Page 42 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Marc Erdrich

side the synagogue just a few blocks from home, three Catholic
school kids ran up and grabbed him. He fell and started to cry.

“Come on crybaby, fight,” one of them yelled. Harry didn’t
want to fight. He just lay on the ground, refusing to get up.

“Get up and fight,” another one said, trying to pull Harry
to his feet.

“To hell with him. Just leave him be,” the third one in the
chorus said, kicking him in his back.

They left Harry lying on the sidewalk. After a while, he
got up, got back on his bike and rode home. For days after-
ward, his body ached all over. When his older brother heard
about the incident, he decided to teach Harry how to box, and
bought him boxing gloves; but Harry wasn’t interested in box-
ing even though he sometimes watched the Friday night fights
on TV with his father.
Another time, a late afternoon in winter, Harry was walk-
ing home from the house of a friend who lived just beyond
the Catholic school. It was cold and pitch dark except for a
single street lamp broadcasting a circle of light half way down
the block. Harry was nervous about walking past the Catho-
lic school alone and was thinking about taking the short cut
home through the back alley — something his mother warned
him not to do — when suddenly he was struck on the side of
his face by an ice ball obviously tossed from a good distance.
It was a perfect shot, hitting him in the temple. His face and
ear stung horribly. He screamed with pain and ran all the way
home, crying. His mother tried to soothe the pain with cool
water but nothing relieved the humiliation.

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