Chapter 40 Section 4

Many nights he played rummy with a guy named Fontana in Fontana's father's pipe shop.A point was worth five cents, and if the card game was won, it was a scone with Juju and Patsy at Half Moon Pizzeria.Those nights always ended in failure, with a feeling of disappointment for some reason.Once, he called Loretta from the candy store and learned that Loretta was in the same room as her mother, brother, grandfather, and others.So he said, holding his penis in his hand, and listening carefully to his reaction.Sometimes he would go downstairs late at night and stand in front of Donato's grocery store, smoking alone, now and then spitting tobacco dust into the wind.

Now, he was almost seventeen, and had a little money.He gave his mother most of the money he earned, but at least he wasn't penniless.He goes to the movies and sits with Ali and Ray, two guys who like to contradict the lines of the characters in the film.If it's not something you've seen before, what can you say after a while? Clara was in the room, in that spare room, painting bit by bit, and then stood before the easel, thinking carefully. True, Albert believed that painting would help her relax and free her from other things. Later, it was time to pick up the kids.In that instant, she forgot where she had put the baby.Either upstairs, with the regular girl, or across the street, with the tailor's woman who made the garments for the rabbis.

People who draw should have a sense of lines.Clara felt like she was doodling. She went upstairs, picked up the child, and when she came down, she said that it was time for the little girl to change her diaper.However, Teresa didn't need to change her diaper at this time, but she was not in good spirits and behaved a little weirdly.She let her mother understand that she didn't want to sleep now, and answered the questions firmly, expressing her needs and rejection attitude. Clara sat by the bed, chatting with her daughter.After a while, she went into the empty room and stood before her easel, examining her creation.What did you draw?She felt like she didn't want to know.

She turned her eyes to her daughter's room and saw that the child had fallen asleep.Then, she turned her gaze to Albert's mother, and saw Mrs. Kechel sitting beside her, getting dressed.Mrs. Kessel seemed to be getting dressed sooner each day.Technically speaking, the days were getting longer, and perhaps Mrs. Kechel had too many things to attend to each day, and she was no longer able to sit with Albert's mother for long periods of time. Clara felt that her daughter was very similar to her grandma, with a sad look in her eyes.However, it's not true that the kid is so young, is it?There was a gloom in that look, a brooding of unfortunate things.However, Clara felt that she did not do it deliberately, and did not deliberately look for such signs and omens, right?

Clara went into Albert's mother's room and sat down.The woman was awake, turning her head to look at Clara in a motion that seemed to take all her strength.Exhausted is what she is, though, and of course, that's not true either.Her movements are still powerful, trembling slightly, but not lacking in strength.Such actions show that this woman is strong-willed and can wave her hand to reject other people's opinions. She flicked a hand in front of her chin, her mouth was pursed, her eyes were closed, her head was on one side.Such actions do not represent actual things, but involve something on another level.

She told Albert: "It's time, I'm going to die." She told the friend sitting next to her: God doesn't know everything, only what he has to know. She told Albert: All I see in your father, all I hear from your father is lost opportunities, why do you bring him up? She told Albert: "Listen carefully, this is what I mean. She told Clara: Go do your own thing.I'm not worth your time, not worth your attention. The two women knew well that the last gesture and look was not sincere. Clara did not tell Albert that she sometimes felt an indescribable sense of relief in sitting next to his mother.Of the parents of both of them, she is the only one still alive, but she is dying.Clara played the old woman a record by pop singer Perry Cuomo.She called her daughter so Grandma could touch her little hands and face.The old lady has bad eyesight, and double images will appear when she sees things.She stretched out a hand and stroked the little face of her granddaughter, as if looking back, which made people marvel.

The old man's skin color is getting darker, his hair is getting whiter, and his hands are covered with spots.Still, there was something powerful about her, something that terrified Albert.That may be a judgment, a fading belief. Her movements seem to signal a state of despair, originating from a depth of the soul beyond words. Clara sat there, chatting with the old man.She opened the window slightly to let out the musty smell in the room, and let out the exhaust gas slowly escaping from the old man's body.She heard the fire truck sirens flickering in and out in the distance, and watched the light fading outside the window.

Sometimes Albert's sister Laura came to visit.She couldn't accept the fact that her mother was about to die. She was very scared, emotionally difficult to let go, and felt betrayed in her heart.Clara could imagine that when that day came, Laura might throw herself desperately to the grave. Here she sits, with a dying woman she doesn't know, listening to Perry Como, with this chair, and this light, in this house, on this street superior.Clara found the moment to be uncanny and wondered what was going on. She was in the kitchen when Albert came home. "how is she?" "Fell asleep."

"Has she eaten?" "I made a little soup." "Has she eaten?" "Ate a little, spilled a little. Daughter has a cold, got it from the nanny." "I'll make her feel better," he said. Clara heard Albert tell Theresa stories, those inexplicable stories he had heard as a child, the characters' names rhymed and sounded very funny.He spoke in exaggerated tones for effect, and his voice was round and melodic.She didn't want to hear those stories anymore, however, and closed the kitchen door. When Albert told the story, he was vivid, eloquent, ups and downs, and very personal.She put dinner on the table and called his name.

The two chatted while eating, and the topic was scattered.She went into the empty room, smoked her last cigarette of the day, and stared blankly at the wall.She leaned the cigarette butt against the bathroom mirror, turned it around, extinguished it, threw it in the toilet, flushed it, and went to bed. The first person to rush onto the field wore a black hat.Nick punched the other man hard, and the two wobbled, sliding across the icy ground. He'd never seen the guy before, so he punched hard.The opponent was either knocked to the ground by him, or slipped to the ground.Nick took a look at the situation on the playing field.Zhu Zhu was chasing the first guy when he slipped and fell suddenly, with one leg raised high.Zhu Zhu sat on the ground for a while, watching the guy run towards the stairs leading to the next floor.The pitch was white and silent.The swings hung empty, and the tables and chairs were covered with an inch of snow.

The other guy knelt on the ground, feeling a little embarrassed by his appearance.Nick crouched, poised, and threw a punch.He knew that this punch was unnecessary, but those few punches just hit the opponent's face lightly, and he really wanted to give the opponent a few times.This is an opportunity, and he certainly doesn't want to let it go.He punched the opponent right below the eye, a short-distance punch.Nick felt better as the guy threw back under his blow and put his face in his hands. Zhu Zhu came out from the field and reached out to grab a frozen piece of shit from the snow.He didn't wear gloves. After grabbing it, he stuffed it in the guy's face, hair, and ears. He said, "Hmph, bastard, this is for you." Afterwards, he washed his hands with snow and went to Mike's pool room to play. Matt put on his blue tie.Boys at Catholic mission schools wear white shirts and blue ties.For a long time, his mother helped him tie his tie.He didn't know how to put on a jacket, how to slip an arm into a sleeve.Sometimes he had to lay his jacket flat on the ground and sit in front with one arm thrust into one sleeve, almost lying down and letting his body sink into it. Imagine Nicky's comment when he saw this scene. He's gotten past that stage, though, and has largely gotten over his bad temper and the way he and his mother sulk.Sometimes, he locked himself in the bathroom, trying to suffocate himself with the shower curtain. Now, he doesn't play chess anymore, and he has got rid of his bad temper.Mr. Bronzini called it the Sabbath.It was one of the words he used, one of the words he spelled out, explained, acted on.Matt described the situation in his own words - sick. He cannot accept failure.Failure was horrific, leaving him exhausted, pissed off, and wandering the apartment with his arms flailing like windmills.His brother hit him on the head, which made him even angrier.He was short and thin, unable to contain his anger.The frustration had grown beyond the point of crying, and he was shaking and panting.He couldn't understand that the opponent was so short in stature, so young, and almost temporarily entered the battle, yet possessed such a powerful force, causing him to suffer repeated defeats. After he put on his tie, he went out to school.First of all, he put a new identity card around his neck, with his name and school name written on the small round card, so that he could be easily identified after the atomic bomb attack.Then he put on his blue tie and walked the five blocks to school. Matt sat in the row near the cloakroom and was one of three students who opened and closed the cloakroom at designated times.The three of them worked together to complete the task. Katrine Conway's job was to take the blackboard eraser to the back door of the campus every Friday and wipe it clean.Chalk dust irritates the eyes. Richard Starschak took on the job of opening and closing the windows.He put one end of the hook on the horizontal bar under the window, and used the hook to pull the ring above the window, so that the window could be opened and closed freely.Richard is strong and fit for the job. The day was gray and monotonous.There were a total of forty sixth-grade students sitting behind their desks, with their bodies straight, their feet together, and their eyes looking at Sister Edgar. The nun walked back and forth between the desk and the blackboard. She was wearing monotonous clothes, rustling, and waving her scrubbed hands.She recited questions from the Baltimore Catechism, and the students answered in unison, crisp. Matt believed in what was written in the Baltimore Catechism.It records all relevant questions, provides all relevant answers, involves love, hate, curse, and teaches people how to observe other people's feet.It records how Jesus was scourged, how he carried thorns, and how he was resurrected after death.It tells stories about angels, shepherd boys, thieves and Jews, and the most exalted Hosanna. He did not know what the highest Hosanna meant, but he dared not ask.Students are afraid to ask questions.A week earlier, Sister Edgar had grabbed Michael Kalenka's head and slammed it on the blackboard after he was rude in answering a simple question.Since then, everyone has been terrified.At that time, they were studying Lesson 6 of the Baltimore Catechism in class.That lesson was on Genesis and the Fall of Man.The nun pointed to a picture in the book: a man and a woman standing under an apple tree, almost naked, with a large snake wrapped around one arm.Edgar asked Michael Karenka to name the men and women in the book.The question was very simple, but Michael Karenka stood up, stared at the picture blankly, and pondered over it.The nun said, "They are our parents." Michael Kalenka thought for a moment, grinned, and replied, "Tarzan and Jane." The nun made a lunge and rushed towards Michael Karenka.The nun's garb enveloped Michael Karenka, and he practically disappeared instantly.Later, he was pushed by her, his head forward, and hit the blackboard.The force of the impact was very strong, first there was a bang, then a groan, the whole wall board shook, and the whole class of male and female students collapsed on their seats, stunned and shocked.Michael Karenka stood there in a daze, like a rag doll, cowering, with a guilty face, a wry smile, completely at a loss, his arms drooping, and his body collapsed. The nun recites questions from the Baltimore Catechism book, and the students answer in unison.Matt likes to do this, hear the assigned questions and then recite the correct answers, it's the most comfortable thing in class. The nun memorized the contents of the catechism book fluently, and Matt knew the things he studied every day fluently.Now, with more and more time for extracurricular homework, Matt secretly developed respect for Sister Edgar.Sister Edgar's face was prominent, her face was pale, her hands were dry and cold, as if she was ready to reach out to grab someone at any time, which made people feel creepy.So, throughout the school, everyone privately called her Skeleton. Matt likes this approach - first repeating the question before answering it. The nun asked, "We say that Jesus will return to judge the dead and the living. What does this mean?" The whole class answered in unison: "We say that Jesus will come again to judge the dead and the living. What this means is that on the Last Judgment Day, our Lord will judge everyone who has ever lived on this earth." .” Then, the nun asked the students to take out their identification tags and put them on the outside of their shirts and jackets, and let her check them one by one.She wants to make sure that every student is wearing an identification badge.In the aftermath of a nuclear war, these identification tags can help rescuers identify lost, missing, injured, maimed, amputated, comatose or dead children. The nun walked up and down the aisle, leaning over each brand, smelling sometimes the washing, sometimes the ironing.Her nails were varnished, and a rosary dangled from her belt like a key chain with Zote's suit, blazing.She bent down and smelled toothpaste and detergent, skin washed with scrubbing powder. "It's going to be bad luck for people who don't wear a brand or someone else's brand," she said. They knew that in other classes a boy exchanged identification tags with a girl as a sign of an atomic-bomb caress. The nun finished the inspection and said nothing, which surprised the students.They thought there would be training, the kind of lying down and avoiding training.They were trained in this way before being issued identification badges.Now that they have this little sign with their name on it, this kind of training is a regular thing, not something remote.Of course, the same is true after the outbreak of nuclear war. The nun resumed the catechism, asking questions for the students to answer.That's when eighth-grader Annette Esposito walked into the classroom with a note from the principal.The nun read the note, looked at Annette Esposito, and asked, "What is this?" At first, no one knew what she meant by that.Then the class reacted—her eyes fell on Annette Esposito's breasts, on the breasts protruding high beneath the blue blouse. "What is this? Go get rid of it. Next time you come, I don't want to see them." The boys and girls leaned back in their seats and laughed, a little excited by Annette Esposito's erratic display of curves.Their eyes wandered, shining, some bit their knuckles, some swallowed their saliva, making sticky noises in their throats.Annette Esposito held her head high and walked quickly towards the door of the classroom. Every student stared in her direction.Of course, they all stared at those high breasts without exception.They are not common objects of thought in the lives of sixth graders. Instead of calling them for training, the nun showed off her calligraphy skills, waving her wrists at the blackboard to show off her talent for writing cursive letters.She explained how to write diagonal lines and how to draw circles, emphasizing the need to place letters between horizontal lines.She asked them to take out their pens and imitate the way her hands moved through the air.They did as they were told, waving their wrists together, drawing circles and writing a wild capital T like rowboats in a storm. Matt sat there, almost fascinated, writing in the air with his brother's old Parker vacuum-filled fountain pen.That one has a green stripe and an arrowhead-shaped clip.When the lunch bell rang, the nun stretched out her index finger to him, hooked it lightly, and his mood suddenly plummeted. "Matthew Xie." He was stunned to hear his name come out of her mouth. "Come to me before you go." With the help of two companions, Matt opened the cloakroom and took out his coat.He waited for all the classmates to leave the classroom, and then walked to the nun's desk. She had puffy blue eyes, a thin lip, and the skin around the bridge of her nose was rough and rough. "Yesterday, in the school yard, you sat around with a few people and read a magazine." Matt is terrified to be alone with Sister Edgar. "First, I want to know the name of that magazine." She was leaning on a corner of the lectern, and gently twirling the rosary. The big cross above it was shaking back and forth, and the body of Jesus seemed to fall from the cross. "Secondly, I want to know the main content of the above." He was thinking about his own answer. 1. Movie Magazine. 2. Full page photo of Rita Hayworth and Lana Turner."My Heart Is Still" by Mario Lanza.There were also articles about celebrities he had never heard of, and commercials for French pajamas and dancing pantyhose. If she asked him these things, how should he answer? The nun gazed at him closely, waiting for his answer.Matt put his hands behind his back, trying to hide the bitten nails and the flakes of skin around the edges. Did he have to explain to her that dancing pantyhose was made by embroidering two foxtrot figures on the legs of panties? If that magazine was banned by the Catholic Ethical League, she asked who brought it, how should I answer it? (Actually, she never uses a preposition at the end of a sentence.) "Matthew, are you ready?" If he had a choice, either to lie to Sister Edgar or to betray his classmates, he would have to be forced to tell the truth and confess immediately without complaint or regret.But what about those ads for breast enhancement creams and breast implants on the back covers of magazines? It wasn't a problem at all to bring Matthew to his knees, it was a matter of him answering right away, telling the truth.He told her the name of the magazine, who the cover girl was, and what was in it, emphasizing the romance and heartbreak of the stars.The nun seemed very interested and very satisfied. Surprised, inspired, and less tentative, he began to describe the Hollywood mansions of certain stars.The nun asked some leading questions, and tried to hide her interest as she looked out of the window.He now gained confidence, became candid, and spoke quickly, almost without restraint.If he couldn't recall the details of a story or a photograph, he would make them up, feeling a rush of pleasure.After hearing this, the nun accepted all the orders one by one. She knew the celebrities, what smells they liked, when they got the worst mosquito bites, and how they went to prom without a partner when they were in high school.Also, she knew about their normal lives amid plastic surgery and a tragic marriage.She looked out the window, asked him cryptic testing questions, and made occasional one-liners. He could detach himself, be on the sidelines, hear his own voice, see the eloquent teenager who seemed at ease with the hooded nun.However, he wasn't completely off guard.This was her, after all, in her nun's dress and hood.She was wrapped in cloth, and she made a wall of washed cloth.She is a woman who is hidden in a special cloth, and the cloth on her body is intimidating. In the school yard, Richard Starschak made a surprising move after lunch.Matt saw it, and didn't understand what he saw at the time.Richard Starshak was wearing very tattered and dirty panties, he unzipped them, reached in, took them off, then yanked them out and threw them at Mary Fay profit.She jumped back, covering her mouth with her hands, as if seeing something unspeakable. Later, they all walked into the classroom. Each morning, Nick hitches a ride with another packer at the plant.He waited in a dark, cold corner, then drove to the end of the Bronx.There, where one river meets another, the ice cream factory sits in the grassy field like a pygmy prison on the banks of the Zambezi.Taking a ride is better than taking the train during rush hour, less crowded and less tedious. After get off work, he got off near the zoo and walked west, past his brother's school.He saw a guy pushing another car with six guys in it.In front of his family's apartment building, he turned toward Donato's grocery store and walked the thirty yards into the narrow street.Then he turned into a passage and descended a flight of concrete stairs into a network of alleys between five or six buildings. Lower yard, that's the name of the place. Here the buildings are built one on top of the other, the clotheslines are strewn about, the electric lights flicker, the gardens are neglected, overgrown with weeds, and the Ailanthus tree is bare.Fire staircases were anchored outside the wooden windows, the walls were filthy and some floors were covered with cement. Nick walked through the narrow passage, stooping from time to time to avoid the hanging rope.Some of the doors had iron locks on them, and some were ajar.The basement passage connects to a sundry storage room, with trash cans placed in alcoves and an old coal bucket used as a stove.Some storerooms are stacked with store stock.The air was filled with the smell of garbage and damp stone, mingled with a musty smell that was sickening and chilling.Everything here was kept in the air, Nick felt, all kinds of smells thick and damp, mingled with musty and coffee grounds and the smell of the mop in the big sink. Half his childhood was spent in the streets, and half in these yards, with the roofs and fire stairs. Nick passed a stove and finally pushed open a door at the end of the hall.George the usher was waiting for him in a small storage room.George said the house was his other home.George saw Nick and nodded, telling him to go in.George makes a deal with the apartment manager to use the room.There is a small bed, a table, a mousetrap, and two chairs.Two light bulbs dangle from the ceiling, and buckets of paint and plumbing tools line the floor.Nick had made it clear that the deal involved a woman.She comes here, he pays to have sex with her, and the apartment manager lets George use the room in exchange for sex with her for free.The woman came here regularly to satisfy the caretaker's desires, at George's expense. "I knew you'd be here." "Here I am," said George. "I have a sixth sense." "You can see through walls." George pushed a deck of cards into the middle of the table, and Nick sat down. "It's just a sixth sense. I can't see through walls yet." "Can this feeling of yours tell you what happened in the pool room in the middle of the night?" George has two jobs and has been living single, living with his eighty-year-old grandmother.When not at work, he sometimes plays pool all day.If he wasn't working or playing pool, Nick could find him here.The two played a game of poker called ace, a game favored by older people, just to pass the time.Besides, there was something about George the usher that interested Nick deeply. "When, last night?" "Last night. There was a robbery there." "The billiard room was robbed?" "Three men with pistols," George said, humming to the movie music. "Three men with pistols. Are you there?" "I went to work at the restaurant at 6 p.m., got back there at 11, played a hand, and went home. The robbery didn't happen until much later. They robbed the poker room." "They robbed the poker room." "Why do you keep repeating what I say?" "I was surprised to hear those words." "Still wearing a sock mask." "Still wearing a sock mask. What socks?" "Women's socks, nylon stockings." "Blindfolded?" Nick asked. "No, on your feet. Why, I thought you were a smart kid." "I was surprised to hear those words. Blindfolded." "Covered their faces. That way you can't see their faces." "Sock masks. Three. What's that guy's name? That guy standing in the doorway with a pistol on his face? Where did that Walls guy go?" "He didn't show up." "He didn't show up. That's weird." "They first robbed the money on the table, then asked the card players to turn out their pockets one by one, and then robbed Mike who kept the bookkeeping. Mike kept the business income of the day, as well as the billiard room receipts and bets." "How many?" "All. Twelve thousand I hear. That's all I hear. Who knows how much?" "Twelve thousand." "Three men with pistols. Pistols." George said, rolling his hands around his waist a few times, like a Mexican gangster showing off his pistol.Rarely had Nick seen him so lighthearted and lively. Nick shuffles the cards and plays them. "I was going to buy some beer," Nick said. "Who would sell alcohol to minors?" "I told Donato's wife that I was nineteen. She said: Do you think I'm a fool?" "However, she still sold you the wine." "She sold me the wine anyway." "She did it with malice." "To whom?" "It's the way of the world," said George. "Wearing a sock mask, it surprised me." The two played poker for a while, and George leaned over to open the drawer under the table and fumbled for a cigarette without taking his eyes off the cards in his hand. "Do you have any condoms here?" "Don't care what I have here." "What does she do? Trust me. I'll tell somebody? Was it the one I saw you rowing with in the park the other day?" "If you see me out in public with some woman, she's not the woman who came here. You don't see me rowing with anyone, you ghost." "George, I mean it." "what?" "Are you arranging for a friend?" George gave him a cold, dark, empty look. "She's not a girl, she's a woman, and not for you. I'm turning forty, Nicky. You can't get what you want without spending a dime." Maybe that's what Nick finds interesting about George.Of all the people he knew, George was the loneliest.This sense of loneliness is reflected in George's gait, in the sound of his voice, in his posture.If the pool room was full of voices, insults, and harsh laughter, George's corner was deserted, even when he was playing with other people.George seems to take that loneliness with him everywhere he goes.This amused Nick.Maybe, George chose to live in this way, maybe, that's not the case.Anyway, he made it look okay. "Speaking of buying beer." "Yeah, what?" Nick asked. "This bad job. I think you should stay in school." "What do you say about this unlucky job?" "I've talked to people. You can make more money working in a van. Instead of delivering beer, it's soda. Delivering to stores and supermarkets. 7-up." "Drinking that stuff makes me shake." "You just shake and go. You unload the crate with the drink and move the empty crate to the car. It makes you a man." "Make me a man, how can I change?" "Hard work, that's all. In the summer, you'd be damn tired. I did it all summer. It's fucking unbelievable. Lost twenty pounds in two days." Nick believes that it is not necessary for a person to hold a job all his life, to start a family, to live in a house, and to have dinner on time at 6 o'clock every night.He thought of George.George was older than himself and had lost many things—oh, not lost, but never had anything.However, he still came over.George played cards, played pool, slept with women, with only a handful of dollars in his pocket, and little time to think.Fuck you, I'm going to die alone.That's what George said in his heart. "Is the salary good?" "A bit more than you have now, more stable, more secure. You'll be tired enough to have a hernia the first week, though, and a stroke after summer. It'll make you a man, Nick." "thanks." "You don't have to say anything. Maybe they'll hire you, maybe they won't." "I want you to know that I thank you." "They'll look at you and say, this guy wants to fuck women all day long. We better go get a Polish guy somewhere." Nick liked the way George spoke.The two played poker for a while, and Nick noticed that George's eyes were a little strange, and he was looking at him. "You think I have condoms in the drawer here?" "I have no idea." "Would you like to see what I have here?" "I don't know, George. Yes, why not?" "No. I don't want you to see what's in here." "Yes, why not?" "No. That would be a big mistake. You'll tell somebody." "I won't. Who shall I tell?" okay.George was joking with him and didn't change his attitude.George was blunt, slow-talking, tired, with thinning hair and long nails smeared with smoke oil. "Because I believe in you, Nicky." He reached into the drawer and pulled out a box of matches and a spoon. "These wooden sticks and matches, we used to call light sticks." The kitchen utensil was an ordinary spoon with a dirty bottom, about the same size as George's fingers, but darker in color, as if coated with marble dust. "I'm watching," Nick said. "You are interested in?" "I'm interested," Nick said. George reached into the drawer and pulled out a length of elastic, medical-like, some sort of binding.He threw it beside the match and looked at Nick. "I'm still watching." "Are you watching?" "I'm watching." George reached into the drawer again and pulled out a hypodermic needle.A needle attached to a dusty syringe.George picked it up and brought it up to Nick. "You're watching? Look." It took a moment for Nick to understand what was going on.It's something he hasn't tried.poison.Is anyone nearby using drugs?He was speechless, feeling the confusion suddenly become very small. "You use this thing?" George reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a folded pouch, shook it a few times, and put it back in. "Heroin," he said. Nick was speechless, feeling like he had been punched in an alley, with a bang in the head.He almost put a hand on the back of his neck. "Let me take a look," he said. George took out the little bag and handed it to Nick.Nick opened the mouth of the pouch and tried to inhale the powdery stuff inside. "What do you smell? It doesn't smell." Nick returned the pouch to George. "what happened?" "What's going on?" "You use this thing." George rolled up his left sleeve.The arms were covered with circular scars and scars, and in the elbows there was a dark, festering mass of broken blood vessels and damaged skin. At this time, George was waving the needle and had fallen into ecstasy. "You asked me if I made arrangements for friends? What kind of arrangements?" "Hmph, take it away." "Start slowly, subcutaneously, without touching a blood vessel." "I faint, George. Keep that thing away from me." "Push the syringe, see." "I don't need this thing." "Come on, let me tie it up for you." 乔治挥舞着弹性带，尼克觉得自己必须站起来，到房间另外一侧去。年龄较大的人喜欢看到他这样的反应。 “怎么回事儿？”他问。 “怎么回事儿？怎么回事儿？你只想和女人上床。怎么回事儿？”乔治说。 多年以来，孩子们在下院子里玩追踪游戏，还有赢小钱的骰子游戏。在天热的日子里，年龄较大的孩子可以索要一个小桶饮料，站在荫凉处喝几杯。女人们站在窗口，一边呼吸空气，一边抱怨自己遭到的责骂。 “你把那针头扎进自己的胳膊？哎呀，那东西我见着就害怕。” 乔治笑了起来，觉得开心。他把展示的东西全部放进抽屉，点燃一支香烟，坐在那里吞云吐雾。 两人重新聊起了抢劫的事情，过了片刻，说话的口气恢复正常。 “该走啦。”尼克说。 "Take care of yourself." “在麦克那里见。” “保重。”乔治说。 尼克在昏暗的通道中转了一个弯，走出去，进入一个靠墙堆放着垃圾桶的小院。他顺着后面的楼梯，拾级而上，经过笨重的金属大门，进入自己的公寓楼。 没错，乔治让他威风扫地，但也教他懂得了如何处理严肃的事情。 事情发生在当天课程快要结束的时候，完全出乎大家的预料。这肯定是她刻意计划的，发生在转瞬之间，叫人猝不及防。 修女正在黑板前面分析一个复合句，画出的图解非常复杂，层层叠叠，有点像大多数孩子住的公寓楼外墙上的防火楼梯。 她停下来，让大家明白将会出现什么事情，但却没有时间猜测究竟是什么事情。 突然，她大声叫喊：“卧倒隐蔽！卧倒隐蔽！卧倒隐蔽！” 孩子们顿时懵了，头脑麻木，呆头呆脑，无法思考，行动缓慢，笨手笨脚。他们开始从座位上跌跌撞撞地站起来，书本撞落一地，互相推搡，急促奔向三面预先规定的墙壁，半蹲下来，就像站在土豆袋子里。 第四面是靠窗的墙壁，有人告诉他们，应该避免蹲在那个位置上。 马特看见，弗朗西斯·X.卡瓦诺跌跌撞撞，径直撞在桌子角上，不禁觉得自己腰部一震。 修女的声音尖利，在教室里面回响，蹲下躲避，卧倒隐蔽。孩子们你推我搡，争夺位置，然后进入屈膝状态，脑袋对着地板，眼睛紧闭，两手捂着面孔，防止爆炸闪光的伤害。 他们花了很长时间才找到位置，渐渐安静下来。 马特把脑袋靠在离他最近的衣帽间门的角落上。他喜欢卧倒隐蔽。这种训练有一种同步行动的感觉，让他感到开心。这个动作与两个同学一起开启或者关闭衣帽间门没有什么两样，与齐声回答修女提出的教义问答上的问题没有什么两样。数字让他产生愉悦感。蹲在地板上，姿势与其他人基本相同，这让他觉得舒适，安全。突然袭击带来的混乱过去之后，学生们现在镇定下来。这是应对原子弹袭击的第一条规则，保持镇定，不要激动，不要让他人激动。另外一条规则是，不要触摸任何东西。 在卧倒隐蔽的训练过程中，他心里产生一种奇怪的归属感。这里的人模样相似，行为相似，一个个脑袋向下，肘部夹紧，屁股朝天。这个孩子脑袋里想着国际象棋的三十二个棋子，想着数以亿计的国际象棋走法，这时喜欢待在预定的位置上。修女重复告诫和命令的声音在他耳边响起，就像是在另一个难以名状、烟雾弥漫的日子里的警笛一样，时高时低。 保持镇定。 不要触摸东西。 不要接听电话。 拔掉面包机电源。 不要驾驶机动车。 用手帕捂住嘴巴。 他们做祈祷的姿势可能是来自任何地方的任何人，就像来自乌兹别克斯坦的撒马尔罕的虔诚教徒，正在顶礼膜拜自己的神灵。唯一重要的事情是自卑的恳求，对威力无比的蘑菇云表示崇拜。四十个充满活力的孩子沿着墙根排列起来。 她命令孩子们回到正常位置。他们站起来，找到散落在地上的书本，乖乖地回到自己的座位上，两眼望着埃德加修女，以便确定自己应该觉得多么愚蠢。 句尾不能使用介词，句首不能使用and。 修女对他们的表现并不满意。她俯身对着讲桌，两手紧紧按在桌面上。他们看见她的指关节已经失去了血色。 他们等着她发出重复训练的命令。