That’s what she said—‘bleshed’.
I opened the door then and cold air hooted in. ‘You louse,’ I said to the man, ‘you’re from the school.’
‘Close the door, Janie,’ said the man. The girl at the easel didn’t move, but the door banged shut behind me. I tried to open it and it wouldn’t move. I let out a howl, yanking at it.
‘I think you ought to stand in the corner,’ said the man. ‘Stand him in the corner, Janie.’
Janie looked at me. One of the three-legged stools sailed across to me. It hung in mid-air and turned on its side. It nudged me with its flat seat. I jumped back and it came after me. I dodged to the side, and that was the corner. The stool came on. I tried to bat it down and just hurt my hand. I ducked and it went lower than I did. I put one hand on it and tried to vault over it, but it just fell and so did I. I got up again and stood in the corner, trembling. The stool turned right side up and sank to the floor in front of me.
The man said, ‘Thank you, Janie.’ He turned to me. ‘Stand there and be quiet, you. I’ll get to you later. You shouldn’ta kicked up all that fuss.’ And then, to the baby, he said, ‘He got anything we need?’
And again it was the little girl who answered. She said, ‘Sure. He’s the one.’
‘Well,’ said the man. ‘What do you know!’ He came over. ‘Gerry, you can live here. I don’t come from no school. I’ll never turn you in.’
‘Yeah, huh?’
‘He hates you,’ said Janie.