on the floor, that spreads the consumption, or on our sleeves, but in
a handkerchief or a clean rag. He asks us if we are good boys and
when we say we are, he says, Good Lord, whats this? Are they Yanks or
what?
Mam tells him about Margaret and Oliver and he says, Lord above,
Lord above, theres great suffering in the world. Anyway, well put the
little fellow, Malachy, in the infants class and his brother in first class.
Theyre in the same room with one master. Monday morning, then,
nine oclock prompt.
The boys in Leamys want to know why we talk like that. Are ye
Yanks or what? And when we tell them we came from America they
want to know,Are ye gangsters or cowboys?
A big boy sticks his face up to mine. Im asking ye a question, he
says.Are ye gangsters or cowboys?
I tell him I dont know and when he pokes his finger into my chest
Malachy says, Im a gangster, Franks a cowboy.The big boy says,Your
little brother is smart and youre a stupid Yank.
The boys around him are excited. Fight, they yell, fight, and he
pushes me so hard I fall. I want to cry but the blackness comes over me
the way it did with Freddie Leibowitz and I rush at him, kicking and
punching. I knock him down and try to grab his hair to bang his head
on the ground but theres a sharp sting across the backs of my legs and
Im pulled away from him.
Mr. Benson, the master, has me by the ear and hes whacking me
across the legs.You little hooligan, he says. Is that the kind of behavior
you brought from America? Well, by God, youll behave yourself before
Im done with you.
He tells me hold out one hand and then the other and hits me with
his stick once on each hand. Go home now, he says, and tell your
mother what a bad boy you were.Youre a bad Yank. Say after me, Im a
bad boy.
Im a bad boy.
Now say, Im a bad Yank.
Im a bad Yank.
Malachy says, Hes not a bad boy. Its that big boy. He said we were
cowboys and gangsters.
Is that what you did, Heffernan?
I was only jokin, sir.
No more joking, Heffernan. Its not their fault that theyre Yanks.
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