He sat in the middle of a mass of color, crumpled reds, blues, yellows, and greens surrounding him—bows, ribbons, and wadded balls of gift-wrap. The best part was the presents, a Davy Crockett outfit complete with a gun just like Davy used, a stuffed monkey he’d already begun calling Charlie, a big red Tonka fire engine from Mike, the guy who owned the beer joint where Mama worked. There were Lincoln Logs from Bill and Kevin, Mama’s friends, and even a grown-up football from Mackey, the big Irishman who told funny stories and who could blow the neatest smoke rings you ever saw. Mackey could do tricks, like taking off the top of his thumb, which scared Abbott, and folding down a handkerchief so it looked like there was a little mouse inside. The mouse jumped up Mackey’s arm when Abbott trie
