Kevin's new social worker was Mr. Justin Jarvis, and Kevin didn't like him one bit. He was constantly smiling, and he spoke in a smooth, soft voice that made Kevin nervous.

Most annoying was the knowledge that Kevin depended on Mr. Jarvis completely. Kevin's mother was in the madhouse. Mr. Jarvis called it a psychiatric facility- but it was a madhouse, nothing else - and Kevin's mother was mad. She had gone mad the day Kevin's father had been in the accident at the methane works - the day he had been deprived of speech, sight, and hearing, and the use of his legs. Dad was in the veteran's hospital now, little better than a vegetable. When Kevin was taken to visit his father, all he could do was sit and star at the broken form in the wheelchair. His father horrified him, and made him feel angry. How could you leave me like this? Kevin thought.

What was Scott Shapiro, Kevin's father thinking about in the wheelchair? Was he remembering the day he had been blown into darkness and silence forever by the exploding methane tank. Was he remembering that last morning, before the accident, before his wife, Cynthia, had gone mad? Was he remembering the news that had come that morning, that Kevin's sister, Isobel, had been arrested for prostitution?

As far as Kevin knew, Isobel was still downtown, working the bars across the street from the bus station. He wished he could talk to her. Isobel had always been the only one in the Shapiro family who understood Kevin.

Maybe some day Isobel would be brought to the alcoholism treatment center where Kevin was staying. There was always a chance of that. Kevin had done his earliest dinking with Isobel.

If the vice squad ever caught her, they might bring her to the alcoholism treatment center. She wouldn't be sent to regular jail- after all, she was only fifteen- just two years older than Kevin.

Kevin felt the wad of money in his sock. He had earned sixty-five dollars that morning, selling pills to the other kids in the treatment center. In addition, he had twenty dollars he had stolen from Mr. Jarvis.

So here was Kevin, a thirteen-year-old alcoholic, pusher, and thief. His mother would probably never get well, his father certainly wouldn't, and his sister was turning tricks on State Street. It seemed to Kevin that there wasn't a chance in the world that he would ever get his life straightened out.

And he was right. So we hit him over the head and fed him to the pigs.
 

(Pinkwater, Daniel, "Young Adult Novel", Young Adults, New York: Tom Dorerty, 1985)

Back to: The Table of Contents of Kevin Shapiro, Boy Orphan

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