The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [91]
“But listen, Kenny! ..”
“Never mind, Red. You guys meet me at Sixtieth and Prairie. Take a little time getting there, and wait. I won’t be long. It’s just a matter of finding a Guinea peddling bananas.”
He shot off. They shrugged their shoulders, and walked slowly down towards the meeting-place.
“We won’t be seein’ much of this burg for a long time,” said Red.
“I guess not,” said Studs, melancholy at the thought of leaving. Did Red feel the same way? He didn’t like to ask be-cause he’d never had a friend he could feel sure of in talking about things like that. Everybody might feel that he was soft and yellow. But, gee, he was leaving the burg, and everything. He was game. He wasn’t backing down. But he did feel a little, well, sad at the idea of blowing.
“Think your old man will put in a squawk when he finds out?” asked Red.
“Gee, I wonder. I’m afraid he might.”
“I don’t know about mine. I don’t think he will, but I ain’t positive.”
“If mine does, I’ll just raise all holy hell with him,” Studs said.
“I guess the best thing to do is not to tell them. We’ll just blow, and then, when we’re sure they can’t crab our act, we’ll let them know. Anyway, Kenny’s old lady will probably just say good riddance. He won’t have any trouble,” said Red.
Studs wished he had parents like Kenny’s old lady. He seemed to do anything he wanted to without ever having any trouble about it at home.
“Say, Studs, what’s happened about school?”
“I won’t have to worry about it any more now.”
“I know, but has your old man found out?”
“No! But if he does, Jesus! He’ll throw cat-fits all over the house. I haven’t gone in months, and last winter I got sixty bucks from him for tuition and books and blew it in,” said Studs, laughing with a pride of achievement.
“He isn’t wisened up then?” said Red.
“Not yet.”
“Got any more cigarettes?” asked Red.
Studs shook his head. Red sniped a butt from the street.
“Too bad we can’t get more of the guys to go,” Studs said.
“Aw, they’re yellow! They all said they would, and where are they? Tommy Doyle, today of all days, giving us that crap that he has to help his old man. Say, that bastard hasn’t helped his old man or old woman do anything since he was an infant. That crap!”
“Yes,” said Studs, thrilling with a feeling of his superior courage.
“And Weary Reilley, the tough guy, saying they can keep their war,” said Red.
“His name ought to be Schultz or Hoffman, the way he talks,” said Studs.
“Well, let ‘em. We’ll do our duty, and we’ll have our fun, too. With Kenny around we’ll have a hell of a time,” said Red.
“And if we do get killed, it’ll be for our flag, and you know, a soldier dying for his country don’t have to worry about going to Hell. It’s like a martyr’s death,” said Studs.
“We won’t get killed. We’ll just kill the Germans,” said Red.
“What’ll we join?” asked Studs.
“I’m all for joining the Marines,” said Red.
“Me too, the devil dogs,” said Studs.
“There’s where that screwy big elephant Jeff lives,” said Red, pointing to a three-story apartment building next to a vacant lot between Fifty-ninth and Sixtieth on Prairie Avenue.
“The punks all over the neighborhood are digging trenches,” said Red, pointing at trenches which had been dug in the vacant lot.
“It’ll be nice coming around on leave in devil-dog uniforms before we go across,” said Red.
“Yeah,” said Studs, thinking of how he would go to mass in his uniform, receive everybody’s congratulations, even be seen by Lucy. And he’d go back and see Battling Bertha too.
“We’ll be among the first from the neighborhood to go. Lee Cole was the first. But that’ll be something, because we’re younger, and not even expected to fight,” said Red.
“Yeah,” said Studs, a sense of martyrdom and nobility plunging extravagantly within him.
“I’m kind of anxious to get the thing settled, and sign on the dotted line,” said Red.
“Me too,” said Studs.
They sat on a fence at Sixtieth and Prairie Avenue in front of the home where that punk from St. Patrick’s,