6

THEY WERE COLLECTED IN A CIRCLE ON THE PLAYGROUND when he came out at noon recess. Even from a distance he could see they were from his own grade, with a few of the younger ones from the lower grades there too, gathered inside the chain-link fence beyond the end of the school building. Now and then one of them hollered something brief and excited, and he went down to see what it was about.

Two little boys from the first grade were facing each other across five feet of red gravel, and the older boys were trying to make them fight, saying things, goading them. One boy they taunted more than the other, the one whose lank brown hair appeared as if it had been cut by someone barbering with his eyes shut. He knew who it was—his classmate Joy Rae’s little brother—and inside the ring he looked ragged and scared. His outsized shirt was buttoned to his chin and had holes at the elbows, and his jeans had a purple tint as though someone had washed them together with something red. He seemed ready to cry.

One of the boys next to DJ was yelling at him: Go ahead. Why won’t you fight?

He’s a chickenshit, a boy across the ring hollered. That’s why. He flapped his arms and crowed and hopped up and down. The kids next to him hooted.

The other boy in the ring was somewhat bigger, a blond boy in jeans and red shirt.

Go on. Hit him, Lonnie.

They don’t want to fight, DJ said. Let them go.

Stay out of this. The boy next to him stepped out and shoved the blond boy forward, and he swung and hit Joy Rae’s brother on the side of the face and then stepped back to see what he’d done and her brother put his hand up to his cheek.

Don’t, Joy Rae’s brother said. He spoke very softly.

Hit him again. You better hit him.

He doesn’t want to fight, DJ said. He’s had enough.

No he hasn’t. Shut up.

The boy shoved the blond boy again, and he hit her brother and grabbed him around the neck and they went down in the gravel. The blond boy rolled over on top of him, their faces close to each other, and hit him in the face and throat, and her brother tried to cover his face with his hands. His eyes looked frightened and his nose was bleeding. He began to wail.

Then the circle was broken by a girl rushing into the ring, Joy Rae, in a blue dress too short for her. You’re hurting him, she cried. Stop it. She ran over and pulled the blond boy off her brother, but the first big boy, the loudmouthed one, shoved her and she tripped over the little boys and fell on her hands and knees in the gravel. One knee was cut but she jumped up and pulled at the blond boy crying: Let go, you little son of a bitch.

The big loudmouthed boy grabbed her and this time hurled her backward into the ring of onlookers, and two boys grabbed her by the arms.

She twisted and kicked at them. Let go of me, she screamed.

DJ stepped into the ring and pulled the blond boy off and stood her brother on his feet. He was crying hard now and his face was smeared with blood. The ringleader grabbed DJ by the arm. What do you think you’re doing, asshole?

He’s had enough.

I’m not done with him yet.

Then a boy cried: Oh shit. Here comes Mrs. Harris.

The sixth-grade teacher came striding into the circle. What’s this? she said. What’s going on here?

The boys and girls began to walk off fast with their heads down.

Every one of you come back here, she called. Come back here.

But they all went on, some of them running now. The two boys holding Joy Rae let her go and sprinted off as Joy Rae hurried over to her brother.

What’s this about? the teacher said. She put her arm around the little boy and lifted his chin to see in his face. Are you all right? Talk to me. She wiped at the blood with a handkerchief. His eyes were red and there were bruises starting on his cheeks and forehead and the front of his shirt was ripped open. What’s this about? She turned to DJ. Do you know?

No, he said.

Who started it?

I don’t know.

You don’t know, or you’re not telling me?

He shrugged.

Well, you’re not helping anybody by not telling.

I know who it was, Joy Rae said, and named the big boy who’d been out in the ring.

He’s in very serious trouble then, the teacher said.

She led Joy Rae and her brother into the school building, but DJ lingered on the playground until the bell rang.

 

AFTER SCHOOL HE WAS WALKING HOME THROUGH THE park next to the railroad tracks when two boys appeared from behind the rusted WWII tank that served as a monument. They rushed up at him across the newly mown grass. How come you told old lady Harris on me? the big loudmouthed boy said.

I didn’t.

You told her I made those little kids fight.

I never told her anything.

Then how come I caught hell from her and Mr. Bradbury? Now I have to bring my mom to school tomorrow. Because of you.

DJ looked at him, then at the other boy. They were both watching him.

I’m going to kick your ass, the first boy said.

Yeah, how’d you like to get your ass kicked, the other one said. He gave a signal with his hand and a third boy came out from behind the tank, and they took turns shoving him until one of them grabbed him around the neck while the other two hit him in the head and sides, then they threw him down and held his face in the grass.

The first boy kicked him in the ribs. You lying sack of green shit. You better learn to keep your mouth shut.

Living with a old man.

Yeah. They probably fuck each other. The boy kicked him again. You been warned, he said, then they walked off toward downtown.

He lay in the grass looking at the spaced and orderly trees in the park and the clear sky through the trees. Blackbirds and starlings were pecking in the grass around him.

After a while he got up and went home. In the little dark house his grandfather was sitting in his rocking chair in the living room.

Is that you? he called.

Yes.

I thought I heard somebody out there.

It’s only me.

Come in here.

In a minute, he said.

What are you doing?

I’m not doing anything.