They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “What’s a tutor?”

  “A teacher who comes in and teaches me right here.”

  “In bed?” Larry asked.

  Jerome nodded yes.

  “Boy! Gene sure would like that.”

  We all laughed.

  Larry was right about school. After the first day, I was miserable. I went straight home. Larry was already there. He was lying across our bed, crying. I didn’t have to ask him how things went. I sat on the edge of Jerome’s bed.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  “Awful. I’m the oldest kid in the class, and the biggest. I stick out like a big toe.”

  “Why didn’t you sit in the back?”

  “I did. That’s how I know I’m the biggest.”

  “Did anybody call you names?”

  I nodded my head yes.

  “They really picked on Larry,” Jerome said. “He doesn’t ever want to go back.”

  “I know how he feels. I don’t want to go back either.”

  “I like Larry,” Jerome said.

  “Yeah. So do I. He’s my favorite brother.”

  “That’s not hard to understand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you and Larry are very much alike. You play together. You went through the same things. You know, the homes. You were both left back. You feel the same things. George and Walter are in high school. They don’t know what you two are going through. And Gene is just a baby. That’s why it’s not hard to understand you liking each other the best.”

  Jerome reminded me an awful lot of Mark. There seemed to be a little wise man inside of each of them. He even looked a little like Mark.

  In the days that followed, I played with Jerome every day after school. Larry started to play hooky and hang out with some kids who went to a different school. They, too, were playing hooky. Even though I knew about Larry not going to school, I didn’t tell anybody.

  On Saturday afternoon Mom sent me and George to Hanscom’s Bakery for Jerome’s cake.

  “How’s school?” he asked.

  “Lousy.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “Ah. I don’t like school no more. None of the kids I used to play with play with me anymore.”

  “That’s tough, kid. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Larry don’t like school no more, either.”

  “I know. I saw him a couple of times in the street when he shoulda been in school.”

  “Uh…really?” I said. I was trying to look surprised.

  “I ain’t gonna tell Mom.”

  “Oh, good. The kids really pick on him a lot.”

  “Yeah, I figured that.”

  We got Jerome’s cake and started for home. I was glad George wasn’t mad about Larry playing hooky. I was glad he wasn’t going to tell Mom. Sometimes George can be pretty nice. Sometimes he shows he really does know what Larry and I are going through.

  “Do you think someday Jerome will get better?” I asked. “You know, so he don’t have to stay in bed all the time?”

  “I don’t know. He’s pretty sick. Mom said they only sent him home to die.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. I had heard that for as far back as I could remember, but it hadn’t meant all that much to me. I guess it was because I hadn’t ever met him. Now that I had, I liked him. I didn’t want him to die. I wanted him to teach me how to build model airplanes and to play chess. I wanted us to have more than just the same last name.

  Jerome’s party was fun. Mom bought him two model-airplane kits, and Gene a coloring book. She always had to buy Gene a present when she bought someone else anything. He’d cry if she didn’t. George and Walter got Jerome some paints to go with his models. And Larry and I, after carrying packages at the A&P, got him a Captain Video secret decoder ring. I think we liked it more than he did. Jerome didn’t know all that much about Captain Video.

  After the party, Larry and I cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed. Gene was already asleep. Mom and George and Walter stayed up to have some coffee.

  “Want to play an alphabet game?” Larry asked.

  “Naaa. I’m kind of tired,” I said. I hugged Doggie to my cheek.

  “Do you think Jerome’s gonna die?” Larry asked.

  “Uh…I hope not.”

  “I hope not too.”

  “You know, George knows about you playing hooky.”

  “What!” he said. He sat up.

  “Yeah. He told me today, he knew.”

  “Oh, darn. Now I’m in trouble.”

  “He said he wasn’t going to tell Mom.”

  “Yeah, sure! The first chance he gets, he’ll tell her.”

  “He said he wouldn’t.”

  “And you believed him? Oh, darn!” He fell back.

  I drifted off, hugging Doggie and thinking about Jerome.

  After church on Sunday, Jerome gave me a chess lesson. It sure was a hard game. I kept jumping his pieces.

  “You’ll get the hang of it one of these days,” he laughed.

  “I doubt it.”

  “You will. Hey! Do you like baseball?”

  “Oh, yeah. I love baseball. Phil Rizzuto is my favorite player. They call him the Scooter,” I said.

  “Mine is Yogi Berra. The Yanks are going to play Philadelphia in the Series, I’ll bet.”

  “Oh, the Yankees’ll win.”

  “A lot of people in Philadelphia would argue with you there.”

  “Don’t you think they’ll win?”

  “Sure I do. I’m just kidding you. I think the Series will go at least six games.”

  “Hey! I got pictures of Phil Rizzuto and Yogi Berra. In my baseball-card collection. Wanna see them?”

  I got my collection and we looked at all the players. I gave him my Yogi Berra card to hang on his wall over his bed.

  “Where’s Larry?” Mom asked as she came into the living room. George and Walter were with her.

  “Uh…I think he’s downstairs,” I said. I wondered if George had told Mom about Larry playing hooky.

  “Get him,” she said.

  I dashed down to the front of the building and found Larry with a boy who lived in the next building.

  “Mom wants you,” I told him.

  “Oh, darn.”

  On the way upstairs, I told Larry what I suspected, just so he could be ready in case I was right.

  “What should I say?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Tell her you got amnedia.”

  “What?”

  “Amnedia. You know, when you can’t remember anything. Tell her you forgot where the school was.”

  “You’re nuts!”

  We went into the apartment. Everyone was sitting in the living room waiting for us.

  “Sit down, boys,” she said. “We have something to talk about.”

  “I got amnedia,” Larry said.

  “You got what?” Walter asked.

  “Amnedia. I can’t remember anything.”

  “You mean amnesia.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I mean. Ya see, I couldn’t even remember how to say it.”

  “Well, we’ll talk about your amnesia later.” Mom laughed. “Right now we have something to tell you. George is quitting school.”

  “What!” Larry and I said.

  “Yes. George is going to quit school to take a job. With Jerome home now, we need a bigger apartment. I can’t afford one on my own, so George decided to help out.”

  “I don’t mind staying in the living room,” Jerome said.

  “It’s more than that,” George said. He lit a cigarette. “I want a room of my own. Walter needs a better place to study…”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. George was going to quit school so that Walter could have a place to study?

  “…and the most important point of all is Larry and Jennings.”

  We perked up.

  “Being sent to those homes has destroyed their schooling here. They’re unhappy and they have no frie
nds. I think the best thing is for me to get a job so that we can move out of here. Does anyone have any objections?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “Good! As soon as I can get a job and we can locate a new place, we’ll go.”

  Larry and I jumped to our feet and cheered. Everyone was happy. Mom was going to have help. Larry and I were going to go to some new school and make new friends. Walter was going to have a better place to study, and Jerome wouldn’t have to sleep in the living room.

  “Oh, one more thing.” George broke into everyone’s excitement. “I want you, Jennings, and you, Larry, to do the best you can with school until we move.”

  It took a few months for George to get a job and save enough for the move. He worked at a machinery company somewhere in Brooklyn as a draftsman’s trainee. Walter, so he wouldn’t be outdone, took a part-time job after school. Larry and I took the abuse and went to school every day. It was easier for us, knowing it wouldn’t be forever. Mom changed jobs and was now working for a real-estate company. She found a house to rent on Coolidge Avenue in Kew Gardens, Queens.

  Larry and I were in charge of packing. I divided my time between packing and playing with Jerome. He finally taught me enough chess to play him. He beat me. Larry and I packed everything in the house and repacked everything Gene unpacked. We packed up Jerome’s things last.

  I was putting his models in a box while Larry was taking the things off his wall.

  “I didn’t know you liked Phil Rizzuto,” Larry said to Jerome.

  “I put that up for Jennings,” he said, “when Rizzuto won the MVP in the American League.”

  I looked up, and sure enough, there was the Scooter’s picture. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it. If Berra wins next year, I’ll expect you to put his picture up.”

  “You got a deal.”

  We shook hands. He quickly pulled his hand away and grabbed his chest.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know.” He gasped.

  “Mom!” I cried out. “Jerome’s sick!”

  Mom and George rushed into the living room.

  “What’s the matter?” she screamed.

  “I don’t know, he just grabbed his chest.”

  Jerome fell forward on the bed. He turned as white as snow. George ran from the room to call the police. Mom lifted Jerome and held him in her arms. She cried and rocked his limp body. George returned from the phone. He pushed Larry, Gene, and me into the back bedroom and closed the door.

  Five or ten minutes later we heard many voices coming from the living room. Larry was trying to see through one of the cracks in the door. I was trying to see through another. Gene was playing with Doggie.

  I saw some men lift Jerome onto a stretcher. I pushed open the door.

  “Jerome!” I cried.

  He turned his head in my direction and smiled. His eyes were closing. One of the men put a green thing over his pale face. I was close enough to touch his hand. He closed his fingers around my hand. He tried to squeeze, but couldn’t. He didn’t have any strength. He opened his eyes and blinked. He mumbled something through the mask, but I couldn’t understand him.

  “We have to take him now, son,” one of the men said.

  I leaned down and kissed his fingers. They wheeled him away.

  “‘Bye,” I said in a whisper.

  Is that all I would ever know of Jerome? Would he die now, like everyone always told me he would? I hurt so much inside. The pain told me we had more than just the same last name.

  8

  We moved into the new house the week of Thanksgiving. Mom and George were having such a hard time keeping up with all the new bills in this more expensive place, there wasn’t any money for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving passed unnoticed.

  The new house was small, white with green trim, and set back from the quiet tree-lined street. We were wedged in between two larger houses. It made our house look a little like a doll’s house. There was a cherry tree in the front yard next to a wishing well, and hedges all along the front.

  It was really very different living here. It was quiet. There were no neighbors to speak of, no friends, and no people around. The toughest part of living here was the lack of money. There was hardly any food around, and I was hungry all the time. There was no money for books or school supplies. That made a real difference in this new school we went to. Everyone seemed to be from wealthy families. They had everything they needed, and more. They looked at me as though I were a rag picker, and even called me that sometimes.

  St. Benedict’s in Richmond Hill was in the next town, about three miles away. Needless to say, there was no money for bus fare, so Larry and I walked.

  “I hate this school as much as I hated Our Lady of Mercy,” Larry said. “Maybe more.”

  “The school’s okay. It’s the kids I don’t like.”

  “Yeah, well, I mean the kids. They’re all rich and they sure let you know about it. I feel like a beggar in these clothes.”

  We walked in silence. I was feeling pretty much the same as he was. I had socks with holes in them, and baggy pants. I had so many knots in my shoelaces I couldn’t untie my shoes even if I wanted to.

  I sat in the back of the room to hide the holes in my socks and the knots in my shoelaces. Some of the kids made fun of my name or my clothes, but most of them just ignored me. I liked that better.

  I was at St. Benedict’s about a week when Miss Keller called me up to the blackboard. Miss Keller was a lay teacher—that meant she wasn’t a nun. She was very short and dumpy. She twitched her left eye almost constantly. Anytime she turned her back, all the kids would twitch their faces and blow air into their cheeks to look very fat. Everyone was continually giggling throughout the day. She gave me a problem that involved adding fractions. I had never been taught fractions, so I didn’t have the slightest idea even where to start.

  “Excuse me, Miss Keller,” I said.

  “What is it now, Burch?”

  “I don’t know anything at all about fractions.”

  That got a great round of laughter from the kids.

  Miss Keller paid no attention to me or what I had said. She addressed the class. “Now, boys. I want you to see what a really stupid kid looks like.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “This is what’s going to happen to you if you don’t study and don’t pay attention in class.”

  “But, Miss Kel—”

  “Look, Burch!” she snapped. “You’re going to stand at that board until you solve that problem. I don’t care how long you have to stand there. Now, boys, let’s turn to page one-twenty-seven,” she told the class.

  I stood at the board looking at the problem. I tried shutting out the giggles and remarks like “Dummy” coming from behind me, but I couldn’t.

  “Look at Burch’s Catholic socks,” somebody said. “They’re holy!”

  I wanted to disappear.

  “Quiet down, boys,” Miss Keller said.

  There wasn’t any way I was going to solve this problem, I thought. I’ll just stand here until school is over. Tonight I’ll talk to Mom. Maybe she can figure out a way for me to learn fractions.

  While Larry and I did the dishes, I told him what had happened.

  “Don’t ask me about no fractions,” he said. “I had them and still don’t understand them. They’re hard.”

  “When I’m finished here, I’m gonna ask Mom to take me out of school.”

  “Are you nuts? She ain’t gonna take you outta school. She’ll say ‘Do the best you can.’” He did a poor job of mimicking her voice.

  “Well, it don’t hurt none to ask.”

  We finished up the dishes and left the kitchen. Mom was in her bedroom reading a magazine. Larry followed me in.

  “I gotta talk to you about this new school,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t like it, because I don’t want to hear that. I had a hard time getting you into that school in the middle of the term.”<
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  “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.”

  “Oh, Mom!” I pouted. “I don’t understand anything they’re doing.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to do the best you can.”

  “I told you,” Larry quipped.

  “Oh, gosh!” I huffed. I stamped my feet as I left the room, to show my disappointment.

  “Lift your feet,” she called out.

  “I told you so.” Larry sneered as we went into our bedroom.

  I plopped down on the bed. “Yeah. You told me.”

  “Now you want me to tell you how to solve the problem?”

  “I thought you didn’t know anything about fractions.”

  “I don’t. But that ain’t the problem I’m gonna help you solve.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “I’m gonna help you solve the problem of school, period!”

  “How?”

  “Play hooky!”

  “How do you get away with it? Don’t the school check?”

  “Sure they do, at least in the beginning they did. I just waited around for the mail and took out any letters that came from school.”

  “What did the letters say?”

  “I don’t know. I never read them. I just threw them away.”

  “Where do you go every day?”

  “I sneak under the turnstile in the subway and go to Manhattan.”

  “Alone?”

  “There ain’t nothin’ to it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll ask Walter to help me.”

  “Are you kiddin’? Walter wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t help anybody but Walter.”

  I hugged Doggie and tried to fall asleep. I was kind of scared of playing hooky. I didn’t think I would be able to go into Manhattan all by myself. If I went with Larry and I got lost, oh my gosh! Naaa. I’ll try to work out something else.

  The next day, Miss Keller didn’t even let me go to my desk. She grabbed a handful of my ear and pushed me toward my spot at the board. I stood there for the entire day, even through lunch. I wasn’t going to eat anyway, but she didn’t know that. At day’s end I left the board and the unsolved problem. I left the school. Some of the kids from the class were waiting out front to taunt me. They called me all the same old names like “Dummy” and “Stupid.” I walked away as quickly as I could. One of them threw a rock at me and hit me in the back. I wouldn’t flinch or turn back. There were too many of them.