The Gray House

by Mariam Petrosyan

  Siamese gaped at Wolf, dumbfounded, their seagull eyes unblinking.

  Wolf tapped the floor with the umbrella again.

  “Are you of low birth? For what reason do you conceal your names from us, as if ashamed? Could it be that you have covered them with dishonor? Could it be that you are in fact Cain’s issue, cursed to forever roam the world?”

  “Nnnooo . . . ,” one of the Siamese moaned. “We’re . . . We’re not that at all!”

  “Knights is what we are,” the other offered brightly. “Caught in a storm.”

  Wolf lifted an eyebrow and fixed the brothers with a suspicious stare.

  “Warm yourselves, then,” he said finally, “and relate your story to us.”

  He sat down on the floor. Magician, Humpback, and Grasshopper quietly took their places around him. Siamese exchanged glances and sat down too, cross-legged and identically hunched.

  “Are you in trouble, knights,” Humpback whispered. “Wolf can keep up this charade until lights out.”

  Magician, without even waiting for further instructions, placed the guitar down at his feet, propped it up with a chair, and strummed it a couple of times.

  “Ah,” Wolf said. “The splendid minstrel and his harp. You are here as well.”

  Magician nodded smartly, picking at the strings.

  “And there is the captive monster, once the devourer of innocent maidens, but now repentant.”

  Stinker contrived to look deeply repentant. He did it mainly by hanging halfway off the bed and sounding a mournful wail.

  “It rues its misdeeds greatly,” Wolf translated. “Daily it recounts the unfortunate girls in its prayers, imploring mercy from their enraged shadows.”

  “Oh . . . Oh . . . ,” Stinker moaned. “Theresa, Anna, Maria, Sophia . . .”

  “Let us not dwell on that,” Wolf interrupted. “We have visitors.”

  Now everyone was quiet. Magician continued strumming the guitar. The hamster stomped over Humpback’s sweater, sneezing from time to time. Siamese felt the collective attention on their persons and shifted uneasily.

  “You said you didn’t need tough guys,” the left Siamese said to Wolf. “And we’re not. We don’t like them either. And they don’t like us. We’re by ourselves. If no one picks on us, then we don’t pick on anyone. And they call us thieves any chance they get. And they do pick on us. And now those newbies.”

  He sighed.

  “But you’re not going to take us in, I know.”

  And he threw a sideways glance at Grasshopper.

  Because we used to beat you up, Grasshopper completed the sentence in his head.

  “Could you take Elephant, at least? He’s scared of that newbie, Spot. He spooks all the time and starts bawling. Take him in, huh? He’s very quiet when he’s not scared. He just plays all day by himself.”

  “Would he go without you?” Grasshopper asked. “He likes you.”

  “We’ll talk to him,” Siamese promised. “He’s a very reasonable kid.”

  This was Max. Grasshopper managed to distinguish the letter M on his badge.

  “Just show him this wall.” Rex giggled. “You won’t be able to pry him off it.”

  “Until after dinner,” said Blind, who had been sitting silently in the corner all this time. “Then he’s going to remember about you and start bawling. And then it’s either take him back or take you in. Or jump around him all night with handkerchiefs at the ready.”

  Siamese blushed and pressed even closer together.

  “Bring Elephant,” Wolf said, “and you both come too. Just quit confusing us. And using Elephant to guilt us.”

  Rex stood up and helped up his brother.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smirk, “O Plaster Knight.”

  It was a crooked smirk. The only kind Siamese were capable of. Rex wanted to say something else, but his brother tugged at his sleeve.

  They’re completely different, Grasshopper thought, surprised. You only have to look closer.

  The twins departed. Humpback looked over the beds and whistled.

  “Now we are ten Sissies. Full complement. But they’ll never be able to climb the top bunks. Them, or Elephant either.”

  “I’ll move upstairs,” Wolf said reluctantly. “And Blind will also have to. There’s no other way.”

  Stinker swayed on the pillows.

  “They are burglars,” he said. “And thieves. They’ve got a crapload of lockpicks and other things that are useful to have around. They can rob us clean and sneak back to Stuffage. We’d be left with nothing.”

  “Let them try,” Wolf said. “We’ll set your goblin loose on them. Hey! Speaking of which, cover it up quick before Elephant comes. Or the entire House is going to come running here when he starts wailing.”

  Humpback and Magician pushed the nightstand against the goblin and then placed a salad bowl on top. The radio went on top of the bowl.

  “There’s only this ear peeking out,” Magician said. “But you can’t see whose ear it is, so he won’t be afraid of it.”

  “This is the way art is suppressed nowadays.” Stinker sighed. “I only poured my entire heart into that goblin.”

  “That much is obvious,” Humpback said. “Your black soul is right there for everyone to see.”

  “It sure is noisy in there,” Blind said. “In the Stuffage, I mean. I’d even say raucous.”

  “Could it be they’re not letting them go?” Grasshopper said hopefully.

  “Something like that,” Blind said, creeping closer to the wall and pressing his ear against it.

  Magician turned down the radio. Now all of them could hear the noise behind the wall.

  “Tell us, Chief Keen Ear, what’s the news?” Wolf said.

  “Keen Ear yourself,” Blind shot back. “Sounds like they’re getting beat up. But I can’t tell for sure. Can’t hear much besides Elephant raging.”

  “So that wasn’t a ruse,” Wolf said contentedly. “Them coming here, I mean.”

  Wolf looked at Grasshopper. Grasshopper frowned miserably.

  “They’re kind of ours now,” he said. “They’re Poxy Sissies too.”

  Wolf nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “We have to go fight for them,” Grasshopper sighed. “If they’re ours.”

  Running to the rescue of Siamese was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “You mental?” Stinker said indignantly. “There’re only five of you. They’re going to dispose of you and then mount an assault on the room. And take all the useful things. It might even happen that I could suffer as well.”

  Grasshopper slipped his foot into his shoe and extended the leg toward Wolf.

  “Could you tie this up, please?”

  Humpback was already holding the second shoe.

  “Come on, hurry up, let’s go,” he said. “They’re two against them all.”

  Magician armed himself with a spare guitar string. Blind peeled his ear off the wall.

  “They’re already out into the hallway,” he said in a featureless voice. “No need to rush.”

  Humpback slapped the other shoe on Grasshopper’s foot and ran for the door. Grasshopper, tripping over the laces, dashed after him. They raced each other out of the room.

  Siamese were indeed there. Them and the entire Stuffage. One Siamese was visible. He held off the attackers with a duffel bag. Next to him on the floor, where the other one appeared to have been tripped, something spiderlike was whirling about, waving its multiple arms and legs. Humpback let out a battle cry that sounded like a car alarm going off, and jumped right into the thick of battle. Grasshopper swung his leg at someone’s backside sticking out of the spider and continued to punch whoever came up to the surface. Blind sneaked by, but Grasshopper was too busy to trace his further movements. The seething mass was already whelping enemies—Muffin rose up, groaning, and Crybaby readied his fists. Looking at them, Grasshopper suddenly realized, to his horror, that he’d forgotten to take off his prosthetics.
This was the most important thing, more important than the shoes, more important than anything in the world!

  “Don’t you dare!” he screamed at the top of his lungs into the closest face and swung at it with his foot. The face disappeared, but another one took its place, which Grasshopper also hit, yelling, “Don’t you dare!”

  I broke his nose! I wonder whose nose?

  The battle raged around him. Grasshopper tried to get to Wolf, who was fighting nearby, but someone’s hand grabbed his ankle. He stomped on it with the free foot; the untied shoe flew off and immediately was lost in the melee.

  All Grasshopper could think about was that they mustn’t break the prosthetics. Someone shoved him in the back, he fell over on top of Crybaby, and then someone fell on top of him. Someone heavy. Crybaby squealed. Grasshopper writhed, knocking his knees against him. Someone was sitting astride Grasshopper’s back and pummeling him. It hurt, but judging by his whimpering, Crybaby was hurting even more.

  “Look out!” somebody screamed.

  He saw spinning wheels. Stinker’s wheelchair came to a stop right by his nose.

  “Look out,” Stinker squeaked again and brandished an umbrella.

  Muffin loosened his grip and Grasshopper, now freed, was able to roll aside.

  “Take that, fiend!” Stinker exclaimed and speared Muffin with the umbrella.

  Grasshopper kicked Muffin in the belly. Muffin, defeated, crawled off, but there appeared Whiner, swinging a hockey stick at Grasshopper. Grasshopper managed to kick him, but the unshod foot could not do much damage. The stick struck Grasshopper in the ear. The ear flashed. The second blow landed on the prosthetic.

  “You broke it,” Grasshopper whimpered and rushed Whiner, forgetting all about the stick. For some reason Whiner threw the weapon away and bolted. Grasshopper ran after him. Somebody tripped Whiner, he tumbled, rolled over onto his back, and squealed, terrified. Grasshopper was bearing on him inexorably, like a comet, leaving trampled hands and feet in his wake, the enemies scattering around.

  Then someone grabbed him and lifted him off his feet. Grasshopper started kicking, attempting to free himself.

  “OK, cool it down,” a grown-up voice said.

  Suspended above the field of battle, Grasshopper saw Magician using his crutch to beat back Rabbit and Crook, Stinker’s overturned wheelchair, Stinker himself wildly flailing the umbrella in all directions, Sportsman rolling on the floor tangled with someone—and seniors. Lots of them. Swearing and laughing, they were pulling the boys apart.

  The back of Grasshopper’s head pressed against something sharp. He froze, struck by a sudden realization, and turned around. A small skull on a chain scraped against his cheek. Grasshopper couldn’t make himself look farther up.

  I kicked Skull!

  His head spun. He felt faint and sick to his stomach.

  Skull turned him around and lowered him to the floor.

  “Well? Better now?”

  Grasshopper swayed on the spot. A tattooed arm shot out and steadied him.

  “I didn’t know,” Grasshopper whispered. “I didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t know what?”

  Skull’s gray eyes were sprinkled with tiny dots.

  He’s got speckled eyes. Dappled. How curious.

  The seniors shoved the boys into the dorms. The door of the Stuffage bristled with grimacing faces. The faces spat and shouted abuse.

  “Shoo!” the seniors yelled back.

  Sportsman and Blind were the last to be pried from each other. Magician and Humpback, holding the tattered remains of their shirts, disappeared into the Poxy dorm. Siamese crawled on the floor, picking up the spilled contents of their bags. Elephant followed them one step behind, drowning in tears.

  “Outrageous!” Splint, the counselor, was screaming. “All of you! To the principal! Right now!”

  Elk was stuffing Stinker into his wheelchair. Stinker was putting up a fight. Grasshopper had some time by now to collect his thoughts. He turned back around, planning to apologize to Skull, but found that he wasn’t there anymore. He was already leaving with the other seniors. Grasshopper caught a glance from one of them, and then heard: “That armless squirt, he was fighting like a tiger!”

  The seniors laughed. Skull stopped and looked back at Grasshopper. Very somberly. He was the only one not laughing.

  “To your dorm, on the double,” Splint hissed in Grasshopper’s ear, and he ran, limping on the shoeless foot. He was burning with shame. The seniors didn’t know that he only fought like a tiger because of prosthetics. They would have laughed even more if they knew. Except maybe for Skull.

  “Principal’s office in half an hour!” Splint shouted behind him.

  The sinks in the bathroom were mobbed by the casualties. There was water all over the floor. The sock on Grasshopper’s unshod foot got soaked through.

  “The plaster armor is like the most useful thing to have around. The enemy forces disable themselves, you don’t even have to do anything. Just get yourself open and wait for someone to take a swing at you.”

  Wolf emerged from under the faucet and looked at Grasshopper.

  “Oh. There you are.”

  “There he is!” Stinker screamed. “The Vanquisher of Stuff! The Avenging Foot! The Heel of Death! Yay!”

  “The crutch is useful too,” Magician bragged. “You should have seen the way I caught Crook with it.”

  Humpback splashed loudly, bathing his busted lip. One of the Siamese, a little worse for the wear, probed a loose tooth.

  “They accused us of stealing,” he said, extracting the finger from his mouth. “And we like never even saw those pins of theirs.”

  “I’m not sadistic,” Stinker said in a singsong voice. “No, I am not. But I can be quite severe when roused. Part of my character. My own part.”

  He wheeled over to Grasshopper.

  “There’s a streak of severity in you as well when roused, old man,” he said. “But still, you can’t hold a candle to me in that regard. All shrink in fear before me.”

  Stinker was completely unscathed, so he didn’t really have any business in the bathroom. He just wheeled around on the wet tiles, splashed water from the low sink on everyone, and sang an elaborate ode dedicated to his own heroic exploits. The boys, covered in scrapes and bruises, proudly pressed wet towels to their wounds and studied themselves in the mirror. Grasshopper took a look as well. His ear was livid, and blood caked under his nose. He liked what he saw.

  “Hark, knights,” Wolf said. “Tonight at the round table we shall recount the glorious battle. Praise our valor and mourn our losses. Sing war songs and bring together our chalices in honor of the fallen.”

  “Stinker seems to have started already,” Humpback said.

  “I didn’t start anything! And quit admiring yourselves, it’s my turn now.”

  Stinker wheeled at them from behind and pushed them away from the mirror.

  In the dorm, the other Siamese was comforting Elephant, Elk was stuffing cotton wool in Blind’s nostrils, and Beauty was pacing the room, gnawing at his fingernails.

  “Get yourselves cleaned up,” Elk said. “Then we’ll go visit the principal.”

  “Us?” Magician said indignantly. “What about them?”

  “Them too, don’t worry. Where’s your shoe?” said Elk, glancing at Grasshopper’s feet.

  “I’ve got it,” said Stinker and fished it out of the wheelchair, followed separately by the dripping shoelace. “I kept it as a remembrance. A souvenir.”

  “Couldn’t whatever problems you had be solved peacefully?”

  The knights kept silent.

  “Right,” Elk said, looking at his watch. “Be at the principal’s office in ten minutes. We’ll talk.”

  He walked out.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Humpback said and touched Grasshopper’s shoulder.

  Elephant, sitting on the blanket, was surrounded by pins forming a colorful mosaic.

  “Here! Look at this one. Pr
etty, huh?” Siamese implored, bringing the pins one by one closer to Elephant’s wet face. “Just look at it . . .”

  Siamese’s contribution to the wall consisted of a stork and a crocodile. The stork was standing on one leg and therefore occupied very little space, while the crocodile was apparently flying, splayed above the wolf and the owl. Elephant worked for a long time, and when he finished painting there was a flower in the corner, looking very much like an inkblot.

  Stuffagers threw the pot with the broken plant out into the hallway. The only thing belonging to Siamese that they didn’t manage to bring over. Siamese found it on their way back from the canteen, picked it up and tried to revive it, but it withered anyway, so they had to bury it in the yard in an old shoebox.

  Everyone was quietly preparing for the next fight. Stinker mended the umbrella. Siamese grew out their nails. Magician whittled himself a cane. Every night they had a war council. The time spent in the canteen was taken up by threatening stares and scary faces. Then they grew tired of all that.

  Wolf joined the music club and started disappearing with the guitar after lunch, and then tormenting Sissies with monotonous chords for hours on end. Magician dug up the book titled The Illusion of Reality in the library, fashioned a top hat out of cardboard, and tried to make the hamster disappear under it. Hamster refused. It just startled and crapped more than usual. Beauty pressed juices. Stinker composed long, heartfelt letters to charitable organizations and private citizens. The letters featured the unfortunate paralyzed boy, the poor orphan preparing for dangerous surgery, and the sightless baby who loves music more than anything in the world. Every letter was accompanied by heartrending drawings. Stinker’s hope was to acquire a plethora of things that might be useful to have around.

  Siamese Max wrote letters too. To himself. He did them in pencil on sheets of toilet paper and sorted them in envelopes with strange legends: When You Want to Cry, When You Want a Bicycle, When You Think You’re Ugly, When You Envy the Leg. The leg in question was most likely his brother’s second one. The one Rex had, and Max could have had. Stinker showed his letters to everybody. Max never showed his to anyone. He only ever read them to himself, and rarely, at that, only when his mood corresponded to the legend on one of the envelopes.