The Children Read Free Page B

but everything else is gone.
    The beautiful song inside of me went. I ran into the hall, where it was dark and comfortable, and I sat down against one wall. Nobody would think of looking for me there, but who would want to look for me? Through the darkness, I stared at my fingers, counting them. One to ten—they were all there. Why did my fingers make so much difference?
    But Marie— If I only could tell her some of the things I know, she would not be the way she is; for Marie is beautiful and perfect and fine. If I could tell her of the secret garden.…
    I read about the secret garden somewhere, and then I began to look for it. A beautiful garden, where you simply have to be happy. I knew it was somewhere.
    Behind our house, there is a yard, surrounded by a high wooden fence. To get into the yard, you go through the cellar, and then up a little flight of wooden steps with an iron railing. You open the cellar door, and you are outside in the sunshine, and in front of you is the fence. And just at the bottom of the fence, a little grass grows. I knew the secret garden was there, though I had never been there.
    If I could tell that to Marie—
    We could both come and stare at the fence. If you have a secret word, a door in the fence opens, and then you are in the garden. I saw myself walking in the garden with Marie. Of course, there is more sunlight there than anywhere else, and what a picture the sunlight would make of Marie’s hair and face! There would be flowers as blue as her eyes and as red as her cheeks.…
    But that’s dreaming—no more than dreaming, because I’m here alone in the hall, hiding from Marie. And what if Marie should come into the hall here, looking for me? What if she should?
    Jews were funny.…
    Marie screamed after him, “G’wan, run, yuh dirdy liddle basted, g’wan an’ run away!” And then she stopped abruptly, sat down with her hands in her lap, and then she began to cry. She didn’t know why she was crying—except that she satisfied some desire inside of her. But she would have to cry a great deal to satisfy it completely.
    Still crying, she rose and walked up the block. She crossed the street, and then, quickly, she stopped crying, rubbed her fists into her eyes. Ollie was coming.
    Ollie swaggered down the block, his hands in his pockets. She didn’t like Ollie, but how can you help admiring Ollie when he swaggers like that?
    â€œHey, Marie,” he called.
    â€œYou lemme alone, you Ollie.”
    â€œAw, Geesus, Marie, I ain’ goin’ tuh touchya. Whatsa matter witcha, anyway?”
    â€œYer allus fresh. You lemme alone, y’hear?”
    â€œAwright.”
    Ollie stopped in front of her, his legs spread, his hands still in his pockets. He smiled slyly at her, his handsome face knowing and sure, and then he took a handful of something out of his pocket. Whatever it was, it sparkled and gleamed in the sunlight.
    â€œWhaddya got?”
    â€œWouldncha like tuh know?”
    â€œAw, lemme see, Ollie.” She stared eagerly, then threw back her head, laughing. “Jus’ immies.”
    â€œBeauties.”
    They were red and yellow and blue, and the more she looked at them, the more she wanted them. Slowly, she reached out her hand.
    â€œGit away.”
    â€œJus’ gimme one, Ollie.”
    â€œYou git away.”
    â€œJus’ one.”
    Ollie seemed to consider. In his role of king, he was not above being benign. First to one side, then to the other, he cocked his head. He swayed back and forth, perched on the balls of his feet. He thrust out his hips, his hands in his pockets.
    â€œWell,” he said finally, “whaddya gonna gimme?”
    â€œI ain’ got nuttin’.”
    â€œWanna come down duh cellar?”
    â€œNah.”
    â€œI ain’ goin’ tuh hurtya, hones’, Marie.”
    â€œWhaddya gonna do?” She was wary and ill at ease. She knew what