And it was true that Benji had long been despised by most of Aptakisic, and that Vincie had long been despised as well, and the others on the Side by association, and true the ex-Shovers hadn’t themselves been so beloved either, neither by their fellow Israelites nor by the Side, and it was true, finally, that I had been wrong — that there was, at present, animosity here, enmity even — but I nonetheless believed what Eliyahu believed: Because all those soldiers on the Side were my brothers, and because all the Israelite soldiers were my brothers, and because I had led them and because I was leading them, and because we had, all of us, fought together, I believed that they could — I believed that we could — dissolve any and all enmity between us.
And I saw that the others believed it too. Brooklyn had said, “To be forgiven,” and all of us leaned and slackened and sighed.
All except for Benji, who made the noise “Tch.”
To which Josh Berman responded with “Tch.”
And everyone stiffened, postures adversarial, their collective intake of breath a long hiss.
And I saw that one of them had to be removed. It didn’t matter which — at least it didn’t seem to. I watched Berman’s eyes go to Nakamook’s hand, which was visibly throbbing. Berman, no doubt, saw an exploitable weakness. I saw my out: Nurse Clyde’s Office to get fixed up. Benji’d go quiet. He’d lose no face, nor would the Side — no one would.
Yet I couldn’t take Benji away just yet — he’d see right through me if I just said: Benji, your hand needs attention. I needed a spoon to replace the baby’s knife. Something needed to happen to change the subject. Something relevant, preferably urgent. An act of God. The ceiling falling in. An earthquake. A fire. Something that didn’t emanate from me.
Brooklyn, baruch Hashem, was aware of this.
“Gurion,” he said. “Any word from the scholars?”
“What scholars?” said Berman, eyes off Benji’s hand now.
And I realized the Israelites didn’t know about the scholars — I hadn’t told them. They’d helped attack the school without any assurance they’d get away with it. And then they must have become afraid, and gathered together on the bleachers afraid, which must have made the Side afraid of them—for the Side was greatly outnumbered by them — and sensing the Side was afraid of them, the Israelites must have grown afraid of the Side, and by the time I’d returned from the firemen to the gym, the 64 I’d left behind were but 44 and 20.
That the Israelites didn’t know about the scholars — this was a good thing. A great thing, even. For not only could I tell them, which would quell their fears, but I needed to tell them. It was urgent I tell them. And anyone could see that, Benji included.
“What scholars?” they said. “Which scholars?” “Who scholars?”
An army of scholars is coming, I said.
“When?” they said.
Soon, I said. They’re supposed to arrive at eleven o’clock, but the el’s moving slow and the weather’s probably delaying them, too, plus they might have missed all the rush-hour Metras. They’ll get here, though, they’ll take us out of here, you’ll all be safe, and you’ll blame this on me.
“Who will believe us?”
Who won’t believe you? Isn’t it true?
“In a way it’s true.”
A way that everyone’ll want to believe, I told them. It’s never the rioters who go to prison — it’s only the guy with the megaphone inciting them. Who’s got the megaphone?
“You’ve got the megaphone.”
All of your parents will be dying to believe you. All of our teachers will be dying to believe you. Nobody will want to believe anything else. Not even Brodsky, who’s sitting there, bound, hearing us conspire.
“All due respect,” an ex-Shover said. “How do we know that you’ll fess up to everything?”
You don’t, I said, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t need to fess up to anything to protect you. There’s seventy-nine of you and one of me. What’s anyone’s word against ten contradictions, let alone nearly eighty? This school is dead, I said, and we’re the ones who deaded it. Now we just have to hold it til the scholars arrive. Do what I say, and that won’t be a problem, but we have to move fast, and we can’t fight each other. We are, every one of us, brothers.
No one disagreed, at least not aloud, and Josh Berman said, “So what should we do?”
First of all, I said, you should give me some room here. I’m breathing more brotherly breath than I’d like to.
Laughing much harder than the comment warranted, the soldiers all back-stepped and opened up the huddle. They stretched and they yawned and they cracked their knuckles.
I asked which ones had their cellies on them. Seven Israelites raised their hands. I told six of them to call their mothers and repeat the following: “Mom, this is [insert soldier’s name]. I’m calling to tell you two things. First of all, I’m safe. Secondly, Gurion ben-Judah says to tell you we’ll all be safe as long as the authorities stay fifty yards back. I have to go now.” I programmed Botha’s number into the seventh soldier’s phone and handed the phone to Eliyahu.
That’s the only number you answer, I told him. And that’s the only number you call, okay?
“Okay,” he said. “Look.” He pointed over my shoulder.
Boshka and Chunkstyle were entering the gym, pushing television carts.
“Where’s the outlets?” said Chunkstyle.
Find them, I said.
Once the callers finished calling, I had them turn off their phones. I gave the phones to June and she put them in her bag.
“Hi,” June said.
Hi, June, I said.
She leaned in close. “I’m worried,” she whispered.
We’ll be fine now, I said.
She squeezed my hand.
A phone started ringing.
“That’s mine,” said an Israelite. “The power button’s jiggly.”
I took out its battery.
“But what if that was my mom calling back?”
“What if?” said Eliyahu.
“She’s worried,” said the kid.
And the rest of the callers said the same of their own moms, and many of the non-callers asked why they couldn’t call their moms.
I said, There’s no way to make it so your mothers don’t worry. All of your mothers. We’ll be on TV soon if we aren’t already. Word will spread. They’ll be worried either way.
“That is suck.”
Less suck, I said, than if the cops come in here. You’ve called your moms, you haven’t told them any lies: you’re safe and you’ll stay safe as long as the cops stay back. Your moms will make it known to the cops that you’re safe. Your moms will make it known that your safety’s conditional, and your moms and the cops will think you’re hostages. With me so far?