Angelo's Saturdays
High School: Grades 9–12
Story
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Noticing a dead workhorse stopped Angelo from daydreaming over the rooftops any longer. It was anybody's guess when the city would pick it up, if at all. 2 It was such a common sight that the young children running past it didn't even seem to notice. They continued their game, scampering up and down the alley, in and out of dilapidated wooden sheds, jumping over piles of rotting vegetables and meat bones and little cesspool puddles.
Because Angelo's work as a newsboy required that he get up early, the darkness helped to shield these sights from him. In between sales, he would shine shoes or maybe pitch pennies with a friend. 3 Today, however, he was not a newsboy. He washed his face and hands as best he could. With a kiss and "I'll see you later," he left his mother. With a spring in his step he ran down one flight of stairs to the Gentiles's apartment.
Angelo paused before knocking on the Gentiles's door. Then he took a deep breath and knocked. Vito ran out, grabbing his arm as they ran down the stairs. Today was Saturday, and they were going to Hull House.
Vito was two years older than Angelo, and Angelo saw their walks to Hull House as his only chance to learn this strange, flat-sounding language called English. Vito would say a word or phrase and then Angelo would try to imitate him.
"Say, 'Hello,'" Vito would command as they walked. Angelo's mouth would move slowly, but he could barely utter this odd, guttural sound. "Aaaaallo." Vito would roll his eyes and command, "Again!"
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"Good day," was easier, but the "wh" sound as in "Where is... " was as troublesome as "Hello." Vito's impatience grew quickly and he would start exclaiming in Sicilian, "You know, Angelo, if you can't even say 'Hello!' and 'Where is the post office?' or whatever, you will never get out of that stinking alley!"
Angelo's blood would boil, but he would try and try again. When something remotely sounding like English might emerge from his lips, Vito would grudgingly shrug his shoulders and exclaim, "That's O.K., but it won't get you far on Prairie Avenue!"
They would continue to walk briskly north from their home on Taylor to Polk Street and then five blocks east toward Halsted. They passed crowded tenement after tenement. Some were small frame houses and others were built with brick. Wooden window frames that needed repair hung down; front entry doors missed knobs; steps were either ill-repaired or missing. Children hung out of windows and seemed to fill every nook and cranny between the buildings. But the boys hardly seemed to notice the surrounding sights. Upon reaching Halsted, they turned south and headed toward the mass of solid brick buildings known as Hull House.
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