I said, None of my business.
“I’m just saying,” Berman said.
Yeah, it’s none of anyone’s business, really, right? Not even your friends’.
“I totally agree. Believe you me. I got seriously burned for bringing it up, didn’t I?”
Scorched, I said. I said, I wouldn’t mess with Ruth.
“Believe you me,” he said.
Berman had been shaking my hand since “No idea.” Here he finally let go. Then he clicked, and flashed the gun again. “So wuddup, June Dub?” he said. “Long time no—”
“Joshua Berman, get to class,” Miss Pinge interrupted. “The rest of you. ISS starts in about ninety seconds. I suggest you choose a desk.”
They all did as they were told, Berman chopping air near his temple as he left.
“What a dentist,” June said.
Yeah? I said. Yeah, I said.
June squeezed my hand.
You guys know June? I said to the Five.
“Nice to meet you, June!” said The Levinson. “I’m Mr. Goldblum,” said Mr. Goldblum. “You can call me Shpritzy,” said Shpritzy. “This boy right here is Glassman,” said Pinker. “And this young soul who so kindly just introduced me is a fellow known affectionately as Pinker,” said Glassman.
By the time they got to Shpritzy, June was laughing her face off, and I loved her so much. Everything was fine.
They’re best buddies, I told her.
She balled fists around her hair and pulled toward her shoulders, her freckles all fading in the flush of her face as she began to squeak and hyperventilate.
“June’s laughing.” “At us or with us?” “Who cares? She’s pretty.” “Still, I hope it’s with us.” “Ask her.” “She can’t talk right now.” “Is it with us, Gurion?”
She likes you guys, I said.
“Who is she, anyway?” they said.
We’re getting married, I said.
“Mazel tov!” they shouted in unison. Then they started to clap. The sound was slightly muted by their batting-gloves, but their celebration brought me joy nonetheless.
Soon the clapping gave way to high-fives, and a roll of pennies fell from Pinker’s pants pocket. Mr. Goldblum kicked it to Shpritzy. Shpritzy rolled it with his hand to The Levinson, and The Levinson swooped the roll up and over, onto the lap of Glassman. Glassman stuck it in the pocket of Pinker’s that was opposite the one it had fallen from.
Miss Pinge cleared her throat, looking dizzy.
She said, “You’re cute, but the clowning stops after the tone, under-stood?”
“You’re really nice, Miss Pinge. Isn’t Miss Pinge really nice?” “She’s so nice.” “She’s so nice, she should be the spokeswoman for an important charity because she’d raise millions.” “Probably even billions.” “She should go on Oprah.”
Brodsky’s door opened.
Maholtz, the Co-Captain, and a mangled Shlomo Cohen exited. Eyes on their shoes, they adjusted their ties, but none took a seat at the open ISS desk.
I said, Tattle and asskiss your way outta trouble?
“I can’t waint til Bam seends what you did,” said Maholtz.
And what’s that? I said.
I really didn’t know.
Maholtz said, “Tch.” Shlomo Cohen and the Co-Captain echoed it.
Then Pinker honked his dickhorn at them, and soon the other four honked their dickhorns at them, too. I thought honking my dickhorn might ick June, but I wanted to back the Five, so I just said, Honk, and kept both my hands far away from my wang.
Out came the gym teacher, stiff in his suit. As soon as he saw me, he glared.
“Don’t vibe at boo,” said June.
“Don’t what at who?”
Don’t rhyme with wifey, I told him.
“You don’t even speak correct English,” said Desormie, “and that is a testament.”
“A testament?” said The Levinson. “Testament’s like testicles,” said Mr. Goldblum. “Patriarchs grab the ones on their sons when they’re making a promise,” said Pinker. “Patriarchs grab thighs,” submitted Shpritzy. “Thigh’s a euphemism,” retorted Glassman. “How do you know?” “Cause it’s called a testimony, not a thighamony.” “Their dads touch their shvontzes?” “Their bollocks.” “Their yarbles.” “Still, that’s pervasive.” “Pervy.” “Right. Pervy.” “Except it didn’t used to be in the old days.” “These days, though, to touch your son on the nutbag—” “These days it’s total pervasion.” “Perversion.”
Desormiation, I said.
“What?” said Desormie.
I showed him my palm and pointed at it.
Delivered, I said.
That was the last word that I would ever say to him.
“Come on,” he told his basketballers.
They followed him into Main Hall, away from ISS.
The Five got up in arms.
“They just get to leave? Where’s the justice?” said Pinker. “This is a testament.” “Balls!” “Why do they get to leave, Miss Pinge?”
Miss Pinge said, “Look around. Do you see any room in here for three more desks?”
“But yesterday Mr. Brodsky said—”
“I miscalculated,” said Brodsky, emerging from his office. “They’ll serve ISS on Monday, though.”
“So they get to go to the pep rally.” “I smell a rat.” “The rat smells like Desormie.” “A testimonious sack is what it smells like.”
“You’ll go to the pep rally, too,” Brodsky said. Then he left to go to the bathroom.
“What about the Orthodox kid?” “Where’s he at?” “There’s still an empty desk.” “It’s saved for that Elijah, right?”
Hey, I said.
“What?” “What’s wrong?” “What’d we do?”
I said, When Eliyahu comes in here, you make him your best buddy.
“You can’t just make someone a best buddy like that, Gurion.” “It takes time.” “There’s a whole set of things that goes into it.” “We’ve never even seen a movie with him on Sunday.” “Let alone on seven consecutive Sundays.” “And batting gloves?” “Forget it — we’ve never even watched a game on TV with him.” “He might be a Sox fan.” “Best buddies, at this juncture, even if we wanted to… it’s impossible.” “We can do friend, maybe even pal.”
Pal shmal, I said.
“Good pal.”
Sounds pally to me, I said to June.
“It does,” June said.
“Now she’s weighing in?” “Fine.” “She says good pal sounds pally, maybe it’s pally.” “Straight-up buddy’s the final offer.” “Can we really do that, Mr. Goldblum?” “Franklin Gurstein. Three weeks ago. Precedent’s been set.” “That’s different.” “How’s it different?” “Franklin Gurstein told us what frottage was, and the Brumpy.” “And the Dirty Sanchez and the Angry Dragon.” “He told us all about the Ray Charleston Chew.” “Point taken. But maybe this Eliyahu can tell us what something dirty is?”
He can teach you words for penis in Yiddish, I said.
“We know all those words.” “Shvontz.” “Putz.” “Schmuck.” “Shlong.” “Pizzle.”
There’s more.
“How many?”
At least ten more.
“If he can teach us ten more, we’ll call him Buddy.”
Five more and good buddy, I said.
“Good buddy’s too much.” “Just a half-step below best.” “Straight-up buddy, Gurion.” “And only if he asks.” “And he has to teach us seven words for penis in Yiddish.”
“That’s enough with the penis,” said Miss Pinge.
“Miss Pinge said penis.”
Miss Pinge bit a smile back.
Pretty good buddy, seven words for penis, and he doesn’t have to ask, I said.
“There’s no such thing as pretty good buddy.” “Who ever heard of pretty good buddy?” “Pretty good buddy’s a unicorn.” “A winged unicorn.” “A horned Pegasus from Atlantis with rainbows in its eyes.” “Work with us here.”