in my House does.”
He grabs my arm gently and stops me from walking any farther. “Don’t say that. Because I know it’s not true.”
“You weren’t there this week, Ben,” I say quietly.
“No, but they told me stuff and all I remember hearing was concern in their voices. And I remember something else. Hanging out with you and Raffy in year seven, skating around that Evangelical church car park. All those Christians were praising the Lord at the top of their voices and you stopped for a moment and asked us, ‘Who do you believe in?’ I wanted to be all mystical and Mr. Miyagi-like from The Karate Kid . Do you remember what Raffy said?”
But we reach the scout hall and I see Raffaela waiting there for us.
“People like Raffy don’t lose faith,” he says quietly as we walk in.
Santangelo and the Mullet Brothers, who are clutching guitars, are sitting on the stage and then Jonah Griggs enters with his second-in-command, Anson Choi, and we all sit down at a trestle table.
“You guys don’t seem happy,” Santangelo says.
“It was a long walk. We need some of those trails,” I say.
“I’ve got a proposition, so can we begin?” Santangelo asks.
“It would be smart of you,” Griggs tells him. “Because out of everyone here you’ve got the least to offer.”
There’s a silence between them and I know that at any minute there will be a full-on brawl.
“Wouldn’t you say that letting any of you walk down our streets on weekends is a great deal to offer?” Santangelo threatens icily.
“You can’t control that. Too many of us belong here,” Raffaela says.
“You haven’t belonged here for years.” He sneers.
“What are you implying?” Raffaela asks, and I see hurt there as well as anger.
“Accusing, not implying. Would you like me to point out the difference?” he asks.
“He beats me in one spelling bee and now he’s Mr. Intellectual,” she says, looking at me as if I’m really going to get involved in this ridiculous exchange. “In second grade,” she continues. “Get over it, Chaz!”
“Are we finished?” Griggs asks politely. “Becausewe’d like to get into a discussion about having access to at least one of the water ways.”
I look at him, shaking my head. “No chance. It’d be like cutting off our hands.”
“Then learn to live without your hands.”
“No, because then we won’t be able to do this,” Ben says, giving him the finger. Jonah Griggs calls him a little bastard and almost leaps across the table and everyone’s either pulling both of them back or swearing or threatening.
“Let’s talk about the Club House!” Santangelo says forcefully.
“Then talk!”
“I don’t want to talk about the Club House,” Griggs says. “We want water access. That’s what we’re here for.”
Santangelo is shaking his head. “You know what you are? You are a—”
“What? Say it!”
They are both on their feet now, fists clenched and it’s on for young and old. Yet again.
“Santangelo!” I yell above it all. “The proposition. Now. Or we walk and we are not coming back. Ever .”
It takes him a moment to calm down and I point to the chair.
“No interruptions,” he says, sitting down. He stares at Raffaela and I turn to her and put my finger to my lips. She takes a deep breath and nods, as if it’s the most difficult thing she’ll ever have to do. Anson Choi gets Jonah Griggs back into his chair and it’s semi-calm again.
“Okay. Seniors only and that means year eleven. We open three nights a week, hours eleven thirty to two A.M. Cover charge five dollars. No more than a hundred people per night. For each of those nights, one of us is in charge so that means organising entertainment, food, alcohol, et cetera.”
“Alcohol is an issue,” I say. “First, how do we get hold of it, and second, what happens when some moron gets plastered, breaks his neck trying to get back into dorms and Houses or…tents, or drives back to town under the
He grabs my arm gently and stops me from walking any farther. “Don’t say that. Because I know it’s not true.”
“You weren’t there this week, Ben,” I say quietly.
“No, but they told me stuff and all I remember hearing was concern in their voices. And I remember something else. Hanging out with you and Raffy in year seven, skating around that Evangelical church car park. All those Christians were praising the Lord at the top of their voices and you stopped for a moment and asked us, ‘Who do you believe in?’ I wanted to be all mystical and Mr. Miyagi-like from The Karate Kid . Do you remember what Raffy said?”
But we reach the scout hall and I see Raffaela waiting there for us.
“People like Raffy don’t lose faith,” he says quietly as we walk in.
Santangelo and the Mullet Brothers, who are clutching guitars, are sitting on the stage and then Jonah Griggs enters with his second-in-command, Anson Choi, and we all sit down at a trestle table.
“You guys don’t seem happy,” Santangelo says.
“It was a long walk. We need some of those trails,” I say.
“I’ve got a proposition, so can we begin?” Santangelo asks.
“It would be smart of you,” Griggs tells him. “Because out of everyone here you’ve got the least to offer.”
There’s a silence between them and I know that at any minute there will be a full-on brawl.
“Wouldn’t you say that letting any of you walk down our streets on weekends is a great deal to offer?” Santangelo threatens icily.
“You can’t control that. Too many of us belong here,” Raffaela says.
“You haven’t belonged here for years.” He sneers.
“What are you implying?” Raffaela asks, and I see hurt there as well as anger.
“Accusing, not implying. Would you like me to point out the difference?” he asks.
“He beats me in one spelling bee and now he’s Mr. Intellectual,” she says, looking at me as if I’m really going to get involved in this ridiculous exchange. “In second grade,” she continues. “Get over it, Chaz!”
“Are we finished?” Griggs asks politely. “Becausewe’d like to get into a discussion about having access to at least one of the water ways.”
I look at him, shaking my head. “No chance. It’d be like cutting off our hands.”
“Then learn to live without your hands.”
“No, because then we won’t be able to do this,” Ben says, giving him the finger. Jonah Griggs calls him a little bastard and almost leaps across the table and everyone’s either pulling both of them back or swearing or threatening.
“Let’s talk about the Club House!” Santangelo says forcefully.
“Then talk!”
“I don’t want to talk about the Club House,” Griggs says. “We want water access. That’s what we’re here for.”
Santangelo is shaking his head. “You know what you are? You are a—”
“What? Say it!”
They are both on their feet now, fists clenched and it’s on for young and old. Yet again.
“Santangelo!” I yell above it all. “The proposition. Now. Or we walk and we are not coming back. Ever .”
It takes him a moment to calm down and I point to the chair.
“No interruptions,” he says, sitting down. He stares at Raffaela and I turn to her and put my finger to my lips. She takes a deep breath and nods, as if it’s the most difficult thing she’ll ever have to do. Anson Choi gets Jonah Griggs back into his chair and it’s semi-calm again.
“Okay. Seniors only and that means year eleven. We open three nights a week, hours eleven thirty to two A.M. Cover charge five dollars. No more than a hundred people per night. For each of those nights, one of us is in charge so that means organising entertainment, food, alcohol, et cetera.”
“Alcohol is an issue,” I say. “First, how do we get hold of it, and second, what happens when some moron gets plastered, breaks his neck trying to get back into dorms and Houses or…tents, or drives back to town under the
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