Bridge of Sighs
of any other reason why he should be a bit of a doubter and a bit of a believer?”
“Who cares?” Perry said, hoping for a laugh but not getting it.
“Which answer would you prefer?” Noonan said, taking one last mock-thoughtful drag on his cigarette and getting the very laugh that eluded the other boy.
Mr. Berg turned to him, apparently delighted that Noonan had seized upon the sense of play. “You’re Mr. Lynch’s friend, are you not?”
Noonan nodded. “Yeah.”
“You say you are, but there was a slight hesitation to your answer. What made you hesitate?”
“You,” said Noonan, winning another laugh.
“Me? Good heavens. Am I making you nervous?”
“You’re making everybody nervous. About giving the wrong answers.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m making Miss Beverly nervous, I admit. She’s unused to confrontation, but you, Mr. Marconi? Come now, you wouldn’t shit a shitter.”
Everyone else in the room gasped at this.
“I said we’re friends. I think I know if somebody’s my friend or not.”
“I think you do, but here’s the question, Miss Beverly,” he said, turning abruptly away. “Don’t be nervous. We’d simply like to hear your opinion. Who do you think understands Mr. Lynch best, Mr. Lynch himself or his good friend Mr. Marconi?”
Was it Noonan’s imagination, or did Mr. Berg give the word “good” an odd emphasis that cast some doubt upon whether they were friends at all?
Perry interrupted. “How come you ask the same four people all the questions?”
Mr. Berg raised his arms like a conductor, and the entire class responded in a chorus, led by Noonan, “Which answer would you prefer?” Perry seemed on the verge of spontaneous combustion.
“Bobby,” Nan said, her eyes meeting Noonan’s directly. Ah, he thought. She’s caught on and is fighting back. Also, her aura was ablaze.
“You could be right, Miss Beverly. Like you, I wouldn’t sell Mr. Marconi short. No fool, our Mr. Marconi.”
“Are you going to play favorites?” Perry now wanted to know.
“I’d like to say no, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? We all have our favorites. I’m just like you in that respect. I like some people and don’t like others. For instance, you don’t like Mr. Marconi, am I correct?” He waited now, grinning, and Noonan had a pretty good idea what for.
So, apparently, did Lucy, who nudged Perry and whispered, “Which answer would you prefer?”
“Ah, Mr. Lynch, welcome aboard,” Mr. Berg said, then quickly turned his attention back to Noonan. “But Mr. Marconi, I really must insist you tell us why your friend’s a bit of a doubter and a bit of a believer.”
He shrugged. “His dad’s a believer and his mom’s a doubter.”
“Ah,” Mr. Berg sighed theatrically. “What they call a mixed marriage. True, what your friend alleges, Mr. Lynch?”
Lucy allowed that it was.
“And exactly what does your father believe in?”
“America,” Lucy said. “Our town. Our family. That people are basically good.”
“And your mother has her doubts?”
“Not really. She just—”
“Has her doubts, yes, I understand. Thinks people are basically up to no good, as Miss Beverly and I agreed earlier. I hope we aren’t boring you, Mr. Kozlowski,” he said, noting that Perry was sulking in his chair, “since we’re closing in on the subject of our seminar, and I’d hate to think you’re losing interest already, because I, for one, am very,
very
excited.”
T HAT EVENING Noonan’s head was still reeling. After football practice he stopped at Ikey’s, where Lucy was manning the register. They took one look at each other and burst out laughing. When Dec Lynch tripped down the back stairs from his apartment, they tried to compose themselves, but it was no use.
“You two giggle like a couple girls,” Dec observed, his head in the meat case, from which he extracted two thick pork chops and a small boat of potato salad for his dinner. “The hell’s wrong with you?”
“Which answer would you prefer?” they said in unison, and cracked up all over again, while he just stood there glaring at them. Finally, they became self-conscious enough to stop.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said, fixing Noonan. “And I want the truth. Do we stand any chance against Mohawk next Saturday?”
It was tempting to give him the Berg response all over again, but Noonan could tell the man was serious. A gambler, he wanted the inside scoop. “Hard to say,” he told
Weitere Kostenlose Bücher