Read Online The Shipwrecked by Fereshteh Nouraie-Simone - Free Book Online Page B

ruled.
    â€œThis damn place should be closed down,” I heard Haj Yadollah’s voice behind me. He then told the womento stay away. There were some children milling around among the adults.
    Two men, in black hats, went into the café. They slammed the door behind them so hard that the mermaid with the goblet in her hand was visibly shaken.
    Every time I passed the café, I pretended I did not look at the mermaid’s golden locks and curvaceous body.
    Now I surveyed the crowd and saw that our headmaster and some upper-classmates from our school had joined in, ready for action.
    Sohrab tapped me on the shoulder. “Look over there,” he said, “There’s your dad.”
    Sure enough, there he was by the newsstand talking with some men from work. He looked upset.
    â€œDarn it!” I blurted out. “I think we’re in trouble.”
    â€œWhat do we do now?”
    â€œDuck your head. Maybe he won’t see us.”
    â€œWhat then? He ain’t blind.”
    It occurred to me he might be there to protect the café. After all, he was a regular customer.
    â€œMore trouble,” Sohrab warned.
    â€œWhat’s the matter now?”
    â€œHussein Jumbo and his gang!”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œI swear on my father’s grave,” he said. “You’ve got eyes. Look for yourself.”
    Sure enough, they were approaching from a side street, waving clubs and sticks over their heads.
    â€œThey’re welcome,” I bragged, pretending not to be intimidated.
    â€œLet’s get the hell outta here.”
    â€œOver my dead body,” I said, defiantly.
    â€œGutsy again, huh?” Sohrab sneered. “Have you forgotten about that night?”
    THE NIGHT SOHRAB was referring to had happened the previous summer when we were hanging out and had noticed the new bouncer in front of Mermaid Café. He was such a big fellow that he could block the whole doorway with his body. He refused admittance to Hussein Jumbo and his gang.
    â€œMonsieur’s 1 orders,” he boomed.
    â€œYou must be kidding,” said one of the boys.
    â€œYou’re asking for it,” said another, menacingly.
    The bouncer remained unmoved. He stepped aside reverently, allowing two regular customers in.
    The gang members, standing to the side of the café in relative darkness, kept taunting the bouncer, hurling insults at him. One of them, known as Abbas the Loner, stepped out of the dark, staggering. “I’m going in,” he announced boldly. “Get lost, out of my way,” he said, but he stepped back when he saw the size of the bouncer.
    Another member, short and plump, rushed toward the café entrance. From his pants pocket he produced a switchblade knife and pointed it threateningly at the gigantic bouncer—from a safe distance. “To hell with Monsieur. I’m coming in,” he yelled at the bouncer, who beckoned to him to come forward.
    Sohrab, standing next to me behind the boxwood hedge, was excited, anticipating the spectacle of a free-for-all between the bouncer and the gang. He started laughing uncontrollably. He was almost bent double in a paroxysm of laughter, attracting the attention of Hussein Jumbo, who ordered his gang to come after us. We sensed the danger and ran as fast as we could down the back alleys and if it hadn’t been for Mozaffari the policeman nearby, we would have been torn to pieces.
    SOHRAB TAPPED ME on the shoulder. “They’ll recognize us, don’t you think?” he asked anxiously, pointing to Hussein Jumbo and his gang.
    â€œSuppose they do. What of it?” I answered, trying to sound unconcerned.
    â€œRemember? You soiled your pants that night,” he said.
    â€œShut your trap! Or I’ll chop your head off.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll shut up. But it looks like we’re in deep shit.”
    I looked back and noticed Hussein and his gang working their way