Read Online B004QGYWKI EBOK by Mario Vargas Llosa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mario Vargas Llosa
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endless and greedy tongue of fire licked my back, my shoulders, my cheeks, at the same time that the eyes of everyone in the school turned in my direction. Was Lou looking at me? Was he envious? Were the Coyotes looking at me? From behind, someone patted my arm twice, encouraging me. The principal spoke for a long time about God, about discipline and the supreme values of the spirit. He said that the administration’s doors were always open, that the truly courageous should come in to face up to the consequences.
“To face the consequences,” he repeated: now he was authoritarian. “That is, to talk face to face with me.”
“Don’t be a sucker!” I said quickly. “Don’t be a sucker!”
But he’d already raised his hand when Ferrufino saw him take a step to the left, breaking ranks. A satisfied smile crossed Ferrufino’s mouth and vanished immediately.
“I’m listening, Raygada…” he said.
As Raygada spoke, his words gave him courage. He even managed, at one moment, to wave his arms dramatically. He asserted that we weren’t bad and that we loved the school and our teachers; he reminded him that youth was impulsive. In the name of all of us, he asked for pardon. Then he stammered but went on:
“We ask you, Mr. Principal, to post an exam schedule as in past years…” Frightened, he grew silent.
“Take note, Gallardo,” said Ferrufino. “The student Raygada will come to study next week, every day, until nine at night.” He paused. “The reason will go down on your report card: rebelling against a pedagogical decree.”
“Mr. Principal…” Raygada was livid.
“Seems fair to me,” whispered Javier. “Serves him right.”
2.
A ray of sunlight pierced the dirty skylight and ended up caressing my forehead and eyes, filling me with peace. Still, my heart beat faster than usual and at times I felt short of breath. A half hour was left before dismissal; the boys’ impatience had settled down a little. Would they respond after all?
“Sit down, Montes,” said Professor Zambrano. “You’re an ass.”
“Nobody doubts that,” asserted Javier, right beside me. “He is an ass.”
Could the rallying cry have reached every grade? I didn’t want to torment my brain all over again with pessimistic assumptions, but I had my eye on Lou a few feet away from my desk, and I felt anxious and doubtful, because deep down I knew that what was at stake was not the exam schedule, not even a question of honor, but a personal vendetta. Why give up this lucky chance to attack the enemy when he’d dropped his guard?
“Here,” somebody next to me said. “It’s from Lou.”
I accept taking command, with you and Raygada . Lou had signed twice. Between his signatures, like a small blot with the ink still shining, there appeared a sign we all respected: the letter C, upper case, enclosed in a black circle. I looked over at him: his forehead and mouth were pinched; he had slanted eyes, sunken cheeks and a strong, pronounced jaw. He was watching me intently: maybe he thought the situation required him to be cordial.
I answered on the same piece of paper: With Javier . He read without shifting and shook his head yes.
“Javier,” I said.
“I know,” he answered. “Okay. We’ll give him a rough time.”
Give who? The principal or Lou? I was just about to ask him but the whistle for the end of the period distracted me. At the same time, the shouting rose over our heads, mixed with the noise of pushed desks. Someone—Cordoba maybe?—whistled loudly as if trying to stand out.
“They know already?” Raygada asked, on line. “To the embankment.”
“What a fast thinker!” somebody called out. “Even Ferrufino knows.”
We went out the back door fifteen minutes ahead of the lower grades. Others had left already and most of the students had stopped in the street, forming small groups. They were talking, fooling around, shoving each other.
“Nobody hang around here,” I said.
“The Coyotes
“To face the consequences,” he repeated: now he was authoritarian. “That is, to talk face to face with me.”
“Don’t be a sucker!” I said quickly. “Don’t be a sucker!”
But he’d already raised his hand when Ferrufino saw him take a step to the left, breaking ranks. A satisfied smile crossed Ferrufino’s mouth and vanished immediately.
“I’m listening, Raygada…” he said.
As Raygada spoke, his words gave him courage. He even managed, at one moment, to wave his arms dramatically. He asserted that we weren’t bad and that we loved the school and our teachers; he reminded him that youth was impulsive. In the name of all of us, he asked for pardon. Then he stammered but went on:
“We ask you, Mr. Principal, to post an exam schedule as in past years…” Frightened, he grew silent.
“Take note, Gallardo,” said Ferrufino. “The student Raygada will come to study next week, every day, until nine at night.” He paused. “The reason will go down on your report card: rebelling against a pedagogical decree.”
“Mr. Principal…” Raygada was livid.
“Seems fair to me,” whispered Javier. “Serves him right.”
2.
A ray of sunlight pierced the dirty skylight and ended up caressing my forehead and eyes, filling me with peace. Still, my heart beat faster than usual and at times I felt short of breath. A half hour was left before dismissal; the boys’ impatience had settled down a little. Would they respond after all?
“Sit down, Montes,” said Professor Zambrano. “You’re an ass.”
“Nobody doubts that,” asserted Javier, right beside me. “He is an ass.”
Could the rallying cry have reached every grade? I didn’t want to torment my brain all over again with pessimistic assumptions, but I had my eye on Lou a few feet away from my desk, and I felt anxious and doubtful, because deep down I knew that what was at stake was not the exam schedule, not even a question of honor, but a personal vendetta. Why give up this lucky chance to attack the enemy when he’d dropped his guard?
“Here,” somebody next to me said. “It’s from Lou.”
I accept taking command, with you and Raygada . Lou had signed twice. Between his signatures, like a small blot with the ink still shining, there appeared a sign we all respected: the letter C, upper case, enclosed in a black circle. I looked over at him: his forehead and mouth were pinched; he had slanted eyes, sunken cheeks and a strong, pronounced jaw. He was watching me intently: maybe he thought the situation required him to be cordial.
I answered on the same piece of paper: With Javier . He read without shifting and shook his head yes.
“Javier,” I said.
“I know,” he answered. “Okay. We’ll give him a rough time.”
Give who? The principal or Lou? I was just about to ask him but the whistle for the end of the period distracted me. At the same time, the shouting rose over our heads, mixed with the noise of pushed desks. Someone—Cordoba maybe?—whistled loudly as if trying to stand out.
“They know already?” Raygada asked, on line. “To the embankment.”
“What a fast thinker!” somebody called out. “Even Ferrufino knows.”
We went out the back door fifteen minutes ahead of the lower grades. Others had left already and most of the students had stopped in the street, forming small groups. They were talking, fooling around, shoving each other.
“Nobody hang around here,” I said.
“The Coyotes
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