Read Online Sons of the 613 by Michael Rubens - Free Book Online

survivors.” Which, by the way, is not true at all—it was the Russians who slaughtered our ancestors.
    After a while Josh got tired of being SuperJew—my guess is because he ran out of people stupid enough to tease him for it. But even now when it’s time to read the blessings at Passover dinner, we all turn to him.
    I finish my haphtarah.
    â€œJesus,” says Josh, “maybe we can lie, tell them that you’re turning twelve so they’ll postpone it for a year.”

CHAPTER NINE
AN UNEXPECTED NIGHTTIME OUTING
    Â 
    M ERIT B ADGE : U NDERAGE V ISIT TO B AR
    I’d been worrying about what I’d have to blacken for my evening meal, but instead Josh stood up and announced that we were having pizza.
    He lets me sit with him and Lisa at the table as we eat. He listens with an indulgent smile as Lisa tells him all about her day and what she did and the project she’s working on and the book she’s reading and about Debbie Frank’s new dog, a poodle. He ignores me completely, other than to tell me to clear the table and do the dishes before he gets up and walks off.
    Â 
    A little past ten and we’re watching
The Ultimate Fighter,
that show where they put a bunch of MMA guys in a house and they beat the crap out of each other.
    I once asked Josh if he’d thought about fighting in the UFC. He revealed that he’d actually fought in some local events, lying about his age to get in.
    â€œWhat?! What happened? How’d you do?”
    He’d looked at me, confused, like I’d asked if he was potty trained. “How’d I do? I
won.
”
    â€œSo why not do the UFC?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he said. “It just sort of takes the
fun
out of it.” He seemed genuinely sad.
    At the moment I’m settled into the big overstuffed recliner chair, my overtaxed muscles cramping into rocks. Lisa is asleep in her room. So far Josh hasn’t mentioned the tent, and I’m not about to bring it up. The day seems to be drawing to a relatively uneventful end.
    Then Josh checks his watch and stands up, turning off the TV with the remote.
    â€œLet’s go.”
    â€œWhat? Go where? To bed?”
    â€œNo. We’re going. Come on.”
    I follow him out to the car, which is parked in the driveway. The night air is chilly, and I pull my jacket tighter.
    â€œJosh, where are we going?”
    â€œHear some music.”
    â€œMusic?”
    â€œA band.”
    â€œAre you serious? What about Lisa?”
    â€œShe’ll be fine.”
    â€œWhat if she wakes up and we’re gone?”
    â€œI left a note. She has my cell number.” He’s climbing into the driver’s seat. “Get in.”
    â€œI don’t want to hear music, Josh!”
    â€œIt’s part of the Quest. Get in.”
    Â 
    We take the highway toward the city, the skyline growing as we approach.
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œDowntown.”
    â€œDowntown Edina?”
    He laughs.
    â€œDowntown Minneapolis. A club.”
    My anxiety grows. Downtown? The city? I’ve only been in the city a few times, always during the day. True, Temple Israel is nearby, but we always get there in the protective shell of the car, go straight inside, and return in the car again, all without interacting with any dangerous characters or influences. There are weird people downtown. Things could happen. I feel like he’s telling me we’re going to Baghdad. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
    â€œAre you scared?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, stop looking like it.”
    We drive on the freeways, cloverleafing from one to the next until we’re pointing at the skyscrapers, and then we’re leaving the freeways to pull into what looks like a warehouse district, old brick buildings flanking the streets, rising up five or six stories. The upper windows are dark, but here and there on the sidewalk level are restaurants and bars, some with small