The Children (14 page)

Now we are rested, and we begin to climb the rocks. Oh, we climb very carefully, because if you slip here, you will be smashed to bits. And halfway up, we rest on a ledge and look at the river. How beautiful the river is, winding away into the mist like a streak of silver! The world is at our feet, and we are young and happy. Far off, all clouded with mist, lies the city, a thousand tiny houses. The gas tanks break up like gray monsters; the elevated trains crawl like snakes. And over the river, there are bridges and bridges, as far as we can see.

Isn't this a place to forget all things except dreams? Shomake laughs, and I know why he is laughing; he is happy inside of himself. But he is no happier than I am.

We are like two fat bugs in the sun, stretching, drinking in air and warm sunshine. Ollie is forgotten, Kipleg, too. Fights are forgotten. Who will bother us here?

“Less climb,” Shomake says.

So we go up the rocks, hand over hand, thrilling to the great distance under us. And when we reach the top, we sit down to rest. Here, on the top, a cool breeze blows from beyond the river. And the river crawls at our feet, like a thin silver snake. Then, turning around, Shomake sees Ollie and his gang.

“Hey, Shomake!”

Ollie led the way, Kipleg beside him, and behind them the rest of the gang trailed out. The long, weighted stockings swung from side to side, and Ollie's yellow hair blew in the breeze and glinted in the sunshine.

“Hey, Ishky!”

Slowly, Ishky and Shomake rose to their feet. Without thinking a great deal, they knew the purpose of the gang. They went forward hesitantly, Ishky leading the way.

“Hey, Ollie, whereya goin'?” he called.

Ollie grinned.

Kipleg said, “We're gonna git Blackbelly.”

“Where is he?”

“He'll come down, awright.”

“C'mon,” Ollie commanded.

Shomake hesitated. The spell of the river seen from the top of the bluff was still upon him, the peace and the lull of the breeze. And as bitterly as he hated anything, he hated fighting. He held back.

“We gotta go eat,” Ishky explained.

“Yeah,” Shomake said. “I said tuh my mudder I'd be back tuh eat.”

“Yeah.”

Ollie stood in front of them, legs spread, hands on his hips. His insolent, ready grin still lingered upon his lips. “Geesus,” he said. And that was all.

Kipleg said, “All wops an' sheeneys are yella.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Yella as shid.”

“Yuh stinkin' wop.”

“I don' wanna fight,” Shomake protested.

“I tol' yuh he was yella.”

“Areya comin'?” Ollie wanted to know.

“Yeah.”

“Well—” Ishky began.

“Are yuh comin', or ain'ya?” Ollie swung his stocking in a great circle, bringing it close to Shomake's face.

“I ain' done nuttdin' tub. you, Ollie.”

“Are ya comin'?”

“Geesus, givem dere lumps!”

“Kick duh shid oudda duh yella basteds!”

“Awright,” Ishky nodded.

They fell in at the back, with Thomas Edison, who walked with his head hanging down, he was so tired now.

TWENTY-FIVE

D
OWN NEAR THE RIVER, NEAR AN OVERHANGING ROCK
, they held their council of war, and now Ollie nodded significantly at a rope he wore wound around his middle. They all sat in a circle, Ishky and Shomake too, and very often they glanced up at the bluff, where Blackbelly might be expected to appear. They had left their invitation by moving boldly down to the river. If Blackbelly failed to take it up—

Ollie said, “Jus' lemme get my hands on dat nigger, dat's all.”

“Whaddya gonna do, Ollie?”

“Plenny.”

Thomas Edison was good and tired, not a little afraid, too, and he began to whimper. He pressed beseechingly against Ishky, and when Ishky shook him off, he looked at Ollie.

Ollie was explaining the science of battle. “Gittem before dey know what's at. Den kick duh nuts offana dem.”

“Yeah,” Kipleg agreed.

“Don git yella.”

Thomas Edison said, “Ollie—”

“Geesus, whaddya wan' now?”

“Ollie—I wanna go home.”

“Geesus, d'ya wan' me tuh kick duh shid oudda yuh?”

“Naw. I wanna go home.”

“Whatcha leddim come along fer?”

“Nevermin'. You stay here, duh yuh hear me?”

“Ollie—”

“Yuh heard me.”

“Awright.”

“Whaddya got in yer stockin', Ollie?” someone asked.

“Ashes. But I'm gonna use my hands.”

“Whaddya got duh rope fer?”

“You'll see.”

They went to the fountain, then, and they all had a drink. Then they climbed until they were halfway up the bluff, in a small level space. They waited there.

Thomas Edison sat and blubbered, shifting his heavy head from side to side. Deep dread grew upon him, and more than anything else, he longed to be at home with Oloman. He would go to her when it was over, and he would tell her how Ollie had treated him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “yeah, duh dirdy shid.”

And Shomake stood to one side, staring at the ground; already he was trembling, not so much with fear as with hate, hate for Ollie and all the rest.

Kipleg lit a cigarette, passing it around.

TWENTY-SIX

W
HEN THE CIGARETTE CAME TO ME, I PUFFED ON IT.
Maybe you won't understand that, but there is a lot about Ishky that I don't understand myself. I don't want to fight, so why don't I jump up and run away? I don't know. Maybe because the gang was my idea in the first place.

But now I'm afraid. What is Ollie going to do with that rope he has wound around his middle? If I run, I will lose face, and anyway, they can run after me and catch me. Then they would beat me.

I know I hate Blackbelly. Now is my, chance to get back at him, to beat him the way he beat me. Only—

I have to tell you things the way they happened. I have to tell you about this fight, and what came after. You see that Shomake and I are in it already. But we didn't want to fight. Is it any wonder that, when I look up and see Blackbelly and his gang, I am frightened?

They come down slowly, bunching together, and we all gather together, too, even Thomas Edison. Ollie steps to the front, because he has more guts than anyone else. I wonder how soon the fight will start.

The sun is still shining, and that is the strangest thing of all. It comes down through the trees, mottling the ground; I see how it splatters Shomake with light and shadow. And below us, off to one side, is the river, lovely and silver as ever. Why do they want to fight? That is what I ask myself now.

Shomake edges close to me, pressing up against me, and I can feel his body trembling. But I am trembling, too. Then, after all, I am nothing but a coward—no more than that. You are yellow, Ishky. What will I do when the fight starts? Should I run away. But if I do, Ollie will only get me later.

Where are all my dreams now? Where is the happiness that existed between Shomake and me when we spoke about the secret garden?

He saw Ollie's gang, and he realized that they outnumbered him two to one,, or almost. He could turn around and go back, or he could go on. Ahead, there was defeat or glory, and because Ollie had made the odds so big his small wide body swelled with rage.

“Hey, yuh Blackbelly nigger!” Ollie yelled.

Fishface said to him, “Geesus, lookit what dey got. Less git oudda here.”

“You yella basted.”

“Geesus, Blackbelly, dey'll kick shid oudda us.”

“Will dey?”

Blackbelly advanced slowly, swelling all the while with rage and hate. He swung his stocking around his head. Let them bring on ten or a dozen or a hundred. Let them.

He climbed down, until he stood face to face with Ollie, and behind him the rest of the dark boys came. They stood in a small cluster, waiting for Blackbelly, waiting for Ollie.

Perhaps if Blackbelly noticed one thing more than anything else then, it was Ollie's splendid beauty. Just a little higher than Blackbelly he stood, but slimmer, his insolent grin playing about his lips. His blue eyes blinked and sparkled, and his yellow hair tossed upon his head. He was laughing at Blackbelly. Blackbelly saw Ollie's beauty. Perhaps he saw other things, too, for he saw the line of rope wound around Ollie's middle.

His heart beat with anger, with hate. He wanted to claw the smile off Ollie's face. He longed to be alone with Ollie. There would be other times when he would be alone with Ollie.

The boys behind edged up to Blackbelly. He was secure, stout and solid.

“Lookit duh nigger basteds,” Kipleg laughed.

“Shuddup!” Blackbelly snapped.

“Whaddya gonna do?” Ollie wanted to know, swinging his stocking.

“Do what we wanna.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“S'pose we ain' gonna leddya?”

“Try an' stop me, white boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Blackbelly waved a hand at his gang. “C'mon,” he said.

“Whereya goin'?” Ollie demanded.

“Down dere.”

“Oh no.”

“Doncha try tuh stop us, white boy!”

“G' wan den.”

“C'mon—”

Blackbelly took a step, and Ollie sprang at him, catching the swinging stocking upon one shoulder. In a moment, the two gangs were together, punching, swinging stockings, clawing at, tearing at each other. Only Thomas Edison hung back. Ishky and Shomake were launched into it. A colored boy sprang at them, and they fought back, instinctively.

N
OW, FOR
just a moment, I have forgotten that I am afraid. I remember only that I hate all niggers. This isn't Blackbelly, but what difference does that make?

A stocking hits me on the face, scratches me, but I hardly notice it. Now I don't seem to know anything, except that I am fighting. Shomake is crying, swinging awkwardly with his fists. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ollie and Blackbelly, rolling over and over.

How long will we fight? Already, it seems that we have been fighting forever. Perhaps we will fight forever.

TWENTY-SEVEN

S
HALL I FIGHT FOREVER
?
IS THIS THE SAME ISHKY, WHO
is now battling like a wild beast? I have fought before, but there was never such a fight as this. This is kill or be killed, and I am no longer a human being, but a beast.

They don't give up. Time passes, and it seems that hours have gone by, though it cannot possibly be as long as that. Yet they don't give up.

We can't stop fighting. Brown flesh is under me, and then brown flesh is on top of me. We roll on the ground, holding tight to each other, and then we beat at each other's face.

I catch one glimpse of Shomake. Now he is fighting with someone else—Shomake who never fought with anyone before. You must understand that—to understand this madness of ours. We are not fighters, most of us. I am not a fighter, Shomake is not a fighter, yet now we are fighting like wild beasts. You must understand that, and you must understand how completely mad we have gone.