, fully realizing that $35 was still a long way from $10.
         Torey reached out and took the shoes from Addo. Turning each one over in his hands, carefully inspecting for damage, finally lifting the tongue and peering deeply inside, Torey fell in love. Then he looked at the price tag -- $35.
         Teenage boys don't cry - for anything - but Torey lost it. "I can't do this. Shopping all day, the best deal I can find is $35, and all I have is $10. Who am I kidding? I can't do this."
         Torey was despondent, standing there on the verge of tears, his hope shattered. Addo looked at him for a long time, wondering what kind of family life Torey had that would thrust him into this position. Addo knew his father and mother would never send him out to face a guaranteed failure with no preparation or support. A mixture of sympathy and guilt filled Addo. Sympathy for Torey and guilt that he had not brought Torey back to reality earlier. He thought the arithmetic was impossible from the start. Then it became brutally clear, when Torey paid $50 for school shoes, that there was no way he could go home with soccer cleats for $10.
         "Yeah, this is the best deal you're gonna find," Addo replied humbly, reluctant to speak the thought that had just occurred to him.
         Torey was completely depressed. "What was I thinking? Believing I could get a pair of soccer cleats for $10."
         After a long pause, Addo finally spoke, "Torey, how 'bout I loan you $25?"
         Torey shook his head in disbelief. "What! You've got $25 you can lend me. How can that be?"
         "Yeah. My mom and dad never let me go out without some emergency cash," Addo replied sheepishly.
         Torey answered, "... but $25 is a lot of money."
         Addo turning upbeat, smiled, "I guess. I never thought about it. I think this qualifies as an emergency."
         Torey was overcome with emotion. It was just four days since Addo had said 'Hey kid, you wanna play.' In those four days, they had become fast friends, and now Addo was willing to save him from his own ignorance and make it possible for him to play soccer.
         "I'll pay you back Addo. I promise I will."
         "I know you will. Deal?"
         "Yes."
         Two boys, stood in the middle of a sporting goods store, both grinning, shook hands and hugged, sealing a friendship that would be tested more than either could imagine.
         "You better try them on," said Addo, satisfied with his decision to help his friend.
         "Oh yeah. Good idea."
         Torey sat down on a bench, removed his shoes, and put on cleats for the first time. The fit was perfect, and being used shoes, there would be no break in period. More than that, as he stood up on his new cleats, he imagined a new world opening to him.
         Addo watched silently, then finally spoke, "Hey man, we got your soccer cleats."
         "I can't believe this. This is awesome," said Torey, choking up.
         "I can't wait to play in these," Torey said, bouncing from foot to foot.
         "Those lime green cleats won't match our team uniform," Addo replied, tongue in cheek.
         Torey looked startled. "What! Are you kidding me?" Catching Addo's smile, he laughed.
         They gathered up their treasure and went to the checkout counter, where they each pulled out enough money to total $35 (no sales tax on used shoes). The cashier gave them a bag large enough for both pairs of shoes and combined the packages. They left the store feeling satisfied. Play Again had rescued another young man (Addo Okoro had helped).
         Outside the late afternoon sun had slid behind some of the tall buildings and provided some shade. But the world of concrete and asphalt had been storing up the heat all day, now was the high temperature of the day and it was brutally hot. Torey, Addo, and everyone else sweated just standing still waiting for the bus.
         The heat had slowed everything to a crawl or more accurately a stop. Men sat in doorways, wearing tank tops and jeans, some drinking beer. Above, window fans whirred in the second-floor apartments and music came from a few windows. Here and there someone had brought out a plastic chair to sit outside on the sidewalk.
         Addo broke the silence. "I'm glad you're going to get to play soccer. I think you will be very good."
         "Thanks, I hope so," said Torey, hopefully.
         It wasn't long before the bus arrived. Air brakes hissed, doors clacked open, and passengers exited and entered the bus, exchanging places in the metal cocoon, suffocating even with all the windows open. Torey wondered about the scene in the event of a sudden summer thunderstorm. What would it be like trying to close all those bus windows? What would it be like inside if they succeeded? ... or if they failed?
         The bus was crowded on this late afternoon of an August Saturday. Both boys found seats, but not together. Addo mused on the day just completed. He felt good about what they had accomplished. To him, the day was a success. What will Coach say when I tell him about today's adventure? What will my parents say about loaning a white boy $25 -- and buying his lunch? Will Torey step up, learn the game, and become successful? What will Torey's parents say about the $25? Then there is school, ... and the team, ...and ... zzzzzzz.
         Torey was conscious of the bag in his lap. He wanted to open it and peek in, but resisted. I'm going to play soccer, ... on a real team, he thought, I'll have to get good at handling the ball; need to be able to kick it right where I want it. He thought about his new teammates. From what he could tell, they all seemed to be decent fellows. I'll have to learn maneuvers and how to read the other players, and how to shoot, and I'm going to have to start exercising regular like.
         The trolley pulled into the Allerford Transit Terminal. Torey and Addo got off and walked to the bus stalls to board the bus to Drullins, Torey clutching his bag of treasure.
         Addo, who had been reflecting, finally spoke. "Torey, today was a tough day for each of us in a different way."
         Torey answered, "I guess so," not sure what Addo meant.
         "You think Coach knew how today would work out, and actually set us up for this?" Addo continued.
         "Hmmm ... there's a thought," said Torey.

###

Word Count: 7,826
Readability Consensus (based on 8 readability formulas):
         Grade Level: 5
         Reading Level: easy to read
         Reader's Age: 8-9 yrs. old (Fourth and Fifth graders)