If I Should Die Before I Wake

If I Should Die Before I Wake by Han Nolan

Book: If I Should Die Before I Wake by Han Nolan Read Free Book Online
Authors: Han Nolan
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When you fight for something important, you expect risks. It's no game we're playing here."
    "Hey, don't con me. It's all a game. You don't love Hilary. You recruited her the same way they recruited you. The Warriors feed on troubled kids."
    "I never told her I loved her. She knows the cause comes first."
    But you do love me. Brad, I know you do.
    "The cause? You call pestering those Jewish people and destroying their property a cause? You call kidnapping a child a cause? Where is he, Brad? What's happened to the boy?"
    Oh, Brad, tell her. Tell someone. Or just go get him yourself. That's it. Get your janitor friend to unlock the school again, and then you can get him out. No one will have to know it was you. Wear your costume. Do it. Then we can forget about this mess and start all over. Get Simon out, Brad. Okay? I never expected it to go this far. I never wanted it to go this far.
    Okay, yes, I did. I did. I hated Simon. I hated his stupid beanie, and his schoolbooks carried like silly treasures in his monogrammed backpack, and those squeaky leather shoes. I hated that he enjoyed gardening. I hated hearing his voice through his living room window on those stinkin' summer nights, chanting in some spitty foreign language. And I hated his freakin' happy family where nothing ever went wrong. He wanted me to understand him? Why didn't he ever try to understand me?
    "I said, I don't know nothing about that kid."
    "And I don't believe you, Brad. What about that note?"
    "Lay off me, okay? I didn't come to talk to no dumb-ass mutha, I came to see Hil."
    "You watch your language!"
    "White Power! Heil, Hitler! Death to Jews, it's the final solution!"
    "Keep your voice down. What's wrong with you? You're as jumpy as a ... Are you on something? Are you high? Do you even know where you are?"
    "Yeah, I know where I am. I'm in a friggin' Jew hospital."
    "That's enough."
    "What? You afraid I might wake Hilary up or something?"
    "There is someone else in this room, Brad."
    "What? Where? Behind this curtain?"
    "Hey! Get away from there and show some respect."
    "For that old lady? She's gone already. She ain't hearing nothing."
    Oh, Brad, stop. If I could just talk to you. I need to tell you....
    "Well, good for you, Brad. Now you've got the nurse coming to the window."
    "Look, okay, Ruby. I'm sorry. I ain't out to cause no trouble, really. I just came here to have a word with Hil. In private. Then I'll leave, okay?"
    "You can talk, but I'm not leaving. You're too jumpy. I don't like it."
    "Hey, listen, Ruby..."
    Â 
"Speak, thus says the Lord:
The dead bodies of men shall fall
like dung upon the open field,
like sheaves after the reaper,
and none shall gather them."
    Â 
    "What's that crap?"
    "It's the truth, Brad."
    Yes, Mother, it's the truth. My truth.
    "It's crap!"
    Grandma, I'm tired. My mind, I feel it slipping, I can't hold on. I can't focus. I want to stay with Brad. Why doesn't my mother just go away? Why does she have to stay? If she wants me to die, why does she stay?
    Grandma, you're changing. You're like a rainbow. Your hair is blue, and green, and yellow. Your face is red.
    I see such pretty colors spinning past me.
    I'm spinning, Grandma, spinning away. And the colors, so pretty, so gay...

CHAPTER TWELVE
Chana
    GAY COLORS CONTINUED to pass before my eyes as my consciousness spun off into this other world. As things began to settle and my eyes began once again to focus, I saw that the colors were from the quilt Mama was tearing. It had belonged to the Krengiels, the only one they had brought with them from Russia. In another time, what Mama was doing would have been a desecration, but these were desperate times, and tearing the quilt so only part of it could be used as a shroud for Mrs. Krengiels body while the rest was used to keep us warm, that was now just good common sense.
    It had been raining, the ground turning to mud, the day Mrs. Krengiel did not go to the straw factory to make the plaits for the inside of the Nazis'

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