© Шитова Л. Ф., адаптация, сокращение, словарь, 2022

© ООО «ИД «Антология», 2022

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Chapter 1

Cockeye Hymie leaned across his desk. “Hey, Max. Listen, will yuh^[1], Max?” he pleaded.

Big Maxie looked at our teacher, old Safety-Pin Mons, sitting sternly at her desk at the head of our seventh grade class. He put his paper-bound Western on his lap and looked disgustedly at Cockeye. His eyes were sharp and direct; his manner, calm and authoritative. His tone was scornful.

“Why don’t you just read your book and shut up?”

He picked up his Western and muttered, “Pain in the ass^[2].”

Cockeye gave Maxie a hurt look. He slouched in his seat, feeling abused. Maxie eyed him good humoredly over the top of his book.

He whispered, “All right, all right, Cockeye, what’s on your mind?” Cockeye hesitated.

“I dunno. I was just thinking,” he said.

“Thinking? About what?” Max was getting impatient.

“How about we skip school^[3] and go out West and join up with Jesse James and his gang?”

Big Maxie gave Cockeye a look of deep disgust. He stretched his long muscular arms, far above his head. He yawned, and nudged me with his knee. In wise-guy fashion he spoke through the corner of his mouth: “Hey, Noodles, did you hear the dumb cluck^[4]? Go ahead, you talk to him. Jesus, what a schmuck^[5].”

I leaned over to Cockeye, with my usual sneer of superiority, and said: “Why don’t you use your noodle^[6]? Them guys are dead, long ago.”

“Dead?” Cockeye repeated, depressed.

“Yeh, dead, you cluck,” I sneered.

He said, “You know everything. You got some noodle on your shoulders. Hey, Noodles?” I ate up his flattery. “You’re smart, that’s why they call you Noodles, hey, Noodles?” He laughed again in the same fawning manner.

I shrugged in false modesty, and turned to Max, “What else can you expect from a putsy^[7] like Cockeye?”

“Expect what, about Cockeye, Noodles?” tough-looking Patsy asked. He sat on the other side of Max.

Miss Mons shot a warning angry glance in our direction. We ignored her.

Patsy brushed his black hair away from his bushy eyebrows. He asked: “What did the stupid cluck say this time?”

Fat little Dominick, closest to Cockeye, gave the information. In his high-pitched voice he said, “He wants to go out West and join the Jesse James Mob. He wants to ride a horsey.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

Cockeye smirked in embarrassment. “Aw, fellas, cut it out, I was only kidding.”

“Pssst. The old battle axe^[8],” Patsy whispered.

An enormous disheveled figure came down the aisle. Her big hips were covered with a multitude of black skirts fastened with safety pins. She stood looming over us. “You – good-for-nothing^[9] young tramps – what are you up to^[10]?”

Miss Mons was bursting with rage^[11]. She snatched the Western thriller out of Cockeye’s hands. “You… you… hoodlums! You… you… gangsters! You… you… East Side bums^[12], reading such trash! Give me that filthy literature immediately.”

She stuck her hand under Maxie’s nose. Slowly, impudently, Maxie folded the Western and put it in his back pocket.

“Give me that book instantly!” She stamped her foot^[13] savagely.

Maxie smiled sweetly up at her. “Kish mir in tauchess^[14], dear Teacher,” he said in distinct Yiddish^[15].

I could see by her shocked expression she understood what part of the anatomy Max wanted her to kiss.

For a second the class sat in shocked silence. Then a chorus of suppressed giggling started. For a moment she glared angrily around the room. Then she retreated to her desk, her backside bouncing in angry rhythm.

Dominick slapped his left hand on the middle of his stiflyf extended right arm: an obscene Italian gesture.

Maxie made a vulgar noise through the side of his mouth. The whole class broke into a laughter. Miss Mons stood in front of her desk watching the noisy scene. She was shaking in uncontrolled fury. After a moment she became quiet and cleared her throat. The class became still.

“You five hoodlums will get your just deserts^[16],” she said. “All through the past term I have had to put up with your filthy, vulgar East Side conduct. Never in my entire teaching career have I come across such vicious young gangsters. No, I am mistaken.” A triumphant smile played on her lips. “Years back I had some scalawags^[17] of like character.” Her self-satisfied smile broadened. “And I read in last night’s paper all about the illustrious end of two of them. They were rufaif ns exactly like you.” She pointed her finger dramatically at us. “I’m sure that you five, in due time^[18], will also complete your careers in the same manner as those two – in the electric chair!”

Our teacher took a heavy brass watch out of the folds of her black skirt. “Thank goodness, only fifteen more minutes before the bell,” she said.

She sat looking at us with a half smile on her face, pleased, enjoying the end she had predicted for us.

Maxie took his Western out of his back pocket. With an insolent look at the teacher he slouched down behind his desk. The rest of the class went back to work.

I listened to the familiar noise of New York’s lower East Side through the open window: the outside commotion was like a dissonant operetta. The police trafifc whistle was the orchestra conductor’s starting signal. The blare of truck and passenger car horns were the wind instruments^[19] playing up and down the scale^[20]. The whining of hungry or sick infants was the sad music of the violins, and the distant rumble of the trains was the beat of the bass viol^[21]. The mixture of voices in a lot of dialects was the background chorus, and the thunderous singsong of the peddler calling his wares, was the male lead.

Forever after these sounds of the streets of the East Side stayed in my memory.

I came back to reality after a few moments. I looked around at Big Maxie, Patsy, Dominick and Cockeye Hymie, wondering what they were thinking. I visualized all of us on horses, six-shooters^[22] in our hands. That would be fun, I thought. I laughed to myself – me, Noodles, having kid ideas. Another few months I’ll come of age^[23]. And I still have these silly thoughts, like Cockeye Hymie. I laughed to myself.

“What’s funny, Noodles?” Max put his book away and looked at me. “Nuthin’, just thinkin’. I dunno^[24] – about Cockeye joining the Jesse James Gang.”

“Yep, pretty dumb, that Cockeye. We join up with them, them small town guys.” Maxie smirked. “When we get started, we’ll show them.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “We’ll make a million bucks robbing banks and then quit.”

Dominick asked, “A million for the five of us, Max?”

“Nah, a million apiece^[25]. How would you like a million bucks, Noodles?” Maxie was very serious.

“A million? Yeh, I would like it, but maybe a half a million is enough and we quit. A million bucks is a lot of bucks, Maxie,” I said.

“Maybe a half million is a lot of bucks for some guys, but for me it’s gonna be a million.” Max looked defiant.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeh, all right, so we’ll go out for a million. What the hell’s the difference now?”

“We gonna quit when we get a million?” Patsy asked.

“Yep, we’ll quit and move up to the Bronx and be big shots^[26].” Maxie’s tone was final.

“Hey, fellas.” Cockeye leaned over. “How much is a million bucks?”

Maxie slapped his head in disgust. “How d’ya like that question? The guy is past thirteen and he asks how much is a million bucks?”

Dominick cut in, “Cockeye, you’re a real cluck, a million bucks is a million bucks.” “Yeh, that’s right,” Cockeye smiled, “but how much is it? You tell me, Dommie. How many thousands?”

Dominick scratched his head. “I think a million is ten thousand bucks.”

“Whattcha^[27] talkin’ about, it’s more than fifty thousand, ain’t it, Noodles?” Patsy jeered.

I was proud. I knew all the answers. That’s why they called me Noodles. I said importantly, “It’s ten hundred thousand bucks!”

Pat smiled. “Yeh, I was just gonna say that.”

The bell rang; we grabbed our books. The rest of the pupils stood respectfully to one side as we made for the door. Miss Mons stood up. She put her hand out to stop me as I passed.

“You!” she said authoritatively. “Who, me?”

I was ready to push her aside. Maxie stood beside me ready to help. “Yes, you, young man. Mr. O’Brien wants to talk to you.”

“The principal, again?” I said in dismay. “What for?”

“None of your questions, young man. You just march upstairs.”

I turned to Maxie. “Wait for me, I’ll run up and see what the old cluck wants.”

Max walked with me to the stairway. “We’ll be outside if you need any help,” he said. “Holler and we’ll come up and throw the old bum out the window.”

“Nah, he’s all right, he ain’t such a bad guy, this O’Brien.” “Yep, for a principal he ain’t too bad,” Max agreed.

He walked outside. I waited until he was out of sight. I did not want him to see me take my cap off. I knocked on the door. A pleasant bass voice said, “Come in, please.”

I stood politely at the open doorway. “Did you want to see me, Mr. O’Brien?” I said.

“Yes, yes, come in.”

His large red face smiled a welcome. “Come in and shut the door. Have a chair, young man. I was looking through some of your test papers; they are very good.”

He looked at me. He frowned. “But your application for work papers^[28] is a disappointment to me.”

I sat opposite him, feeling uncomfortabe. He pushed his chair away from his desk and tilted his chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head.

He took his time about talking.^[29] He just looked at me. Then suddenly he stopped rocking and leaned across his desk.

“According to your school reports, you are an exceptionally intelligent boy. I thought I would talk to you —”

He stood up and began pacing the floor. “Now don’t take this as another lecture. You haven’t many more months of school here, so your behavior one way or another isn’t too important to us – but,” he raised a finger dramatically, “your conduct from here on is very important to you and to you alone. This moment may be a turning point^[30] in your life. I repeat, if you weren’t an intelligent boy, I wouldn’t try to make you understand the road you and your companions are following – the road that leads to no good. Believe me.” He said it earnestly.

I sat thinking, let the old man talk himself out. What does he know about boys, an old guy like him? Yeh, he’s at least forty-five with one foot in the grave. He’s a good Irishman, though. And for a principal he’s the best we ever had.

The principal continued, “Your environment is partly to blame. Do you understand what I mean by environment?”

For a moment I forgot myself. “Do I know what environment means?” I sneered. He laughed. “I forgot, you’re the one they call Noodles; you know everything.” Quickly, I changed my manner. I mumbled, “Environment. You mean the East Side?”

“Well, yes and no. Very many successful and good people have been born and brought up in this neighborhood.” He stopped and looked at me for a moment. “The last scrap^[31] you and your friends were in – what was the real reason for it? Why did you boys do it?”

I shrugged.

“Do you know what I’m referring to?”

I shook my head. I was lying. My face was burning. How did he know about it? “You know what I’m referring to.” His voice sharpened.

“I’m talking about Schwartz’ candy store, the one you and your friends broke into a few days ago.”

I wanted to sink through the floor^[32]. So he knew. So the hell with him^[33].

“Don’t you realize that if it wasn’t for your rabbi and the priest of your Catholic friends, and a little help from me, you boys would have been sent to an institution of correction^[34]?”

I shrugged. That’s what he thinks, the cluck. He don’t know who squared the rap^[35] for us. I wonder if I should tell him it was Big Maxie’s uncle, the undertaker, who squared it? He went to Monk, the gangster, and Monk went to the Tammany district leader, and he’s the guy who gave the judge his orders, before the rabbi, the priest, or O’Brien ever spoke to him. Dumb clucks, all of them. Monk and the district leader – there’s two guys to keep in with. They’re everybody’s boss – police, judges, everybody.

“I’m talking to you, young man. Why don’t you answer?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn’t look him in the face. He continued pacing up and down. “I ask you, why did you do it? For the mischief? The money? Tell me, boy, do you get any spending money from your parents?” “Sometimes, when my father works,” I muttered.

“Is he working now?” I shook my head.

“How many times have I told you it is impolite to shake your head or shrug your shoulders. Speak up.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

He threw up his hands in despair. “Oh well – there’s another thing I’d like to know.” He hesitated for a moment. “All term I have been curious why it is you and your companions do not eat the hot free lunches provided for in the school? Instead, I have noticed you boys play basketball in the yard every day at lunchtime. You’re pretty slim, and I imagine you could do with^[36] hot soup at midday.” His tone was kindly and hesitant. “Tell me, is it because it isn’t what you call kosher?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it don’t mean a thing to me, kosher.” “Why then? I’m interested to know. What’s wrong with the lunch?” “Soup,” I said derisively.

“Soup?”

“Yeh, charity soup,” I muttered.

“Hmmmm… yes, unfortunately, it does seem that soup and bread is the main dish to be supplied free of charge^[37].”

“Soup schools,” I said contemptuously.

He smiled sadly. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before. Soup schools. Well, let’s forget soup for the moment, shall we?”

I nodded.

“All right, all right, where were we?” he asked, smiling. “Oh yes, your father is one of the unfortunate unemployed?”

I nodded. He shook his head sadly and sighed deeply. “That’s why you put in your application for working papers? And why you aren’t going to finish public school? You want to go to work and make money to help your family?”

“Yeh.”

“It’s very good, but wouldn’t you rather continue school?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, yes or no?” I shrugged again.

“Look. I want to help you. I can help you if you change your ways. Keep away from your companions, continue going to school. Only by learning —” I cut him off. “I can’t finish school. I gotta go to work. My father ain’t working.”

“How long has your father been out of work?”

“How long? About three months.”

“Hmmmm.” O’Brien rubbed his chin. “Well, I have an idea and I’ll do it in your case. You’re intelligent and fundamentally all right.”

He hesitated. Then he added, “I think, you can still develop into a good and successful citizen. I’ll have a social agency look into your case and help your family, so that you can continue your schooling. Keep away from bad companions.” A confident smile broke over his face. He thought he’d solved the problem. “Well? Isn’t that a good thing? They will help you to help yourself. You will continue your studies, and by behaving yourself you can succeed. I see you’re pretty good in mathematics. Why not continue and try to be a bookkeeper, possibly an accountant? Specialized knowledge is like a sharp knife. It will help you cut your way through the problems of life to your goal. To success. You understand what I mean?”

Yeh, I knew what he meant, but I played dumb^[38]. “Yeh, I’ll get myself a big knife,” I said.

He got angry for the first time.

“Damn your stupidity,” he exploded. “I thought you knew what I was talking about.”

I shrugged. I was getting annoyed.

“Well?” his voice was agitated.

“What?” I made out I didn’t understand.

He stared at me. I lowered my eyes. Then he knew that I understood what he meant.

Yeh, I knew what he meant. He wanted me to continue school, break away from Max and miss out on the million bucks we’re gonna make on heists and everything. I’m gonna get help from a social agency? Huh! Everybody will look down on us. Charity, feh. What good is education? I had enough for what I wanted to do. I can write. I know arithmetic. I can read. I’m smart. I use my noodle. Yeh, that’s why people call me Noodles. Yeh, and I’ll get me a real sharp knife. That’ll be my knife of specialized knowledge.

O’Brien stood in front of me, a stern expression on his face.

I stood up. I felt heroic. “I don’t want or need your charity. I’m quitting school.”

He was a pretty good guy. I felt sorry for him. He seemed so sad for me, for all of us kids.

“All right, all right, that’s all, son.” He patted me on the back. I walked towards the door.

I turned and said, “Well, will I get my working papers?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me and sighed hopelessly. I was insistent. “I want them, Mr. O’Brien,” I said.