Read Online The Zigzag Kid by David Grossman - Free Book Online Page A

appeared over my own lips. It emanated from me, in a fine white line that rose to the surface, like a scar. My brow, too, was creased with effort, like a pro’s. Even our hands moved in sync, and I could actually feel the sensations in his fingertips, their tingling nerves, because I had touched them.
    The people on the other side of the glass stared at him uncomprehendingly. They were transfixed. The man in the top hat bent his knees as though he couldn’t make up his mind whether to stand up or sit down, with one hand hanging limply in midair and his mouth forming a mute, astonished O. The other man, the roly-poly bald fellow, gawked at Felix with a silly smile of disbelief. From behind those two, the woman who looked like Grandma Tsitka peered out, her lips stretched tight with amazement, just like Tsitka, though unlike Tsitka, she didn’t say a word.
    And neither did I. It was the most fantastic thing I’d ever seen in my life: here was an adult, an old man, in fact, doing things that would have gotten a kid like me permanently expelled from school!
    And maybe this is what was so thrilling about it: that someone could be like me and still be an adult.
    Felix had no time to waste on the passengers. He made sure the doors were chained fast, grabbed me by the arm, and pushed me toward the locomotive, flashing a smile like blue lightning. “Everything all right now! We must to go!” he said.
    â€œBut—but,” I protested, “the people in there are … They won’t be able to …”
    â€œLater, later! In the end will come explanation! Hi-deh!”
    â€œWhat about the watch?” I groaned. Please, let him take the watch at least.
    â€œWatch is not important! Time is important. Not to waste it! Hideh!”
    â€œWhat does hi-deh mean?” I shouted as we ran.
    Felix stopped in surprise. “Young Mr. Feuerberg does not know what hi-deh means?”
    We stood face-to-face, both panting. The train rocked as we rounded the bend. Sounds sort of like Heidi, I thought, but wisely said nothing.
    â€œHi-deh is like ho-pah!” Felix laughed, grabbing my hand and bounding ahead with me. “Like ‘Go go go!’ Like ‘Giddyap!’ ”
    â€œAh.” I understood at last. “Like ‘Yempa!’ ”
    We ran through car after car, as the scenery went flying by, outpacing us on the wooden legs of the electric poles. A long green line of eucalyptus trees rushed past, and then a field of sunflowers, and mounds of earth, and straight ahead, more corridors and cars and doors. Sometimes the passengers seemed to glance up and raise their hands in a mute cry of surprise. Maybe they were the people Dad and Gabi had sent to meet me, only I couldn’t stop, Felix was pulling me so fast, not that I wanted to stop, and suddenly we were in the very last corridor, where a sign on the heavy door said: ENTRANCE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN , and Felix, who may or may not have known how to read Hebrew, pushed the handle till the heavy door gave way, and there we were, inside the locomotive.
    The noise there was even louder. A giant in a filthy undershirt was standing with his back to us, leaning over a big steel box.
    He didn’t turn around as we entered but only roared, “Engine’s runningdown again! Second time today!” Felix closed the door behind us and bolted it shut. It was blazing hot and right away I started sweating. And the noise, I already told you how noise affects me.
    Felix winked at me and tapped the engineer on the shoulder.
    The engineer raised himself heavily, turned around, and gaped in surprise.
    He must have been expecting somebody else, an assistant or a mechanic or someone, and he demanded to know who we were and why we had barged into the locomotive. He had to shout to make himself heard over the din, and Felix smiled at him so bewilderedly, it was enough to break your heart. Leaning toward the engineer, he shouted in his ear that