Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?

June 1933

There was plenty of laughter and teasing as Bucky readied for one more round. Steve bit his lip, part of him urging his friend on, part of him hoping that Buck had another quarter in his pocket. Because Steve did not. And they still had to get home.

Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping… Bucky rattled off his shots, felling one tin duck after another. The current of excitement rose, Dolores clapping her hands, thinking maybe this time…

He missed the last one.

If it hadn't been for the girl standing beside him, Steve was pretty sure Bucky would have lost his temper. As it was he shook the gun hard, and muttered, "Applesauce!" under his breath several times.

Finally, he handed the pop gun back to the man in charge of the stall and turned to Dolores. "Shucks, Dot. Sorry I couldn't get that one either."

The red-haired girl laughed and slipped her arm through his. "Gosh, Bucky, you've been trying all day. I don't really need that bear. But you did everything you could." Her brilliant smile would have mollified any boy.

"Alright," Bucky said, cheering up. "Let's go get ice cream." A few others in the gang of high-schoolers chimed in agreeably.

"My turn to treat," Debby, Dolores's twin sister, said.

"And I am too much of a gentleman to refuse," Bucky grinned.

They had finished their cold treats, when Debby announced that she and Dolores should really be going, since it was almost supper. Everyone else agreed.

As they headed out of the park in the direction of the train station, Bucky pulled Steve aside. "Do you still have your train money?"

Steve stared at him, instantly knowing… "No. You borrowed it for hotdogs. You told me you had plenty more."

Buck looked down, opened his mouth once or twice, and then peered at Steve from the corner of his eye. "Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?" he sang.

"You are… incorrigible!" Steve exploded. "You waste three whole dollars trying to get dumb Dot a bear you could buy her from the store for one. And half of that was my money. Now we're stuck in Rockaway Beach, because you are such a jerk!"

For once Bucky had the grace to look ashamed. "Aw, come on, Steve. She wanted it for her little brother and you know he's been sick. All we gotta do is find another way home."

That silenced Steve, and he followed Bucky back into the park. "If we can just find a truck, or somebody," Bucky said, "even if they're crossing the bridge, we can hop off in Brooklyn."

For a little while, they skulked around through the crowds that still lingered. It was Steve who spotted the freezer truck. The name on the door caught his attention: Parlour Ices, 1040 Fulton St. Brooklyn.

He touched Bucky's sleeve and they followed it around the corner. Crouching behind a barrel, they watched it pull up to the back of the ice cream stand.

"Rats," Bucky muttered. "Freezer truck. Don't need you to get frozen. Never mind."

"Fine time to think of that," Steve answered.

He hesitated, just long enough for the driver and the ice cream man to be busy, before he darted forward, pulled the back door of the truck open and sprang in. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness and he shivered involuntarily.

There were several crates and he scuttled behind them, crouching in the corner. It seemed forever before there was another scrambling noise and Bucky joined him.

"Aunt Sarah is going to kill me!" he hissed. Steve put his hand over Bucky's mouth, as men's voices sounded nearby, and the doors were slammed shut. They did not dare move until the engine had started.

When the truck was finally moving, Bucky struggled out of his sweater, and thrust it at Steve. "Put this on," he ordered.

The trip seemed long to Steve, but not a word of complaint crossed his lips. His teeth were chattering so hard he wouldn't have been able to speak anyway. Bucky pulled him close, wrapping both arms around him, trying to keep him warm.

Finally, the truck stopped and Steve could hear Bucky's heart thudding. What if the driver didn't open up the back and they were trapped in here until the cows came home?

There was a lot of banging and thumping after the engine was silenced; then voices. Someone unlatched the doors and swung them wide open. Both boys gasped, squinting at the sudden light.

Two men were talking: "Gotta unload and take her in to the shop."

"Where do we put it?"

"In the back."

They grabbed some boxes and their voices faded as they walked away. Bucky crawled to the door, hauling Steve after him. The late-June warmth washed over them, and as they made their half-frozen way home, Steve and Buck made a pact to never take a free ride in a freezer truck again.

August 1933

His best friend moved a lot slower these days. Bucky entered the room, and fell across the foot of the bed without a word.

Steve didn't really feel like talking either. He hated getting colds, in the summer especially. This one was less cough, and more stuffy nose and headache. He'd been down for the count for five days now.

Sarah Rogers came quietly in, put a Coke bottle in Steve's hand and a Pepsi in Buck's, then left to keep making supper. Slowly Bucky sat up and popped the cap, before scoffing back half of his soda in one breath. He took another swig, then settled back more comfortably, propping his head on Steve's legs.

"How go's it, old boy?" he asked, words slurring a bit with weariness.

Steve shrugged. "It goes." He wasn't going to complain, not when Bucky had spent all day slaving as errand boy in a hot factory.

"Really? Doesn't sound like it has." Bucky sat up again, and leaned over to put his hand on Steve's forehead. His palm was cool from holding his drink.

"Okay, so I still feel like that mouse Patchwork bit the head off yesterday. Hey, did you know Aunt Winnie thinks she's going to have kittens?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Ain't that the cat's pajamas," he said sarcastically, then began to laugh at his own pun.

Mrs. Rogers let Bucky eat with Steve, while she and Mrs. Romano, who was visiting, had supper in the kitchen. When they had finished their usual boiled beef and potatoes, washed down with milk and gingerbread, Steve sat back against the headboard and eyed his friend.

"What's eating you?"

Buck, who was sitting staring at the sketch on the wall of the Statue of Liberty with Ellis Island in the background, started. Steve saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he looked down. "You read minds, too?" he asked.

"Only yours," Steve joked.

With a sigh Bucky stretched out on his stomach beside Steve, propping himself up on his elbows. He picked at the quilt for a while, and Steve grabbed his sketchbook off the nightstand. He would wait as long as Bucky needed him to.

"I'm scared," Buck finally whispered. "Everything was supposed to be better with Mr. Roosevelt and the New Deal and jobs and money." His voice rose. "But Dad gets sick and now he's still sitting at home, and Mother and me can't hardly… Now it's the rent– I don't know." He took a deep breath. "You know how Dad moved us here to try to save money until he could find work."

Steve nodded, biting his lip.

Bucky looked down at the thread he had pulled out of the quilt. "We missed the rent last month," he muttered. "If we miss again…"

"You'll get thrown out," Steve said quietly.

Bucky sat up with a jerk, slamming his fist into the mattress. "It's so not fair! We made it this far. We scrimped on everything, we shared everything you and your mam would give, we got Roosevelt… And now we get the bum's rush."

Steve sat quietly, not sure what to say.

Bucky dug his hand into his pocket and chucked a handful of money on the bed: a dollar-bill and two quarters. "All the money I got and it's going to buy supper tomorrow. Don't even have a dime for Dad to take the subway."

"Yeah, you do."

Bucky looked at him, his face bleak with despair. Steve hauled himself out of the bed, and grabbed his everyday trousers off the back of the chair. He dug his hand in the right pocket. There. Silently he held out his hand, the little silver coin gleaming softly in his palm.

"Take it, pal," he said, smiling. "Go help your dad find a job tomorrow."

Author's notes: I still can't believe Bucky spent $3. That's almost $60 in today's money! I can just hear my sister taking my head off if I did something like that...

Obviously this chapter title is taken from the song Bing Crosby made famous back then.