The Zigzag Kid

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Authors: David Grossman
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he was truly sorry, he knew he had broken the rules, but what could he do when little Eliezer here begged to see just once, for the first and last time in his life, what a locomotive looks like.
    Those were his very words. And as he gently smoothed my hair, I saw him give the engineer a significant look, with a nod in my direction.
    At first I didn’t understand what he was saying. He seemed to be lying to the engineer, lying through his teeth, pretending I was, say, a kid he was taking on a farewell trip around the world, to grant my last wishes before I died, God forbid, of some dread disease.
    Impossible, I told myself: the noise in there must have made me hear wrong. I smiled at my own stupidity, a nervous little quarter-smile, because how could such a distinguished gentleman concoct a ridiculous lie like that. I mean, as far as I knew, I was a healthy devil with only the mildest of allergies to grass. But when I looked into the engineer’s eyes and saw the dismay there, I began to think perhaps I had been right in the first place, perhaps Felix really had said those terrible things in his amiably gentle, sincerely plaintive way.
    As for me, I was gone, glued to the side of the locomotive, with the engine roaring up from my heels into my brain. The heat had melted what remained of my wits. It didn’t occur to me that my father would never have allowed Felix to involve me in something like this. I trusted him implicitly. Nor did I shout at him to stop, or tell the engineer he was lying. I merely stood there, gazing at him as though I were in a dream.
    How did he make up an excuse so quickly and tell such a bold-faced lie?
    It would take me years to learn how to control my face the way he did: people can always tell straight off when I’m lying, except Micah, maybe, who for some reason finds my lies extremely fascinating.
    But Felix was an adult—and he had told a lie! And a whopper at that, big enough to stun the engineer. Definitely the wrong kind of lie to tell, if only for superstitious reasons!
    I stood there, frozen.
    But I had to admire him.
    Against my will, albeit aghast at his chutzpah, I admired him.
    That is the bitter truth.
    I was outraged at what he was doing, yes, but also humbly resigned to it. It was as if I had been obliterated, completely wiped out, together with all I’d ever learned and every single finger that had ever wagged “No, no, no!” in front of my nose, and the ghastly furrow between Dad’s eyes that grew ominously deeper whenever he was angry, and loomed over me like a permanent exclamation mark. At the last moment, a faint cry seemed to escape my lips, “No! It isn’t so! This is all wrong!” But just then a joyful squeal went through me, to the accompaniment of the roaring engine and the rattling locomotive, as if I had been whisked off to another world where such things were permitted, where everything was permitted, where there were no stern-faced teachers or forlorn-looking fathers, and you didn’t have to make such an effort to remember what you were and were not allowed to do all the time.
    In fact, no effort of any kind was required of you. As soon as you said a thing, it came to be.
    Like when God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.
    Yes, I admired Felix for tying those people in there, behind the door, just like that, and wasting an expensive silver watch, and for daring to go through a door marked ENTRANCE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN , and for telling the engineer such a horrible lie, the kind of lie it’s wrong to tell. As if it was all a game to him and the only law was his law.
    But I didn’t know the half of what he was capable of yet.
    He was deep into his lie by then and believed in it completely, which is the way to lie if you want others to believe you, like a detective working undercover, and as I watched him, I could feel the heat of the buzzing between his eyes. For the first time in my life I

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