Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [28]
“Neither am I!” said Studs.
“Neither am I!” said Weary.
They looked each other in the eye, and kept staring for several long seconds to prove that they were unafraid of each other.
“No one can get away with takin’ a poke at me,” Studs said.
“Well, I never let anyone get away with takin’ a poke at me neither, and I didn’t intend to start by lettin’ blind Bertha smack me,” Weary said.
“After that she never bawled you out, did she?” Studs said.
“She was afraid of me,” bragged Weary.
“She used to treat me all right. You see, my old man always gave the nuns a turkey on Thanksgivin’ and Christmas,” Studs said.
“Say, by the way, did you see Doneggan take a wham at TB?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, Muggsy McCarthy made some crack when Gilly was speakin’, and Doneggan didn’t like it, so he cracked his puss,” Weary said.
“Yeh! Say! You know TB gets it in the neck every shot. I kinda feel sorry for the guy,” Studs said.
“He’s nuts anyway. I know I wouldn’t take what that loogin takes. I don’t give a good goddamn who it is, nobody is gettin’ away with anything on this gee,” said Weary.
“You know, they got a hell of a lotta nerve haulin’ off on a guy just because they’re priests or nuns,” said Studs.
Studs casually shot his butt, just like all tough guys did.
“Well, if a guy stands for it, that’s his tough luck,” Weary said.
“Yeh, but goofy McCarthy is helpless. Christ, the poor guy’s got one foot in the grave. His brother Red ain’t so bad, but he’s a sap. I tell you he’s fruity,” said Studs.
“The loogin’s rotting away with TB anyway,” said Weary.
“But lemme tell you . . . he’s damn smart. Jesus! You know, if he’d a wanted tuh work, he could of had the scholarship to St. Cyril or any of those schools that hold scholarship exams and give scholarships,” Studs said.
“But what the hell does that mean?” said Weary.
“Nothin’,” said Studs.
“Anyway, I’m glad I’m through with old Bertha, . . . say, gimme another fag?” Weary said.
They lit cigarettes.
“Remember her, how she’d rush down the aisle to hit a guy, and she’d never hit the right one because she’s as blind as a bat and she couldn’t see enough to take the right aim?” said Studs.
They laughed because Bertha was funny, blind as a bat like she was.
“But she is one lousy crab,” said Studs.
“Anyway, I’m damn glad to be out of the dump,” said Weary.
“Me, too,” affirmed Studs.
“But we had a pretty good time at that,” Weary added.
“Yeh, even if we did have Bertha in seventh and eighth grade, and even if we did have guys like Clayburn in the class making it hard for us by always studying,” said Studs.
“Clayburn ought to be in the boy scouts,” Weary said derisively.
They laughed.
“Say, remember the time we shoved bonehead Vine Curley through the convent window, and there was a big stink, and Bernadette lammed blazes out of him when he bawled that he didn’t do it and she said he did and she would break his head before she let him call her a liar?” said Studs.
“That was funny,” Weary said.
“And the time Muggsy hit Bertha with an eraser, and she went sky high, and looked like she’d bust a blood vessel, and she blamed Reardon and nearly put lumps on his head by beaning him with her clapper?” said Studs.
“And the fights we used to have with the Greek kids from the school across the way, and their priest would come over to Gilly, because he and Gilly are friends even if he is a Greek Catholic priest, and Gilly would send Doneggan up to read the riot act to us?” said Weary.
They laughed.
“And remember the time when Bertha fell on the ice?” said Studs.
“That was good because we were off three days,” said Weary.
“You know, about the only decent thing about Bertha was that she was always falling on the ice or getting sick so she couldn’t teach and we were getting holidays,” said Studs.
“Well, Bertha always gave me a pain right here,” Weary said, pointing to the proper part of his anatomy.
A pause.
“Are you going to high school?” asked Weary.
“I don’t know. I