Knees pumping, Benji dug in. Parnett Road with its hill was always the hardest part of his route. He wondered why they even built hilly roads. Why not blast them out and make everything smooth flat? He’d asked his Pop Pop after he finished his paper route.

This afternoon he was delivering the Pick And Save. Some days were the Pennysaver Special or the Shopper Showstopper. The only difference Benji could tell was the colors. Stacked with cartoon blue rolled coupon newspapers, Benji’s canvas satchel pulled on his rib cage. Pop Pop told him to not think heavy, think of all the paperboys of all the times delivering papers just like he was doing. Benji thought all the paperboys of all the times probably all thought their satchels were heavy.

Effortlessly the paperboy weaved around impatient cars and unseeing pedestrians. He was fast but cautious. With a quick glance, Benji flung newspapers onto stoops. Perfect spinning paper arcs, each ended with a satisfying plop.

His mom had been so nervous about him delivering papers. Mom made Benji wear a helmet and a reflective vest and lights on his spokes and on the back of his banana seat. Mom quizzed him on stranger danger and read him a road safety pamphlet three whole times. Benji and his grandfather agreed that Mom was kind of extra but it was best not to try her.

At the crest of Parnett, the narrow row houses were replaced with old mansions cut into flats. For apartments, Benji had to stuff the circulars into mail slots, one newspaper for each unit. Stuffing 121, Benji looked up at 122 where the bird lady lived. Most afternoons Benji didn’t see his customers except for the real oldtimers.

Pop Pop told him it pays to be nice. Mom said respect your elders or she’d box his ears if she caught him with a fresh mouth. If the bird lady, who was like 100 Benji thought, wasn’t outside watering her flower boxes, she was in her penthouse kitchen. Benji waved. He always waved. No bird lady. One of the bird lady’s tenants came closer to the window. Benji had seen her before maybe. She didn’t wave back.

Her shirt was splotchy with red. Old but more mom old than grandma old, she must be helping the bird lady paint. Staring wide eyed at Benji, the dirty lady’s paint covered husband stood next to her. That’s nice, Benji thought as he stuffed papers in 122’s mail slot. Next was Mr. No Pants of 126 Parnett. Benji waved to him as well but only when he was on his bike and ready to bike away. Miss Can I Have Extras of 125 was waiting by the mail slot. Benji gave her double the amount and she gave him a quarter and a butterscotch candy.

After stopping to pet the dogs with the fancy walk from 134, Benji sailed downhill on Parnett. Flinging perfect arcs left and right, the paperboy picked up speed. Benji was excited. He was collecting coins with Pop Pop. He loved slipping the worn metal into the navy slots of his coin book. He would turn his treasure pages, each coin at little story. In his peripheral vision, he saw a red Honda inching up behind him. Mo the owner of the bodega shouted something he didn’t understand. Mo was having his afternoon cigar under his awning.

“Hey little man!” Mo shouted. “Watch your six. Drivers be crazy out here.”

Benji pulled over onto the sidewalk. There was a volley of honking horns and the red Honda drove on slowly. The paperboy delivered more circulars and then doubled back to the bodega for an Orange Crush. Mo called it gratis for the working man but Benji just knew it was free and delicious.

Swigging fluorescent orange soda, Benji turned on to Twickenham Terrace feeling lighter. Circulars landed with satisfying plops. He stopped to stroke the ginger cat who suns itself at 37 never noticing the red Honda parked on the corner. Benji waved at trainset guy as he delivered his last paper. He had to remember to ask his grandfather what gratis meant.

Humming, Benji headed through an alleyway shortcut home. He couldn’t wait to look at his new old coin. It was downhill from now on.