Slap Your Sides by M. E. Kerr Page B

the war, even to someone serving as a noncombatant.
    Tommy registered for the draft, but when he tookhis physical, he was classified 4F because of a perforated eardrum.
    He couldn’t believe it. He said lucky thing the war was probably going to be over before I had to make my decision, because one of us should serve.
    â€œI won’t ,” I said. That was the first time I’d really made it clear, and I was a little surprised when the words came out of my mouth. But I was proud of myself, too.
    â€œYou won’t have to worry about it anyway, Jube.”
    â€œBud says it could go on for years.”
    â€œHow would Bud know?” Tommy said. “And Aunt Lizzie’s right about the Jews, too! Hitler’s killing all the Jews! If Hitler has his way, no one’s going to be safe.”
    â€œAnd when Hitler’s defeated, there’ll be other dictators to come along,” I said. “There’ll be other races to destroy. The only way to stop war is for ordinary citizens to start saying No! I’m not going!”
    â€œI know all the pacifist arguments, Jube. I went to SCFS, too, remember. But this war is different!”
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    Even though the Warner sisters were over sixty, they left Shoemaker’s for higher-paying jobs at Wride Foods. So after school Tommy worked for Dad, and Mom went in too, sometimes.
    Wrides was Sweet Creek’s only “essential industry.” A lot of females got jobs there. Tommy was dating one named Rose Garten. She had graduated from Sweet Creek High the year before and was one year older than Tommy. Her family were Catholics who lived inBlooming Glen. Tommy complained that she smelled of onions, but her graph had gone from 50 to 80 in a few weeks.
    The last Saturday in August Tommy let Dad run the store by himself, so he could transport Baby Boy and Heavenly. They’d been sold to Orland Gish, a rich Mennonite with a farm in Lancaster.
    A week later Luke Casper found a new horse who came with the name “Ike” after General Eisenhower. Mr. Hart wasn’t a fan of the military, so he renamed him Tyke, because he was smaller than most horses. The horse was restless, too; he didn’t like to mind.
    He acted so wild, I had to keep him out in the paddock.
    That was when Daria came back. After her music lesson, just as I’d finished mucking out the stalls, she came by the Harts’ and we went for a ride. I was on Tyke, who was trying to go where he wanted to go, not where we wanted to.
    All the things I’d stored up to say to Daria, about my feelings for her, went unsaid. She was suddenly beautiful, tan, and happy-looking. Whatever made me think she’d give a damn what I thought of her? She kept talking about what a glorious summer she’d had: that helping people was what she planned to do with her life.
    â€œMaybe you should be a nurse,” I said.
    She pushed back her long hair and eyed me. “I’d rather be a doctor.”
    â€œWhat kind?”
    â€œMaybe a psychiatrist,” she said.
    I told her about Abel Hart being sent to a psychiatric prison up north, after he was beaten up again. Mr. Hart went to see him and he said he hardly recognized Abel, and Abel didn’t know who he was. He had bruises on his face and arms from the beatings he’d received. His red hair had turned white, and his teeth chattered when he spoke, as though he was freezing. He’d told Mr. Hart he didn’t have to sleep anymore. He said he’d found the secret of eternal life.
    â€œThe Army ought to discharge him,” Daria said.
    â€œHe’s not in the Army, remember?”
    â€œI keep forgetting.” She was riding Quinn, who was delighted she’d come back and was stepping high because of it.
    â€œDaddy told me Tommy actually registered for the draft,” she said.
    When Tommy told Mom and Dad the Army wouldn’t take him, Dad had looked at Mom and said, “I bet thee are glad, Mother,