“He’s just realized that he’s the dregs of society,” Humpback proclaims thoughtfully. “It was a flash of lightning illuminating his entire existence. Zap! And down he goes.”
“Are you doing this on purpose?” Smoker says. “So that I’d have to throw up?”
The rag slithers down to his nose.
Blind noodles on the guitar, his hair touching the strings.
“Boys, don’t believe the talk,” Tabaqui and Sphinx sing in unison.
“There being no trees or pinecones,” Humpback’s voice carries upward to the ceiling, clear and precise.
“In Heave-e-e-e-n!”
Smoker closes his eyes.
The bed groans under the bulk of Black, who just lowered himself on it. His face is of a more livid hue than usual, and his breath is heavy. He’s drunk. This makes Smoker nervous.
“Was I right or was I right?” Black says.
Smoker sits up.
“Don’t know,” he says. “Can’t say.”
“Right about what?” Jackal inquires. “Who was right and about what?”
Black turns to face Sphinx.
“I bet you talked for a long time, but then it turned out he never said anything. He’s good at that. Flapping his gums for hours, and then you can’t remember a single word for the life of you.”
Smoker lies down again. He’s hoping that if he manages to lie absolutely still, his head will stop aching. Humpback comes closer and shakes an enormous striped knit stocking at him.
“Hey, Smoker. This is where the Christmas presents are going. What would you like? Make up your mind in advance, in case we need to order something from Flyers.”
“A working pair of legs,” Black responds for Smoker. “That’s what he really needs. Is it going to fit in your festive sack?”
Humpback blinks glumly.
“No,” he says. “It won’t.”
And walks away.
Smoker feels embarrassed. Everyone is looking at him. At him and Black. Not exactly with disapproval, but with a kind of weary resignation, as if they have worn out their welcome. Both of them. And even though what Black just did was the exact same thing Smoker himself had done to Sticks, he’s still uneasy. He wants to distance himself from it somehow.
“Black. Please don’t,” he says.
“I don’t give a crap about all those rules and manners,” Black says, his tone of voice indicating clearly that he’s over the edge. “All those taboos. Don’t say this, don’t mention that. I’m going to talk about whatever I want to talk about, got that? This is the last year for all these ostriches with their stupid heads in the sand. They only have six more months to keep it down there, but look at them, Smoker. Just look at the way they lose their collective shit anytime anyone tries to say anything about it!”
The deathly stillness that follows these words scares Smoker, but also fills him with an unexpected gloating.
Humpback, crumpling the handkerchief, his face slowly reddening.
Tabaqui, in his cloak of many colors, frozen solid, with the bite of food he was chewing visible under the skin of the cheek.
Blind, fingers on the strings almost as thin as the strings themselves. His face remains hidden.
Sphinx on the headboard, like a perched bird, eyes closed.
“One’s all about chicks and shells, the other—ostriches,” Sphinx mumbles. “One set of metaphors for both.”
“Why don’t you please shut up,” Black says, breathing heavily. “Like you didn’t piss yourself. You’re the same as them!”
“Sure. Not the same as you, thank God.” Sphinx sighs. “All right, if you’re done trying to mess with our heads . . .”
“Oh no-o-o,” Black smirks drunkenly. “I haven’t even begun. That was . . . by way of introduction. Letting Smoker have a nice, clear look at you. At the way you . . .” Black is shaking with mute laughter, unable to speak. “At the way you all alerted. Dogs, every one of you. Crazy, huh?”
He wipes the tears off his cheeks.
“Black, what were you drinking?” Humpback asks, panicked. “Talk to me. How are you feeling?”
Tabaqui makes frantic swallowing motions, trying to dislodge the piece of a bread roll stuck in his throat.
“Great!” Black shoots up and displays a wide, toothy smile. “I am feeling great!”
Smoker moves away a little. Black grabs his shoulder and whispers loudly in his ear, drenching him in alcoholic reek, “Did you see that? No, I mean it. Did you see them?”
“Yes. Yes, I saw them,” Smoker says, wincing. Black has him in a steel grip. “Black, I saw everything. Calm down, please.”
“You saw them, right?” Black shakes him. “Remember it well, and just wait till graduation day comes. We’re going to have so much fun!”
It’s not fun for Smoker right now. He yelps when Black tightens his grip even more, and tries to pry his fingers apart, hissing in pain.
“Black, let go! Please!”
Black releases him, and Smoker falls back on the bed with a sigh of relief.
“But tell you what, graduation is nothing. What I would really, really like to look at is them in the Outsides. Just a glimpse, you know! A minute or two! Because I can’t imagine them there, I really can’t, you know. I am trying and trying, and I simply can’t.” Black screws his eyes tightly shut. “Maybe I could help one of them cross the road or something,” he mumbles.
