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in disgust. “How d’ya like that question? The guy is past thirteen and he asks how much is a million bucks?”

      Dominick cut in, “Cockeye, you’re a real cluck, a million bucks is a million bucks.” “Yeh, that’s right,” Cockeye smiled, “but how much is it? You tell me, Dommie. How many thousands?”

      Dominick scratched his head. “I think a million is ten thousand bucks.”

      “Whattcha[27] talkin’ about, it’s more than fifty thousand, ain’t it, Noodles?” Patsy jeered.

      I was proud. I knew all the answers. That’s why they called me Noodles. I said importantly, “It’s ten hundred thousand bucks!”

      Pat smiled. “Yeh, I was just gonna say that.”

      The bell rang; we grabbed our books. The rest of the pupils stood respectfully to one side as we made for the door. Miss Mons stood up. She put her hand out to stop me as I passed.

      “You!” she said authoritatively. “Who, me?”

      I was ready to push her aside. Maxie stood beside me ready to help. “Yes, you, young man. Mr. O’Brien wants to talk to you.”

      “The principal, again?” I said in dismay. “What for?”

      “None of your questions, young man. You just march upstairs.”

      I turned to Maxie. “Wait for me, I’ll run up and see what the old cluck wants.”

      Max walked with me to the stairway. “We’ll be outside if you need any help,” he said. “Holler and we’ll come up and throw the old bum out the window.”

      “Nah, he’s all right, he ain’t such a bad guy, this O’Brien.” “Yep, for a principal he ain’t too bad,” Max agreed.

      He walked outside. I waited until he was out of sight. I did not want him to see me take my cap off. I knocked on the door. A pleasant bass voice said, “Come in, please.”

      I stood politely at the open doorway. “Did you want to see me, Mr. O’Brien?” I said.

      “Yes, yes, come in.”

      His large red face smiled a welcome. “Come in and shut the door. Have a chair, young man. I was looking through some of your test papers; they are very good.”

      He looked at me. He frowned. “But your application for work papers[28] is a disappointment to me.”

      I sat opposite him, feeling uncomfortabe. He pushed his chair away from his desk and tilted his chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head.

      He took his time about talking.[29] He just looked at me. Then suddenly he stopped rocking and leaned across his desk.

      “According to your school reports, you are an exceptionally intelligent boy. I thought I would talk to you —”

      He stood up and began pacing the floor. “Now don’t take this as another lecture. You haven’t many more months of school here, so your behavior one way or another isn’t too important to us – but,” he raised a finger dramatically, “your conduct from here on is very important to you and to you alone. This moment may be a turning point[30] in your life. I repeat, if you weren’t an intelligent boy, I wouldn’t try to make you understand the road you and your companions are following – the road that leads to no good. Believe me.” He said it earnestly.

      I sat thinking, let the old man talk himself out. What does he know about boys, an old guy like him? Yeh, he’s at least forty-five with one foot in the grave. He’s a good Irishman, though. And for a principal he’s the best we ever had.

      The principal continued, “Your environment is partly to blame. Do you understand what I mean by environment?”

      For a moment I forgot myself. “Do I know what environment means?” I sneered. He laughed. “I forgot, you’re the one they call Noodles; you know everything.” Quickly, I changed my manner. I mumbled, “Environment. You mean the East Side?”

      “Well, yes and no. Very many successful and good people have been born and brought up in this neighborhood.” He stopped and looked at me for a moment. “The last scrap[31] you and your friends were in – what was the real reason for it? Why did you boys do it?”

      I shrugged.

      “Do you know what I’m referring to?”

      I shook my head. I was lying. My face was burning. How did he know about it? “You know what I’m referring to.” His voice sharpened.

      “I’m talking about Schwartz’ candy store, the one you and your friends broke into a few days ago.”

      I wanted to sink through the floor[32]. So he knew. So the hell with him[33].

      “Don’t you realize that if it wasn’t for your rabbi and the priest of your Catholic friends, and a little help from me, you boys would have been sent to an institution of correction[34]?”

      I shrugged. That’s what he thinks, the cluck. He don’t know who squared the rap[35] for us. I wonder if I should tell him it was Big Maxie’s uncle, the undertaker, who squared it? He went to Monk, the gangster, and Monk went to the Tammany district leader, and he’s the guy who gave the judge his orders, before the rabbi, the priest, or O’Brien ever spoke to him. Dumb clucks, all of them. Monk and the district leader – there’s two guys to keep in with. They’re everybody’s boss – police, judges, everybody.

      “I’m talking to you, young man. Why don’t you answer?”

      I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn’t look him in the face. He continued pacing up and down. “I ask you, why did you do it? For the mischief? The money? Tell me, boy, do you get any spending money from your parents?” “Sometimes, when my father works,” I muttered.

      “Is he working now?” I shook my head.

      “How many times have I told you it is impolite to shake your head or shrug your shoulders. Speak up.”

      I shrugged my shoulders.

      He threw up his hands in despair. “Oh well – there’s another thing I’d like to know.” He hesitated for a moment. “All term I have been curious why it is you and your companions do not eat the hot free lunches provided for in the school? Instead, I have noticed you boys play basketball in the yard every day at lunchtime. You’re pretty slim, and I imagine you could do with[36] hot soup at midday.” His tone was kindly and hesitant. “Tell me, is it because it isn’t what you call kosher?”

      I shook my head. “Nah, it don’t mean a thing to me, kosher.” “Why then? I’m interested to know. What’s wrong with the lunch?” “Soup,” I said derisively.

      “Soup?”

      “Yeh, charity soup,” I muttered.

      “Hmmmm… yes, unfortunately, it does seem that soup and bread is the main dish to be supplied free of charge[37].”

      “Soup schools,” I said contemptuously.

      He smiled sadly. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before. Soup schools. Well, let’s forget soup for the moment, shall we?”

      I nodded.

      “All

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