The Brothers' Lot - Kevin Holohan [42]
Finbar felt his palms sweat as Brother Kennedy progressed through the class. Everyone was getting sent out to the line. This was awful. Why should he stand up for Bradshaw and McDonagh like this? Would they stand up for him?
“Me house burnt down last night.”
“Out to the line!”
“Me ma took me pen to bingo.”
Brother Kennedy was more than halfway through the class and gathering speed. Soon he would be in sight of Finbar and then it would be too late for him to hide his copybook.
“The boys from the flats stole me bag.”
“Out to the line!”
Brother Kennedy continued, dismissing ever more ridiculous excuses. It was getting very crowded in the corner and a perversely festive mood was starting to course through the boys. Smalley Mullen leaned over and gently closed Finbar’s copybook and laid it on the floor. He looked levelly at Finbar and his face said it all. Unfair or not, this was something he could not stand out against on his own.
“I sprained me wrist.”
“Out!”
“Me ma had a new baby last night.”
“Out!”
“I did it in me science copy by mistake.”
“Out!”
Finbar looked up at Brother Kennedy’s interrogative face. “Me brother ran away to London and took me bag,” he found himself saying.
“Out to the line!”
“And don’t”—whap!—“you”—whap!—“ever”—whap! whap!— “answer”—whap!—“me”—whap!—“back”—whap!—“again”—whap!—“you”—whap!—“little”—whap!—“gurrier”—whap! whap! whap!
Thirteen! That was a lot to get into one sentence. Brother Kennedy was really out of control. You could see the veins pounding purple against the bright red of his bald skull. McDonagh was the last to be leathered and for some reason had decided to push the Brother just a little farther. All he had said was, “I don’t know, Brother.” Of course it did not help that the question had been: “Have you ever done your homework, McDonagh?” But McDonagh had an amazing talent for filling the most routine utterance with such a blend of willful stupidity and insolence as could push the most even-tempered teacher over the edge. A firebrand like Brother Kennedy presented no challenge at all.
“Now sit down, ye insolent little pup!” yelled the Brother.
McDonagh walked stiffly back to his desk, and in the yard below Brother Boland rang the bell for break. The boys ran for the door and left a purple-faced Brother Kennedy leaning against his desk trying desperately to catch his breath.
A ripple of excitement ran through the whole yard as the bee-baw bee-baw of the ambulance dopplered its way closer. Mr. Pollock met the ambulance at the gate and then cleared a path for it through the gray swarming of boys.
After what seemed like an age, the ambulance men emerged bearing Brother Kennedy on a stretcher. An unnatural groan of disappointment resulted when the boys saw that Brother Kennedy’s face was not covered by the red blanket but by an oxygen mask. He was not dead yet.
“The good Lord must be waiting for Hell to get a bit hotter before he lets that one in,” drawled Spud Murphy quietly from his vantage point at the staff room window.
Behind him Mr. Laverty chuckled with appreciation: “That’s a good one all right. I like that.”
Spud nodded neutrally at Laverty and went back to his chair. He had not yet made up his mind about the seemingly disdainful Laverty.
15
The third Thursday of November dawned as a feeble thinning of the darkness. It was already half past nine yet still dark enough that the streetlights were lit. For the last hundred years the Brothers had celebrated Venerable Saorseach O’Rahilly Day on this day, deemed by scholars to be the fourth Thursday after the first full moon following his death.
Not being prone to wanton acts of frivolity, the idea of giving the boys a day off school in observance of this special occasion had never even entered the Brothers’ heads. This being a centenary, it promised more celebration than usual.
Dermot McDermott’s janitorial ill humor was of epic proportions for this Feast of Venerable Saorseach O’Rahilly. Since a quarter past six that morning he had been in the oratory under