up on. We ganged up on. There he is, lying with a queer leather collar up around his neck and a pained look in his eyes.
It made him angry all of a sudden. “But look here, Meyer, what do you do?” This was unjust. It was unfair. That Meyer couldn’t get a scholarship if he earned it, that Ned could never play first for the Detroit Tigers. Gosh, it was wrong, all wrong.
“What do we do? We don’t do anything. We learn to take it. That’s why you’re in our league now, Ronald, and that’s what you’ve got to do, learn to take it.”
Thank goodness he didn’t add, “and like it.” No one in his senses could do that. Meyer was right. At the Academy he hadn’t taken it; he hadn’t taken the silent treatment, the unfriendliness, and all the rest. He’d gotten up and walked out. Now he had to learn to take it.
Only if there was all this unfairness, all this injustice, why did older folks like teachers and the principal and the Duke talk about America? And democracy. And all that sort of thing. Why did they? Why?
“Look, Ronny, since this... since that game... since I got to seeing you so often, I can tell you things you maybe don’t know. Now take that trick Stacey pulled on you in the cafeteria the other day...”
“What! You mean to say he did that on purpose!” It was the kind of thing which could never happen in the Academy. Nobody there would think of humiliating another boy before the school. He saw suddenly that not all the meanness and cruelty was in the Academy, that it was here, too, right around him, a different kind perhaps; but there it was.
They looked at each other; the boy in bed amused, for the first time a sort of smile on the lips above the leather collar. And sitting at the foot the boy who had helped put him there, shocked and worried.
“Why, sure he did. But look, he’s a good guy, Stacey is. Yes, really. Only he thinks you aren’t one of us, understand. At heart he’s an ok guy.”
“Takes a funny way to show it,” remarked Ronald.
“Sure. That’s Stacey. He’ll ride you, but give him time. He’s not a bad guy. I know. He likes to make folks think he’s tough.”
“Oh! Is that his trouble?”
“Yeah. Now you’re in the same situation I was. He’ll ride you plenty, all he can. Tried to pull that stuff on me, and finally I told him, I said, ‘Looka here, Stacey, lay off me or I’ll poke you in the puss.’ I’m bigger’n he is, so he quit. Then we became friends, good friends, too. So’ll you.
“Maybe.” Ronald in his distress doubted it.
“Of course. Only you mustn’t let him get away with anything. Call him sometime and he’ll quit. He’s ok; I know you mightn’t think so after what he did up in that cafeteria, but he’s a good guy, honest he is. He thinks right, get me? Understand?”
In a way he did understand. It was hard to believe about a boy who’d stick his foot out in the cafeteria on a stranger; it was hard to believe about that fresh kid with straight red hair and the freckles and the queer clothes. But if he thought right, after all, that was what counted. Ronald felt he could trust Meyer Goldman. If Goldman said so, it must be so. Besides, many of them like Keith and Tommy wore the right clothes, shirts with collars that buttoned down and saddle shoes, only they didn’t think right. They were nice guys, but they didn’t think right. That was what counted, and if Goldman said so, it must be so.
He went down the steps to the street, thinking hard. The picture ahead was not attractive. Ronald hated fights, scraps, brawls, especially when people were around. Well, I’m in their league now, Meyer’s and Ned LeRoy’s.
For the first time since arriving at Abraham Lincoln High he saw the funny side of the thing. You were the best back on the Academy team, and you ended up in the league with Meyer Goldman and Ned LeRoy. This he had hardly expected that morning up in Keith’s room on the Hill when he’d exploded out of Hargreaves, out of
It made him angry all of a sudden. “But look here, Meyer, what do you do?” This was unjust. It was unfair. That Meyer couldn’t get a scholarship if he earned it, that Ned could never play first for the Detroit Tigers. Gosh, it was wrong, all wrong.
“What do we do? We don’t do anything. We learn to take it. That’s why you’re in our league now, Ronald, and that’s what you’ve got to do, learn to take it.”
Thank goodness he didn’t add, “and like it.” No one in his senses could do that. Meyer was right. At the Academy he hadn’t taken it; he hadn’t taken the silent treatment, the unfriendliness, and all the rest. He’d gotten up and walked out. Now he had to learn to take it.
Only if there was all this unfairness, all this injustice, why did older folks like teachers and the principal and the Duke talk about America? And democracy. And all that sort of thing. Why did they? Why?
“Look, Ronny, since this... since that game... since I got to seeing you so often, I can tell you things you maybe don’t know. Now take that trick Stacey pulled on you in the cafeteria the other day...”
“What! You mean to say he did that on purpose!” It was the kind of thing which could never happen in the Academy. Nobody there would think of humiliating another boy before the school. He saw suddenly that not all the meanness and cruelty was in the Academy, that it was here, too, right around him, a different kind perhaps; but there it was.
They looked at each other; the boy in bed amused, for the first time a sort of smile on the lips above the leather collar. And sitting at the foot the boy who had helped put him there, shocked and worried.
“Why, sure he did. But look, he’s a good guy, Stacey is. Yes, really. Only he thinks you aren’t one of us, understand. At heart he’s an ok guy.”
“Takes a funny way to show it,” remarked Ronald.
“Sure. That’s Stacey. He’ll ride you, but give him time. He’s not a bad guy. I know. He likes to make folks think he’s tough.”
“Oh! Is that his trouble?”
“Yeah. Now you’re in the same situation I was. He’ll ride you plenty, all he can. Tried to pull that stuff on me, and finally I told him, I said, ‘Looka here, Stacey, lay off me or I’ll poke you in the puss.’ I’m bigger’n he is, so he quit. Then we became friends, good friends, too. So’ll you.
“Maybe.” Ronald in his distress doubted it.
“Of course. Only you mustn’t let him get away with anything. Call him sometime and he’ll quit. He’s ok; I know you mightn’t think so after what he did up in that cafeteria, but he’s a good guy, honest he is. He thinks right, get me? Understand?”
In a way he did understand. It was hard to believe about a boy who’d stick his foot out in the cafeteria on a stranger; it was hard to believe about that fresh kid with straight red hair and the freckles and the queer clothes. But if he thought right, after all, that was what counted. Ronald felt he could trust Meyer Goldman. If Goldman said so, it must be so. Besides, many of them like Keith and Tommy wore the right clothes, shirts with collars that buttoned down and saddle shoes, only they didn’t think right. They were nice guys, but they didn’t think right. That was what counted, and if Goldman said so, it must be so.
He went down the steps to the street, thinking hard. The picture ahead was not attractive. Ronald hated fights, scraps, brawls, especially when people were around. Well, I’m in their league now, Meyer’s and Ned LeRoy’s.
For the first time since arriving at Abraham Lincoln High he saw the funny side of the thing. You were the best back on the Academy team, and you ended up in the league with Meyer Goldman and Ned LeRoy. This he had hardly expected that morning up in Keith’s room on the Hill when he’d exploded out of Hargreaves, out of
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