Notes

are mc for this story william aston william aston is a tell 23-year-old he his long black and red hair and red and black jacket and black pants and had some black and red Jordan's on his feet. he looks like a bad boy but really he is just the opposite. he lives in a small town called altoonasville north of rochester with his parents and brother and sister and sometimes his little cousin when she visits from the city.
the town was a good place to live lots of nice people who knew everybody in it and everyone looked out for one another. they were friendly and helpful and there was never any crime or violence because everyone knew each other and would keep an eye out for anything that seemed strange.
there wasn't much to do but go to school, play basketball at the community center which was only open after 5 p.m., go to the movies, hang out with friends, get into trouble or stay home and read a book.
william loved all those things except reading books. he liked playing sports most especially basketball and baseball and football and hockey and soccer and tennis and golf and you name it. so if he could have been doing something else than reading books he would be happy as a clam.
he wasn't very bright though and even though he was a year younger than most of the kids in the fourth grade he had to go to the fifth grade class room and learn all the same stuff as the older kids did.
he also didn't know how to study so his grades weren't very good and he got picked on by the boys and girls in the fourth and fifth grades because he couldn't catch up with them when it came to doing homework and tests.
his mom and dad thought it was embarrassing for him to be getting such poor grades but they didn't say anything because they were afraid of making him feel bad about himself so they just made sure he was doing well in gym and music and art classes and let him take tests and quizzes at home.
his mom and dad are both teachers and they told him that since he was doing so poorly in reading and writing that he should try to find a summer job so he could make some money for college and not have to worry about paying for everything while he was there.
so he went around to different businesses and asked them if they needed a delivery boy or a soda jerk or someone to clean their store and they said no. then he finally found a shoe repair shop that was willing to hire him to work after school and on weekends cleaning shoes, shining the boots, polishing the silver buckles and stitching the heels and putting on new rubber soles. he wouldn't get paid very much but it would help pay for his school supplies and maybe even buy him a pair of Jordans.
it wasn't until the day before he started working there that he realized the job would be a lot harder than he thought and that it would cost him more than he thought too.
"you'll be doing a little bit of everything," the old man told him. "but you'll mainly be fixing shoes. the shoes here are mostly worn out and broken down so we don't keep many extra parts around."
william sat in front of a large wooden cabinet filled with tools and leather goods and spools of thread and lace and other little things he didn't recognize. he saw a row of shelves along the wall that held hundreds of pairs of shoes and boots and sandals and sneakers and slippers and they were all neatly lined up on the shelf and stacked two high and three deep and four wide.
"all you have to do is put them away," said the old man. "don't worry about putting them in order. just stack 'em wherever you think they ought to go."
william took several pairs from the top shelf and stacked them together. then he carried them over to one of the big tables in the middle of the room.
"do you know how to use that?" the old man asked pointing to a machine sitting in the corner.
"what's that?" william asked.
"that's a sewing machine," replied the old man. "we use it to fix holes and tears in the leather."
"no I don't know what that is," said william.
"well it's pretty easy," said the old man. "you just feed the material through the hole in the needle and pull it tight against the edge of the shoe and then you push the button and it stitches the edges together. now don't run the machine while you're using it because it can get hot and burn your hands."
"okay," said william. "I won't do that."
he looked around the room again and decided to start by cleaning out the dust from the shelves and then he'd move on to sweeping.
"why don't you give me a hand," he said to the old man. "I'll show you how to put shoes away and you can teach me how to stitch them together."
they worked side by side for a couple of hours and then stopped for lunch. they ate sandwiches and drank sodas and then went back to work.
after a few hours the old man told william to go home and come back tomorrow morning.
"how long is this going to take?" asked william.
"a lifetime," said the old man. "you'll probably still be working here when I die."
william laughed and left.
the next morning when he came in he found a note taped to the door that said "william, please leave your shoes in the hall instead of bringing them inside. thanks. mr. aston."
so he went to the hallway and hung his shoes up on hooks.
"oh my god!" exclaimed the old man. "you've ruined them! you must have used the wrong kind of cleaner or something."
william looked at the shoes. they were all dirty and scuffed and scratched. the polish had rubbed off in places and the rubber soles were all torn and cracked.
"don't ever do that again," said the old man.
william sighed. "okay," he said.
the old man went into the back room and came out with a roll of tape and he taped the shoes back together and re-polished them and replaced the broken straps and gave them a new shine.
he took the shoes from william and placed them back on the shelf.
"now you're ready to work," said the old man.
william went back to the shoe repair shop every day after school and on the weekend and he learned how to put shoes together and he cleaned out the cabinets and swept the floor and wiped down the tables and scrubbed the machines and organized all the leather scraps and took the trash out behind the building and emptied the waste baskets and fixed his own shoes too.
one day he noticed a pair of Jordans on a shelf in the back and he wondered where the old man got them.
"I don't remember buying these," said the old man. "but I guess they belong to you."
william took them down and tried them on. they fit perfectly and felt great. he wanted to keep them but he figured the old man might want to sell them so he hung them back up and continued working.
one afternoon he was cleaning out the bins under the tables when he heard a noise coming from the front of the shop. he looked through the window and saw a guy wearing a big white tuxedo and holding a gold umbrella and carrying a briefcase that looked like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"who the hell is that?" asked william.
"somebody important," answered the old man.
the guy walked right past the front counter and into the back room and shut the door.
"I wonder what he wants?" asked william.
"maybe he needs his shoes repaired," said the old man.
william finished his work and went home for dinner.
when he came back the next morning the tuxedo and the briefcase had disappeared and so had the shoes.
"where'd he go?" asked william.
"I don't know," said the old man. "probably to the bank or something."
william went home for lunch and when he came back he saw a big black limousine parked in front of the shop and a chauffeur standing outside waiting for the door to open.
william went inside and waited by the door while the chauffeur pulled out a long cloth bag and dropped it on the floor.
"what's in there?" asked william.
"this," said the old man. "a pair of shoes."
william stood by the door watching as the old man opened the box and lifted out a pair of shiny red sneakers.
"you're gonna put these on," said the old man. "then you're going to walk around outside for five minutes and then come back in here and take them off."
william looked at the shoes. they were size 12 men's sneakers with red laces and red rubber soles.
"why?" he asked.
"because that's what the guy who sent them here told me to do," replied the old man.
"and why should I do that?"
"because you're gonna take care of those shoes when you're done," said the old man. "and you're gonna keep them nice and clean and maybe you can wear them someday."
william hesitated for a minute and then he shrugged his shoulders and took off the sneakers he was wearing and put them in the box with the others.
he slipped the red shoes on and tied the laces and then he stepped outside onto the street.
it was a beautiful day and he was walking down the sidewalk when he noticed an old lady sitting on her front porch swing. she was knitting a sweater and looking at him.
he smiled at her and waved and kept on walking.
after a few minutes he turned a corner and saw a group of teenage boys hanging around a street corner smoking cigarettes. he frowned and started to walk faster but then he remembered what the old man had told him to do so he slowed down and pretended to be interested in what they were talking about.
he walked past them and then he turned another corner and walked past a group of people passing out flyers for something or other and when they noticed him they all started yelling and screaming and waving their arms and calling him names.
he ignored them and kept going.
it was starting to rain so he stopped under an awning near a restaurant and put his hands in his pockets and waited for it to stop.
when it did he crossed the street and passed some more people handing out pamphlets and cards and handbills and posters.
they weren't saying anything but they all looked angry and suspicious and they were glaring at him as he walked by.
there was a police car parked down the block and a cop was leaning against it with his feet up on the running board. end of chapter 1