The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [81]
There was an oblivious look in Vinc’s eye. He still wondered why none of the guys were around.
“But how about leavin’ me take that jit?” said Davey. Vinc watched a kid pass on a bike. He exclaimed:
“Oh!”
Davey asked again. Vinc said that he couldn’t. He didn’t have any money. He wondered why no one was around.
Davey walked down the street, deciding that Vinc was another Irish bastard. Davey suddenly turned around and saw Vinc coming out of the drug store with an ice cream cone. He said he thought Vinc was broke. Vinc said he’d found a nickel in his pocket after Davey had gone. Davey said Vinc was a liar. He said that whenever Vinc got in trouble, he needn’t come around for Davey Cohen to stick up for him. He’d never stick up for a liar like Vinc Curley. Vinc said he was sorry. He said: Hones’ Dave! He got his tongue twisted in explanations.
Davey said the guys were coming. Vinc asked where. Davey pointed in back of Vinc. Vinc turned, Davey grabbed the cone, and blew, Vinc after him, yelling help, murder, robber, stop thief. Davey ditched Vinc in the alley under the elevated tracks.
He walked down Fifty-seventh to South Park, and down back to Fifty-eighth. At Fifty-eighth and South Park, he met Stein, an eleven- or twelve-year-old mamma’s boy. Davey said hello. So did Stein. Davey got hard-boiled. Stein nervously moved away. Davey called him back.
“Where’s your wrist watch and tennis racket?” Davey asked.
“I haven’t a racket, and I’m going to the store.”
“Well, listen!”
“I am.”
“Listen!”
Davey made lip-noises.
Stein turned.
“Commere!”
“I have to go to the store for my mother.”
Davey dragged Stein back, and was going to sock him. He felt powerful. Then he let him go on, and felt even more powerful.
He walked around, and thought how he was going to be a great guy, when things got different, and he got away from the Irish. He would then be understood... He was sad... He came out of his sadness by imagining himself going back to Iris’, socking Studs and then hanging one on Iris.
He met Danny O’Neill. Danny asked Davey if he’d seen anybody. He talked like he wasn’t a punk, but was an older guy. That got Davey a little sore. But even so, he guessed Danny wasn’t such a bad kid. Davey said most of the guys were having a gang-shag at Iris’.
“Yeah!” said Danny, curious.
“She likes gang-shags,” said Davey.
“Yeah!” said Danny, more curious.
“Sure,” said Davey.
“How they doin’ it?” asked Danny.
“They shot craps for turns, and each guy takes his turn.”
“In front of everybody?”
“Be yourself!”
“Gee, you think I could go there some time?”
Davey scorned the punk.
“You’re too young. You ain’t got the stuff of a man.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Well, I do.”
“Were you there?” asked Danny.
“Oh, yeh,” said Davey casually.
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“I didn’t want to. I don’t like bitches,” said Davey.
“Who stayed?”
“Oh, Studs, Weary, Tommy, Paulie, Red, Hennessey, a lot of guys.”
“Yeh?”
Davey sniped a butt, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.
They talked of fighting, and Davey told of all the scraps the Fifty-eighth Street gang had, and what a great bunch it was. Danny asked if Davey could lick Studs, and Davey said he wasn’t afraid of anybody... but then the guys from Fifty-eighth Street stuck together and fought other guys.
After he left Danny, Davey sniped another butt. He thought of Elaine and Ellen. He became proud that he was a Jew. He recalled Chedar, not the beatings, the ugly smells and the dirty rabbi, but the beautiful sing-songed Hebrew, the beautiful-sad history of the Jews. He was proud. The Irish, goddamn them, didn’t have anything like that. He hated the Irish. He vowed he’d blow the place, and go on the bum, see the world, make his own way, come back somebody, and leave them all lump it. He thought of Iris. He remembered how white she had been. The dirty…
He went home to supper, and the old man started chewing the rag.
After supper, he slunk in a corner and read The Lady of the Lake. He read and reread the line:
And Snowdoun’s Knight is Scotland’s