The Street by Mordecai Richler

Author:Mordecai Richler [Richler, Mordecai]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, General, Literary, Short Stories (Single Author)
ISBN: 9780140044188
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1973-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

That changed everything. Noah, his excitement mounting, said they would hang around until evening and then, when the beach was deserted, steal the sign.

“Yeah, and walk back in the dark, eh?” Pinky’s Squealer said. “It’s Friday, you know. Aint your paw coming?”

Gas and Hershey looked puzzled. Both of them had been forbidden to play with Noah by their mothers. Pinky’s Squealer made sense, but if Noah intended to stay they would look cowardly if they left him behind. Noah certainly wanted to stay. Having his father up for the weekend usually meant two days of quarrelling.

“Aw, in a hundred years we’ll all be dead,” Gas said.

Pinky’s Squealer waited, kicking the stump of a tree petulantly. “If you come with me, Hershey, you can have my quarter.”

“Watch out for snakes,” Hershey said.

Pinky’s Squealer ran off.

The afternoon dragged on slowly, but at last the sun lowered and a strong breeze was starting up. Only a few stragglers remained on the beach.

“Is a Gentile a Catholic and a Protestant too?” Hershey asked.

“Yeah,” Noah said.

“But they’re different,” Hershey said, “aren’t they?”

“Different,” Gas said. “You know the difference between Hitler and Mussolini?”

Noah decided that as it was getting late they would have to risk it, stragglers and all. The few couples who remained were intent on each other and wouldn’t notice them if they were cunning. Noah said that he and Gas should stroll out on to the beach, approaching the sign from different directions, nonchalantly. It didn’t look as if it was stuck very solidly into the sand. Hershey was to holler if he saw anybody coming for them. He had stones and the BB gun.

So the two boys sauntered innocently out on to the beach. Noah whistled. Gas pretended to be searching for something. The wind kicked up gusts of sand and the sun, sinking still lower, was a blaze in the opposite hills. Suddenly, frantically, the two boys were yanking at the sign. Gas shook with laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks. Noah cursed. They heard, piercing the stillness, a high-pitched shout. “Look out!”

Gas let go, and ran off. Flying for the woods.

“Hurry!”

Noah persisted. A man, waving a canoe paddle, was running toward him. Noah gave one last, frenzied tug, and the sign broke free. The man was about twenty feet away now, wielding his paddle viciously. His eyes were wild. “You little son of a bitch!”

Noah swerved, racing for the bushes. A shower of pebbles bounced off his back. The paddle swooshed through the air behind him. But he was fast. Once in the bushes he scampered off, zigzagging into the mountain. He ran and ran and ran. Finally, clutching the sign in his hands, he tumbled down on the pine needles, his heart hammering.

Noah couldn’t find Gas anywhere, but Hershey loomed up from behind a rock. Darkness fell quickly and they soon realized they were lost. Lost, and without a flashlight. Possibly, they were moving in circles. For all they knew they might come out of the woods again at Lac Gandon.

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