The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [65]
“I still got my dose,” he said.
They told him it was tough, and he wanted to take care of it. Coady asked him if it was bad.
“It’s started again,” he said casually.
“Well, he careful,” Coady said.
The other lads piled into a hack, and were off. Studs watched them go, wide-eyed with admiration and envy, and yet quite disappointed. Then he watched Barlowe limp down the street, a big husky guy. He thought of the time when he’d be able to pile into a hack and go with the lads. He thought of Barlowe. He was afraid of things like that, and yet he wished he could stand on the corner and say he had it. Well, it wouldn’t be long now before he’d be the big-time stuff.
Davey Cohen, Tommy Doyle, Haggerty, Red Kelly and Kilarney happened along. Kilarney had a pepper cellar, and they went over to the park to look for Jews and throw pepper in their eyes. Over in the park, Studs saw a pretty nurse, and he started objecting that molls like that should walk around and not have guys taking care of them; it was a lot of good stuff gone to waste, he repeated, and the kids all laughed, because it was a good wisecrack.
III
Studs and Paulie walked south along Prairie Avenue, eating the last of the candy. The candy came from the famous raid on Schreiber’s ice cream parlor. Schreiber’s place was between Prairie and Indiana on Fifty-eighth. Schreiber was a good guy, but you know he liked his nooky, and he was always mixed up with some woman or other. They caught up with him. One day when Studs was walking down Fifty-eighth Street, he saw two dicks taking the guy away. The bunch found out, through Red Kelly, whose old man was a police sergeant, that Schreiber was in on a white slavery rap. Three-Star Hennessey discovered that the back door of the candy store wasn’t locked, and all the kids in the neighborhood raided the place. For five days they were filling up on sodas, having fights with ice cream and whipped cream, carting away candy. They stole wagons from little kids, and bikes, and carted the stuff to George Kahler’s basement. It was a swell feed they had. Most of them couldn’t eat supper for a week. But with so many hogging it, the loot didn’t last as long as it should have. Anyway, it was a time to remember for your grandchildren. They talked about it, and laughed.
“Well, it’s August already,” Paulie said.
“Yeh, Goddamn it!”
“I wonder what school I’ll go to next year?” Paulie said.
“Can’t you go back to St. Patrick’s?” asked Studs.
“Jesus, I don’t think so. And if I did get back, they probably wouldn’t pass me anyway... Say, why in hell is school?” asked Paulie.
Studs shrugged his shoulders and cursed school.
“Say, why don’t you bring your old lady up to see Bernadette,” said Studs.
“Maybe I will. Hell, St. Patrick’s gets more holidays and is out sooner in June than the public schools. Only I got bounced out of there three times already,” said Paulie.
“Well, maybe you can break the record,” said Studs.
“That’s something,” said Paulie.
They walked along. Paulie sniped a butt and lit it.
“Doesn’t Iris live here?” said Studs, pointing at a red brick, three-story building.
“Yeh, and I’d like to bump into her,” Paulie said.
“Me, too,