asking.
“What’s wrong with you?” he wanted to know.
The kid who’d had his shirt torn off was shrieking in the square from the beating he’d received. Where he was squatting the traffic had to go around him. He was trying to reach the part of his back that hurt.
“Enough already with the noise,” Lutek said. The kid’s shrieking turned to weeping and he crouched around in the dust without standing up.
“I’ll see what’s going on,” Boris finally said. He stood and crossed the street to the pharmacy.
“Where’s he going?” Adina asked.
“From the second floor you can see over the wall,” Lutek told her.
After a few minutes Boris came back and flopped down so his feet went up into the air. “He’s over there,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s waiting for.”
The squatting kid finally stood up and headed over to us like a little cripple.
“Just what we need,” Boris said.
“Give me my candy,” the kid said when he stopped in front of us. No one at the guard posts was paying attention.
“Give him his candy,” Boris told Zofia. She handed him a piece from a little sack in the waistband of her skirt.
“I should get two,” the kid said. He had a lazy eye that made him even uglier.
“Why should you get two?” Boris asked him.
“Because I took such a beating,” the kid said.
“Well, I should have a roast goose,” Lutek told him. “But we don’t always get what we want.”
“I should get two,” the kid repeated.
“Get away from us or we’ll show you what a beating looks like,” Boris told him.
“I’ll call the police,” the kid said.
Boris stood up and lifted him off his feet by the neck with one hand.
“What are you doing there? Put him down,” someone shouted, scaring us.
It was Korczak, the Old Doctor. “You should be ashamed ,” he said. He pulled Boris’s arm from the kid’s neck. Zofia and Adina got to their feet.
“Get out of here, Grandfather,” Boris told him. “I can smell the vodka.”
The old man straightened up. I couldn’t smell it. Then he said, “Pay attention. What I have to say may come in handy.”
“This is the Old Doctor,” Adina told Boris. “He runs the orphanage.”
The old man waited, as though that was going to change something.
“So did you come to lecture us or do you have a suggestion to make?” Boris said.
“I have a suggestion to make,” Korczak said. “I suggest you leave my boys alone. I suggest you leave all these boys alone.”
“Who made you King of the World?” Lutek said.
“I’m sorry for our friends,” Zofia told him.
“Mietek, go home,” Korczak said to the kid. The kid moved behind him. They made quite the pair: the old man with dirty spectacles and the shirtless kid with the lazy eye.
“You have pants like a hobo’s,” Boris said.
“A hobo wouldn’t take them,” Korczak told him.
“You know where I found him?” Boris said, nodding at the kid. “Looking through the garbage. Maybe you should feed your kids.”
“Anyone who’s gotten in my way can tell you I can still kick pretty hard,” Korczak told him.
“This old wreck’s threatening me?” Boris asked Zofia.
“Boris, let’s go,” Adina told him.
“Did we make you do anything, kid?” Boris asked.
“You don’t care what happens,” Korczak told him. “Or who gets hurt. Just so in the meantime you can find a piece of bread someplace. Right?”
“You’re the big shot with your own place, judging us?” Boris said.
“Our own place? What does a Jew have?” Korczak told him. “We’ve never owned a thing.”
“So maybe the houses are theirs,” Boris told him. “But the streets are ours.”
“The streets are yours?” Korczak said. “Look around.”
“We do all right,” Boris said.
“Leave my boys alone,” Korczak repeated.
“Go back to your orphanage,” Boris told him. “Dish out some soup.”
The old man turned to the rest of us. “For each one who acts like that, there’s another who behaves decently,” he said. Then he left,
“What’s wrong with you?” he wanted to know.
The kid who’d had his shirt torn off was shrieking in the square from the beating he’d received. Where he was squatting the traffic had to go around him. He was trying to reach the part of his back that hurt.
“Enough already with the noise,” Lutek said. The kid’s shrieking turned to weeping and he crouched around in the dust without standing up.
“I’ll see what’s going on,” Boris finally said. He stood and crossed the street to the pharmacy.
“Where’s he going?” Adina asked.
“From the second floor you can see over the wall,” Lutek told her.
After a few minutes Boris came back and flopped down so his feet went up into the air. “He’s over there,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s waiting for.”
The squatting kid finally stood up and headed over to us like a little cripple.
“Just what we need,” Boris said.
“Give me my candy,” the kid said when he stopped in front of us. No one at the guard posts was paying attention.
“Give him his candy,” Boris told Zofia. She handed him a piece from a little sack in the waistband of her skirt.
“I should get two,” the kid said. He had a lazy eye that made him even uglier.
“Why should you get two?” Boris asked him.
“Because I took such a beating,” the kid said.
“Well, I should have a roast goose,” Lutek told him. “But we don’t always get what we want.”
“I should get two,” the kid repeated.
“Get away from us or we’ll show you what a beating looks like,” Boris told him.
“I’ll call the police,” the kid said.
Boris stood up and lifted him off his feet by the neck with one hand.
“What are you doing there? Put him down,” someone shouted, scaring us.
It was Korczak, the Old Doctor. “You should be ashamed ,” he said. He pulled Boris’s arm from the kid’s neck. Zofia and Adina got to their feet.
“Get out of here, Grandfather,” Boris told him. “I can smell the vodka.”
The old man straightened up. I couldn’t smell it. Then he said, “Pay attention. What I have to say may come in handy.”
“This is the Old Doctor,” Adina told Boris. “He runs the orphanage.”
The old man waited, as though that was going to change something.
“So did you come to lecture us or do you have a suggestion to make?” Boris said.
“I have a suggestion to make,” Korczak said. “I suggest you leave my boys alone. I suggest you leave all these boys alone.”
“Who made you King of the World?” Lutek said.
“I’m sorry for our friends,” Zofia told him.
“Mietek, go home,” Korczak said to the kid. The kid moved behind him. They made quite the pair: the old man with dirty spectacles and the shirtless kid with the lazy eye.
“You have pants like a hobo’s,” Boris said.
“A hobo wouldn’t take them,” Korczak told him.
“You know where I found him?” Boris said, nodding at the kid. “Looking through the garbage. Maybe you should feed your kids.”
“Anyone who’s gotten in my way can tell you I can still kick pretty hard,” Korczak told him.
“This old wreck’s threatening me?” Boris asked Zofia.
“Boris, let’s go,” Adina told him.
“Did we make you do anything, kid?” Boris asked.
“You don’t care what happens,” Korczak told him. “Or who gets hurt. Just so in the meantime you can find a piece of bread someplace. Right?”
“You’re the big shot with your own place, judging us?” Boris said.
“Our own place? What does a Jew have?” Korczak told him. “We’ve never owned a thing.”
“So maybe the houses are theirs,” Boris told him. “But the streets are ours.”
“The streets are yours?” Korczak said. “Look around.”
“We do all right,” Boris said.
“Leave my boys alone,” Korczak repeated.
“Go back to your orphanage,” Boris told him. “Dish out some soup.”
The old man turned to the rest of us. “For each one who acts like that, there’s another who behaves decently,” he said. Then he left,
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