by Douglas Rees
Ms. Vukovitch spoke to me after class.
"So what are you doing free period on Mondays and Wednesdays?"
"Nothing special," I said.
"I want you to spend them with me. Just us. I'm gonna tutor you till you think like Leonardo, or Einstein, or maybe even like me. Okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"Looking forward to it, gadje boy," she said, and she gave me a smile that felt like a kiss.
So I had what I wanted. They were going to grade me like a jenti. And I was going to have to work harder than ever. I couldn't believe how good it felt.
I suppose I should have been expecting to get called into Horvath's office.
"Master Cody," he said, looking at me over the points of his long fingers. "Master Cody." He paused like he couldn't think of what to say next. His tongue flicked in and out. "It seems you are the hero of the hour."
"I don't know what you mean, sir," I said.
"Such modesty. And from a gadje." I guessed he'd forgotten the day when he'd told me that term was never used here.
He got up and walked over to the fire. When he
turned back to me, his face was in shadow. I think he wanted that.
"You have done a noble thing, Master Cody," he said, sounding like he hated the words. "But our ways are not your ways. And there are complications you know nothing of. No one can blame you for not knowing what you have not been told. So I will tell you now, and I expect you to act on the knowledge in the future. Community relations in New Sodom are delicate. It is the responsibility of all of us, jenti and gadje alike, to keep them in balance so that everyone may benefit. We need each other. But we cannot become each other, nor should we wish to do so." He paused. "But I see I am not persuading you."
"That's probably because I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"Ah," he said. "Thank you. I will be more direct. I want no more gadje heroics. I want no more . . . fraternization between you and your jenti classmates. No more breaking down of wholesome barriers. It endangers the delicate relations I spoke of. Do you understand that?"
"So you want me to be like Blatt and Barzini and Falbo?"
"Young men whose families have been in our community for generations. They understand the way things work, and how beneficial it is that they do so. I would advise you to be guided by them," Horvath said.
"Here's what I don't get," I said. "What I think you're talking about didn't happen at school. So where do you get off telling me what to do with my own time?"
"I occupy a high enough place in this community to see it whole," Horvath said. "I am aware, as you are not,
of how intricate are the webs that bind things together. I don't wish to discount what you did for Master War-rener. In itself, it was a noble act. But it is sending out vibrations along the complex filaments that bind us together as a people and connect us as a community to our neighbors. Moreover, your attendance at Miss An-tonescu's party was extremely ill advised."
"Just a minute," I said, jumping out of my chair like Dad raising an objection in court. "Who do you think you are, telling me where I can and can't go? I was invited, for pete's sake."
"You misunderstand," Horvath said smoothly. "Sit down. It is certainly not my place to tell the Antonescus whom they may and may not have in their home—"
"Damn straight," I said.
"Mind your tongue. We are not in your gadje locker room now, boy," Horvath snapped. "And I already told you to sit down."
I sat. Then I crossed my legs and made a little temple with my ringers the way Horvath liked to do.
"It is not my place to tell the Antonescus whom they may entertain," he went on. "But frankly, your presence in their home on Saturday gave great offense to others, others nearly as important as they."
" 'Others' meaning Gregor Dimitru, right?"
Horvath went on like he hadn't heard me, so I knew I was right.
"The Antonescus' invitation, while a generous act, was a lapse in judgment," he said, "and had you been raised here, you would have known better than to accept. Let me give you some words from one of our fine
old New England poets. You have heard of Robert Frost, I hope?"
I nodded.
"In 'Mending Wall' he tells us, 'Good fences make good neighbors!" Horvath said.
I knew that poem. It was in Shadwell's textbook.
"Isn't that the one that also says, 'Something there is that doesn't love a wall'?" I asked.
Horvath glared at me.
"Mr. Horvath," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling with anger and fear, "when I came here you told me that some things at this school might seem strange to me at first. You said I could come to you for explanations. Well, as you keep saying, I'm not from around here. It seems like I have some ways that are strange to you, and I'd better explain them. First of all, I make friends with people I like. Second, I don't like to be told what to do by you when I'm not on this campus. Third, you ain't seen nothing yet. Does that help?"
"Leave my office," Horvath growled.
I did.
WORDS AND SILENCES
After that, I didn't need anybody to tell me that Horvath had it in for me. But Justin did anyway.
We were at the natatorium. It was late afternoon. Ever since Ileana's Fifteenth, Justin had been meeting me there on the days when we didn't go to his place to study. He'd come in about the time the rest of the gadjes split and watch me splash around for a while, like he was trying to figure out how I did it. It was funny; he hated water as much as any jenti, but it seemed to fascinate him, too. I hadn't noticed that with any of the others.
Today he was actually sitting hunched up on the diving board.
When I saw him, I put my head down and swam over to him underwater, coming up slowly so I didn't splash him.
"Hey, man," I said. "You'd better get off that thing. Diving boards can be hazardous to jenti health."
"Just wanted to see what it felt like being surrounded by water," he said.
"How does it feel?" I asked him.
"Kind of dry doing it this way," he said. He smiled; then he stopped. "Did you hear that Horvath's trying to find a gadje kid to replace you?"
"No," I said. "Who told you?"
"There's a kid I know who volunteers in his office after school," Justin said. "She heard him making phone calls all over town trying to find some gadje willing to come here so that he can expel you."
"Expel me? For what?" I said.
"He's the principal. He can make something up," Justin said. "Anyway, this girl wanted me to let you know."
"Thanks for telling me," I snapped, kicking over to the side of the pool so hard I nearly splashed him. "Damn Horvath. He finally gets a gadje who wants to go here and he tries to get rid of him."
"He's mad at the teachers, too," Justin added. "He wants them to stop giving you real grades, but they won't back down. What I mean is, don't worry too much. He can't get rid of you unless he has a kid to replace you, and that won't be easy. The old families are afraid to send their kids to Vlad. And they look down on anybody who does. Most of the gadje we get are kids who've flunked out of everywhere else."
I put my head back on the edge of the pool and rolled it from side to side. I didn't need this, too. Even with all
the help I was getting from Justin, Ileana, and Ms. Vukovitch, I was swimming in oatmeal. It wasn't that I wasn't learning; I was learning plenty. But the more I learned, the less I knew. I was getting D+ in math, D in social studies, C in gym, like everybody else. D in science, A in water polo. No one got a grade in English until the end of the year, but I knew what mine was going to be. All I had to turn in was my lousy half-finished epic.
But my biggest worry was Ileana. Everybody had been different to me since I'd let Justin tank up on the day of her Fifteenth, but nobody had been more different than she was. On the surface, things were the same. Homework, Illyria. Dinner together at school. Sometimes we followed the ancient gadje ritual of hanging o
ut. But the silence that had come down between us was still there. It wasn't an empty silence. There was something she was waiting for me to say. I knew that, and I thought I knew what it was. I just didn't know if I was ready to say it.
I felt like a sailor, coming to the coast of Illyria for the first time and at night, wondering what would happen if I set foot on shore.
On Friday, when we went down into Justin's basement, Ileana sat with her arms wrapped around her legs while he put in a new harbor for Three Hills and I built a library next to the city hall in Palmyra.
"Ms. Shadwell can run it," I said. "We'll put in a wing for the collected works of Anaxander and Vasco, right next to the one for Dracula. Of course, it'll be a pretty big wing. Your poets will have to write some more books to fill it."
Ileana said, "They cannot sing their old songs anymore. And they are waiting to hear their new ones."
"Oh," I said.
"Ah," she sighed.
Over the weekend, Mom and Dad had an unusual idea: They decided to go out to see a movie.
"If you think you can tear yourself away from your academic pursuits for about two hours, we'd like you to accompany us," Dad said.
I was trying not to think about last Friday, and studying wasn't working, so I said, "Sure."
We went downtown.
"This isn't the way to the multiplex," I said. "It's back toward the interstate."
"In the old days before civilization had attained the heights represented by twenty-screen nickelodeons with Styrofoam walls, theaters were located in urban areas and had only one screen," Dad said. "It is to such a place that we go now."
"The Loring Theatre is what's called an art house," Mom explained. "It shows films you can't see anywhere else/'
"We've been meaning to go for months," Dad said. "But I've been too damned busy. I'm still too busy, in fact. But your mother and I are not going to miss this film."
"What is it?"
"Beauty and the Beast," Dad said.
"What's the big deal?" I said. "We saw that when I was a little kid."
"The real Beauty and the Beast," Dad said.
"By Jean Cocteau," Mom said. "One of the classics of French cinema."
When we got to the Loring Theatre, I could tell it was a jenti place. It had that old-fashioned respectable look they like, and all the cars around it were the jenti kind. Ancient, dark, and special.
When Dad went up to the ticket window, the girl behind it looked at him like someone had just deposited dead fish in front of her. Then she saw me.
"One moment, sir," she said, and disappeared into the back.
A minute later, a jenti in a tuxedo came out. "Master Elliot and family, I am Mr. Chernak," he said. "I have the honor to be the manager of this establishment. Please to come in."
"We have to get our tickets," Dad said.
"This is your first visit, I believe?" asked Mr. Chernak. "Please accept the hospitality of our theater." And he threw one arm out toward the doors.
We followed him in. He led us to seats on the aisle and said, "What refreshments may I offer you? We have all the usual beverages and sweets, as well as a full coffee bar."
"Nothing, thanks," Dad said, looking confused.
Mr. Chernak looked like he'd been stabbed. "Nothing?" he gasped. "Sir, our double cafe au lait is the perfect complement to this film. I urge you to try it."
"Yes, please," Mom said. She was anxious not to hurt his feelings. "May we have three?"
Mr. Chernak disappeared and came back with three tall, white-topped coffee drinks, just as the curtain—this place had a curtain—went up.
"Welcome," he said. "Please to enjoy your stay."
"Why do I feel like I've just been knighted by Vlad Dracul?" Dad said. "And how did he know our name?"
"Shhh," said Mom.
So we saw the real Beauty and the Beast. It's a very good movie, and I recommend it. But not when you're trying not to think about love.
Monday started out to be very ordinary. Until I saw Ileana, at least. By now, she was all I could think about. In fact, I was thinking about her so much that I could hardly talk to her. And she was listening hard for what she wanted me to say.
Dinner, where she and Justin and I shared the table with Brian Blatt, was kind of a relief. We never said anything until he finished feeding and left, but that never took him long. When he got up to go, it was the first time I was ever sorry to see him leave. But I still didn't say anything, and neither did Ileana. Justin did. "It's warmer today." Then a shadow fell across the table and we all looked up. It was Gregor. He gave Ileana a little bow and spoke to her in jenti.
She answered him with one word. Then she said, "You may speak English here, Gregor. Everyone else at this table does."
"What I have to say is not for everyone's ears," he said.
"Then it is not for mine, either," Ileana told him. "May I sit down, princess?" he asked.
"You may, if you conduct yourself properly," Ileana told him.
Gregor yanked back the empty chair and plunked himself into it. He sighed like a steam engine and put his fists on the table. Then he turned to Justin.
"I wish to apologize," he said. "For the business of the creek."
Justin looked at his food.
"I know I'm supposed to say 'That's okay,'" he said finally. "But I can't. It's not. Trying to throw one of us in the water. It's close to murder."
"There was not so much water there," Gregor said. "That's true," Justin allowed. "But I hadn't done anything to you."
"If you had, I would not be offering the apology," Gregor said. "But I had some reason to think you had done something to me. So my act is not without explanation, even if I was wrong."
"Okay, what's the explanation?" Justin said. "As I said before I sat down, what I have to say is not for everyone to hear."
Gregor looked funny. He looked like he was blushing. Suddenly, I knew what he was trying to say. He'd thought Justin and Ileana might have a thing for each other, and that had made him do it.
"Anything you have say to me, you can say in front of my friends," Justin said. "Otherwise, I don't want to hear it."
"You do not accept my apology, then?" Gregor asked. "Can't," Justin said. "Sorry." Gregor stood up. He was furious.
"Then I withdraw it," he said. And he added something in vampire. Whatever it was, it made Ileana turn white.
Gregor left.
"What'd he say?" I asked.
"Just something stupid," Justin said.
"It was not something stupid, it was something vile," Ileana told me. "A kind of threat. And an insult. He told Justin, 'May your last fang rot in your head.' Among us that is as bad as an insult gets."
"You don't need to tell him the rest," Justin said.
"I think I must," Ileana said. "He implied that you and Justin are lovers."
I felt myself getting hot with anger. Justin was bent over like Gregor had punched him in the stomach.
Well, Justin had stuck up for me with Brian Blatt, and I was going to do the same for him. I stood up.
"Hey, Gregor," I shouted. "I hear your mama's so fat she sells shade."
Gregor turned around. It got real quiet in the dining hall.
"Yeah," I went on. "I hear your mother is so fat, when she went shopping, she put on a pair of BVDs, and by the time she got home, they spelled BOULEVARD."
He took a step toward me. Then he stopped. Behind him, some kids laughed.
"Hey, Gregor, you know what?" I added. "Your mama is so fat, when she ran away from home, they had to use all four sides of the milk carton."
Practically the whole room laughed at that one.
Gregor spun around. Then most of the rest of the room laughed.
When he turned back to me, I could tell I had gotten him. There were tears starting in his eyes. He raised his fists. His pale face turned bright red. He pulled back his lips and I could see that his fangs were out. But he didn't come toward me. He just stood there, trembling with rage w
hile the laughter died.
"That's just what I heard." I shrugged.
Gregor stamped out of the dining hall. One last ripple of laughter followed him out.
Justin was rocking from side to side, laughing into his hands.
But Ileana was furious. She sat staring at her plate, her hand clamped on her fork. Her face was as red as Gregor's.
"What did you do that for?" she snapped.
"Because of what he said about Justin and me, of course."
"What you did was much worse."
"It was not."
"Yes, it was. You insulted his mother, not him," she said. 'And you only dared to do it because you know you are marked and he cannot touch you."
"That's a lie," I said, and it was. I'd been so mad I'd forgotten all about that marked gadje stuff for a minute. "I can't believe you're sticking up for him."
"I am not sticking up, as you put it, for anyone," Ileana said. "But you were completely wrong to do what you did."
"Check this out," I said. "No one's wrong to stick up for a friend."
"That may be what you call it, but that is not what it was," she said. "No jenti would have said what you said. You should be ashamed. As ashamed as I am to be sitting with you."
"Ashamed?" I shouted. "Well, guess what, princess. I'm not a jenti. Remember?"
That made the whole room turn and look at us.
"No," Ileana said quietly. "You are not a jenti. And you are not what I thought you were. You are a liar and a disgusting gadje pig, and I do not want to sit with you anymore."
She got up from the table and moved all the way across the room and sat down with some girls.
I stared after her, feeling the jenti eyes on us both. Something in the room was changing. Going back to the way it had been.
"What the hell is wrong with her?" I muttered finally.
Justin shook his head. "Ileana's got a lot of dignity," he said. "You hurt it, doing that while she was here."
"Well, what was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let him insult you?"
"I appreciate what you did," Justin said. "But I'm not Ileana."
"What did she mean, I'm not who she thought I was?"