Boys without Names (14 page)

“I bet you stole it,” GC says.

I want to scream, “I didn't!” But that will only fuel his ire.

“See what I told you! He is quiet, which means he is guilty.”

I point the beam at GC's face. His smile collapses.

“Gopal didn't steal the flashlight,” Rocking Boy says.

Before I can say a word, GC threatens him. “
Aie
Gopal's
chamcha
, I'm going to fix you so well that your ribs will poke out even more than they do.”

Thick Fingers is quiet. I guess he doesn't care as long as GC spews out verbal threats and doesn't touch anyone. I point the beam at Thick Fingers. He shields his eyes with his squat, square palm.

“We-we-we can't work, but that doesn't mean we have to ar-ar-argue and fight,” Roshan says. He has stopped crying. No one responds.

There's no light, so we can't work. This is the perfect time to share stories, but how could I after what happened last time I told them my
kahani
?

I let the storm and the darkness continue outside and stretch inside.

N
ight Chatterer cries and whines in his sleep. Clearly, he is afraid and upset. Only after he calms down do I drift to sleep, where past and present begin to blur.

Water has seeped into Jama's house. Naren and Sita bend to examine it, as if they have never seen water before. Aai puts our clothes on the shelf above the TV.

The water keeps on coming. In the beginning, Naren and Sita dip their toes in it and laugh. Aai hands them tea and a day-old
roti
. They have to eat standing up because the floor is wet.

While they're eating, Aai and I get busy. With small bowls, we scoop the water and dump it in the pail. When the pail is full, I open the window and Aai lifts the pail up and dumps it out. Then I quickly shut the window. Still, there is the same amount of water on the floor as before.

I don't know how many pails of water we dump out before Aai throws her hands up in the air. “This is not going to help.”

“Look down. The water is past my ankles.” Naren lifts up his left foot and wiggles it all around. Water splashes in front of him.

“Don't do that,” Sita says. “I wish there were a hill we could climb.” Her voice is pitched high with fear.

I want to tell her that there's nowhere to go, but she knows that. There are no trees or hills to climb.

Sita is done with her food, so I lift her up and put her on the stack of mattresses and pillows piled up on the wooden bench. I do the same with Naren. They dangle their feet, and Aai wipes them off with a rag.

“What if the rain comes up as high as these mattresses?” Sita asks.

I shake my head. “It won't.”

“How do you know?”

“You know how much it has to rain for water to come so far?”

“A lot?”

“That's right. So play up there.”

I hand them the cards Card-Man had given us, and both of them scoot toward the wall, fold their legs, and divide up the cards.

Aai and I fill the pail. When I open the window to dump water, I step back. Eerie quietness greets me and bright light floods the room. “The rain, Aai, it is gone.”

She glances at the twins, who are busy playing, and then moves close to me. I make room for her at the window. Her eyes are moist with tears, but before I say a word, she puts a finger to her lips and whispers, “Let's not upset them.”

She means Naren and Sita. No one is out in the street, which doesn't look like a street anymore. The water is still high, maybe up to my knees if I were to walk out. I watch as it swirls around our window and I see an aluminum pan bobbing in it.

“Should I get it, Aai?”

“No. It's too dangerous.” We both stare at the perfectly nice pan we can't rescue.

The water has stopped coming in and we're safe for now.

A comb, a pencil, and a pair of underwear float by. I'm tempted to call Naren and Sita to watch, but then they would want to go treasure hunting, and the water is still too high. They could drown in it. The thought sends a shiver through my body.

“Are you cold?” Aai asks.

I wake up still shaking.

Aai's soft voice fades as the room comes into focus. The scratchy feel of jute on my back, the smell of glue, the bumpy new mosquito bites are what I have. I close my eyes to see if I can crawl back to my dream and touch Aai's face.

She is gone.

I want to be with her. But I haven't figured out how to get out of here. Even when things look impossible, there has to be a way. Will I find something? Or will I be like a goat that circles the yard looking for a small hole in the fence to escape but never finds it?

I
lie awake thinking about Jama's street, the bridge, and Chachaji's shop until I hear the clock strike six times. Thick Fingers opens the shutters. One of the
nimba
branches is broken and it brings tears to my eyes. On top of everything, it is a dull, gray day—a day without personality, so morning, afternoon, and evening look the same. We quickly use the bathroom, drink water, and start work.

Three hours later, Scar is still missing. It is hard to keep on working without any tea, but this place gives us no choice, because if we don't do the work, we won't get any lunch.

By the time I hear the jingling of keys I have finished four frames. The door slams open. As soon as Scar steps in, he screams, “I'm ruined! I'm ruined!”

Then there is a silence for a few seconds before he thumps up the ladder.

“What did you do with the boxes? Because if a single frame is damaged I am going to kill you.” He pounds his fist on the wall and glares at all of us.

“We moved them up here,” Thick Fingers replies.

Scar's face relaxes. He looks around. “Good job. How did you do it?” he asks, walking toward the boxes.

Thick Fingers glances at GC. GC stares back as if to dare him to say that GC didn't lift a finger. “Everyone helped,” Thick Fingers says.

GC smirks. “It was my idea,” he adds.

“You're a smart boy. You will go far.” Scar thumps GC's back a little too hard because GC flinches.

Rocking Boy stops rocking and looks at Scar. “It wasn't—” he begins to say, but Scar doesn't hear him and climbs down the ladder.

Tarrer, tarrer, tarrer,
finally Scar winds up the clock.

“Say a word and I will turn you to ashes,” GC says. His words and steely gray stare deliver a threat right down to my bones.

I think Thick Fingers is worried about GC's temper and knows he can hurt one of us badly. Maybe that is why Thick Fingers doesn't speak up against GC.

Now Scar believes GC saved the boxes and maybe he will make him a leader. I can't let that happen. As scared as I am, I must tell Scar that it was my idea. If I do that
he will trust me and ask me to help him pack the frames. That is one way to get a little more freedom. And the more freedom I have, the greater the chance I will have to escape.

I chew my lip, wondering if I really want to talk to Scar.

We wait for Scar to call us for tea. The clap never comes. I guess he figured as long as we are working fine without it, why bother?

 

At lunchtime, when GC is in the bathroom, I tell Scar, “I was the one who came up with the idea of moving the boxes.”

He is sitting on the floor tying a string around a box. “And you want me to believe it, you stupid cockroach?”

I saved your frames and you call me a cockroach!
I want to snap. “It is the truth. Ask any of them,” I say, pointing to the rest of the group.

He stands up. “Here is the thing, boys. One of them is a liar. Who is it? If you don't know, stay quiet. But if you answer, make sure you don't make a mistake. If you do, you will pay a big price.”

There is a smug smile on his face as if he is enjoying this game. He folds his hands over his chest, look around, and asks again, “Tell me, who should I believe?”

I wait. The four of them stare at their feet and don't speak up. It is as if they have lost their tongues. Scar goes to each one of them and asks again. Night Chatterer shakes
his head. Thick Fingers does the same. Dimpled Chin looks up once but quickly drops his gaze back down. I guess he is afraid of his ears getting twisted again. Finally, Rocking Boy mumbles, “He is right.”

“Have you sprouted warts on your tongue? Louder!” Scar yells.

Rocking Boy points at me. “He is telling the truth.”

GC comes out of the bathroom.

“All of you go back except you two,” Scar says pointing at Rocking Boy and me. “You will both stand at
murga
, chicken, for an hour as your punishment for lying.”

“We told the truth,” I say. GC is climbing up, so I don't see his expression. I am sure he is happy that Rocking Boy and I are punished.

Scar whips out a long, brown, rubber tube. “See this tube? She'll straighten you out.”

Rocking Boy bends down, passes his arms between his legs, and grabs his ankles with his hands. It must be the way to become
murga
, so that is what I do too. My back is already sore from leaning over and working, but now it hurts even more. Scar raises the tube and it comes down on Rocking Boy's back,
satak
!

He flinches and his lips quiver, but Rocking Boy doesn't whimper.

Satak,
it comes down again. I cry out in pain.

“Just checking how well it works.” Scar puts the tube back on the wooden bench.

We have to stand like this for an hour. Time passes
slowly with my mind blank of thoughts and filled with pain. Slowly, the bowl of rice and
dal
I ate for lunch creeps back up to my throat. It tastes sour. I look sideways. Rocking Boy's eyes are closed and his face is scrunched up in pain. I am mad at Scar for punishing us, but madder at GC for being a lying rat.

My mind is no longer blank. It moves from one thought to another like a monkey moving from branch to branch.

Scar was quick to hand us punishment without finding out what really happened. GC has been with him longer and Scar must trust him a lot more than he trusts me. But his smug smile hid something. I think he knew I was telling the truth but he wanted to challenge the others. Did he want to see if anyone dared to take my side?

My plan didn't work and now that dishonest and shifty GC will be Scar's
chamcha
. GC will get me and the others in trouble, and Scar will kick, slap, beat, and starve us. GC and Scar will be two boulders squeezing us between them. We will be crushed to pieces.

The thought about being crushed sharpens my pain. If I stand too long like this my back will break. A fly lands on my face. I shake my head to shoo it.

“Why are you shaking your head?” Scar asks. I don't know why his face has an anxious look.

“Just getting rid of the fly.”

“Oh!” He looks relieved. He goes back to wrapping the frames.

Scar turns the TV on. I lift my head to try to watch, too. It is no easy task when your whole body is doubled over, but I curve my upper back and neck up as far as I can.

It takes Scar a few seconds to realize what I am doing. “Don't stare like that.”

Scar and I wait for the TV to come on, but nothing happens. Then I remember I unplugged it last night. When Scar sees the dangling plug, he is puzzled. He glances at me. “What? How did it come undone?”

I lower my head. Is Scar confused about how the TV came unplugged? Does he think my stare has something to do with it? When Scar gave me some stuffed onion and garlic bread, he had the same fearful look on his face. He didn't share his food with me out of generosity, but because he was afraid I had cursed his food and made it drop from his hand. Maybe he thinks my evil look has magically unplugged the cord. If he is that superstitious, I must make him think I have some kind of strange power.

I lift my face up to look at Scar again.

“What…why do you keep doing that?” he asks. His voice trembles.

I keep my gaze on him and move my lips as if I am whispering something. His face sags in fear. I don't blink and move my lips faster. “Are you casting spells on me?” he asks.

It is not a question I need to answer.

“Stop it! Go up, right now.”

I straighten up. “Us?”

“No. Just you alone.”

Inside I'm melting with fear, but I think of the story of Annasaheb Kotwal from Matheran to give me strength. “Can't do that.” I fold my arms in front of my chest and flutter my lips.

“Go. Both of you. Now.”

Rocking Boy's eyes are open, but I don't think he knows what has happened.

“It was my idea to save the frames by moving the boxes,” I say.

Scar looks from me to the TV and back. He is still puzzled.

I smile as I turn to go up.

Our punishment lasted less than an hour, so when we go up I expect GC to smolder with anger. He gray eyes flicker with surprise, but he doesn't look mad.

Dimpled Chin's face is radiant with happiness. “I knew you'd be back soon.”

Even though he didn't take my side, I forgive Dimpled Chin. He is so young, and Scar is so big and scary. Dimpled Chin must be terrified of Scar more than I am. I ruffle his hair as I sit down. Night Chatterer—I mean Roshan—doesn't look up. I wish he and Thick Fingers had said the truth like Rocking Boy did. Then Scar would have had no choice but to believe them. In this place I feel like I have one true friend, Rocking Boy. He
has already started working and rocking as if nothing has happened.

GC or Scar can never break Rocking Boy. Or maybe he is so crushed that there is nothing more they can do to hurt him.

The rest of the day, we all work in total silence, but tension has seeped in.