Nobody's Family is Going to Change (9 page)

“Mr. Kelly has been reported to the police four times for drunkenness. He does not know who is reporting him, but
he has had to change his habits somewhat. He will never be a good father, in the opinion of this committee, but he is nervous now to think that his sons have friends who can bring people into the house to embarrass him. He was mortified by the adult who went with us. He said he had always wanted Jack to go to school, an out-and-out lie, and that he certainly would comply. As we all know, none of this is important. What is important is that Jack Kelly is no longer a slave.”

A great roar of applause went up. “Reporting on Committee 2 is Harvey Allen,” said Harrison Carter when the applause had been silenced by his clacking the two pieces of wood together.

Harvey Allen was a fat, boneless sort of fellow wearing a Norwegian sweater.

“Committee 2 went to the home of Mary Ann Boniface, one of our members. Mary Ann has been subjected to the advances of an exchange student from Italy who is living in the home for a year, while Mary Ann's brother lives in Italy. Mary Ann is fifteen. She has told her parents that the boy has tried to rape her four times and that when she comes home from school she has to fight him off. The father, who likes to have the boy around, will not listen, and the mother, who likes the boy to help with the chores, will not listen. The committee informed the Bonifaces that they would contact the Institute of Foreign Exchange, which arranged for the boy's visa, unless the Bonifaces agreed voluntarily to send the boy back to Italy. Mr. Boniface said that
his daughter was lying. It was the opinion of this committee, having known and worked with Mary Ann Boniface, that she was not a liar. We told the Bonifaces the facts, brought the Italian student into it, and talked to him until he finally admitted that he thought all American girls were that way, from American movies, and that he thought she would think he wasn't a man if he didn't do this. He finally came to understand that this kind of behavior not only was not required of him but was definitely not wanted by Mary Ann and was, in fact, making her hate him. Mary Ann then agreed that if he changed and stopped all that nonsense, he could stay on. The Bonifaces were told that they should know that among her friends Mary Ann has never been known to lie.”

Another roar of applause went up. Emma was stunned by it all. These people acted as if they had been doing this for a hundred years, and doing it well.

“How long has this Army been in existence?” she whispered to Cathy.

“Five years. It started when Harrison Carter was eleven. He's sixteen now.”

“Reporting for Committee 3 is Sissy Hendriks.”

Sissy Hendriks was small and ratty-looking, with a speech impediment.

“Committee 3 had bad luck. We went to the home of Jimmy Madden, one of our members, whose father is a down-and-out punch-drunk prize fighter by the name of Mad Dog Madden. Mr. Madden was not in the least
interested in what we had to say and simply tried to beat up all twelve of us. He has beaten up Jimmy for years, so that Jimmy stutters badly and his left arm doesn't work very well, because years ago Mr. Madden broke it. It was never set properly, and healed crooked.

“Jimmy is fifteen. Next year he can get a job and move away. He wants to continue with his schooling, but living with Mad Dog and being afraid is making him unable to concentrate on his schoolwork. Arrangements have been made to have Jimmy live in the home of another of our members, Jake Matthews. Mrs. Matthews runs a dry-goods store, she likes kids, and she can use Jimmy's help in the store after school. The twelve committee members were treated for bruises and cuts at Saint Vincent's Hospital, after Mr. Madden tried to throw all of us down the steps. Mr. Madden's only response to Jimmy's moving out was: ‘Good riddance.' I say good riddance to Mr. Madden and to all parents like him!”

Sissy Hendriks raised her hand in the power salute and brought down the house. The noise was deafening. Harrison Carter had to beat his sticks together for several minutes to get everyone quiet.

“Time is up. Each brigade will gather complaints and bring them up here. Until next week then. Welcome to our new members. Children First!” Harrison also gave the salute, and there was more applause as he jumped down.

“I'm handing in the ones we have. Do any of you new members have any complaints?”

Ketchum looked as if she'd swallowed a toad. “I'll have to think about this,” said Saunders, borrowing Emma's line and looking vastly important. Goldin nodded as though Saunders spoke for her too.

“I . . .” Emma began.

“Yes?” asked Cathy.

“Is any kind of complaint valid?” asked Emma.

“Yes. I mean, if you want the wallpaper in your room changed, or something, the committee takes a dim view of that. In general, the children who qualify are being hurt, either now or in the future, by something the parents are doing.”

Emma looked uncertain.

“Want to think about it?” asked Cathy.

Emma nodded gratefully.

“Some of our members never hand in complaints. You know, you don't
have
to. It's just that most people want to see justice done some place. I mean, that's usually what's brought them here, but I've never handed in a complaint, for instance—that's what I mean, you don't
have
to.” Cathy smiled again.

“I'll take these two complaints up,” she said, and went toward the pile of crates.

“Well,” said Saunders to the bespectacled boy, who always looked sad. “What happens now?”

“We go home,” he said quietly.

He looks miserable, thought Emma. I wonder if he handed in a complaint. His parents were ruining his personality, if nothing else.

Cathy came back. “There're a couple of things I have to tell you new members. One: never, ever tell anyone about the Children's Army. Two: if someone calls you on the phone and says the one word ‘Emergency,' hang up and come to this warehouse immediately, no questions asked. And it doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a family dinner either. Three: never discuss the Army over the telephone or any place you could be overheard. Parents listen all the time. Four: report injustice to a child whenever you see it, but do not act independently. We've found that we have strength in numbers. No one member is strong enough by himself or herself to accomplish anything. You will only get surrounded and beaten down by adults, and then you'll find yourself confessing. None of us want that, because that could blow the whole thing sky-high.”

“Does the Children's Army use violence at any time, in any way?” Emma decided to find out a few things
she
wanted to know, instead of being told things like a dummy.

“Never. Not in any way. Numbers are what we rely on, and the embarrassment of parents when caught by children. It almost always works. When it doesn't, we rely on getting sympathetic adults into the picture, which will always embarrass the parents. These adults never know of the existence of the Army. They think each case is an individual thing and that the committee members involved are friends, personal friends of the victim. That way they never find out about us.”

“Are there any dues?” Ketchum managed to say something. She looked as though she immediately regretted it.

“Yes. One quarter a week from each person. That's a dollar a month. People who don't have it don't pay it. People who have more give more. The money is taken in a steel box to a savings bank midtown. The account is listed in the name of the Child of the Month Club. The three officers elected each year can deposit and withdraw; no one else.”

“Suppose one of them is a crook?” asked Emma.

“I doubt that he would be unanimously elected, which is what has to happen for someone to become an officer. There cannot be one dissenting vote. We vote for weeks each year.” Cathy smiled again. She smiled a lot. “So far, it hasn't happened.

“I'll see you guys next week if you come back. If you don't come back, by the way, you still mustn't talk. The Army doesn't use violence, but it does use what we call harassments.” She laughed.

“What are they?” asked Emma.

“You'll find out quick enough if you talk.”

“What happens?”

“I don't think you ever want to find out.”

“What?” Emma couldn't stand it. “If you're violent to each other, it's still violence!”

“No. No violence. How would you like it, for instance, if you were turning in an A paper and a D paper was substituted?”

“Oh,” said Emma. “Things like that?”

“Things like that,” said Cathy. “Or have all your clothes taken out of your closet. Try and explain that to your parents!”

“That's stealing,” said Emma, feeling complacent. They could be caught if they did that.

“Suppose the clothes were brought back mysteriously and put back in the closet. That would be even harder to explain.”

Emma was silenced. So were Saunders, Goldin, and Ketchum. They all stood there, not knowing what to do.

“Brigade meeting is on Wednesday every week,” said Cathy. “It's in the park, weather permitting, or we go to my house.”

They all nodded.

“Why don't you guys go pay your dues if you want to?” Cathy smiled so brightly that it seemed only the natural thing to go over to the card table and hand a dollar bill to the girl there, who put it into a strongbox. Ketchum whispered frantically to Goldin, who produced another dollar and gave it to Ketchum, who gave it to the girl.

Everyone was going. A boy with a lapel pin that said
MONITOR
on it stopped them at the door.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why?” asked Saunders.

“We can't be seen leaving in droves. People will wonder what goes on here. Let the eight that just left get ahead a bit.” He ducked his head out the door and back in again. “Okay, you can go now.”

Once out on the street, they walked silently, four abreast, each sunk in her thoughts.

Emma felt as if her hair were standing on end, being
pushed out by the surprise in her brain. These people were really doing something! She looked sideways at the others. Ketchum was watching her feet. Goldin was chewing a fingernail. Saunders was pursing her lips and frowning like Judge Learned Hand. The tic took over suddenly. Emma watched the evolution of it in amazement. Extraordinary.

“I think,” said Saunders.

“Yes?” said Goldin.

“They seem like a good outfit.” Having delivered herself of this pompousness, she stared straight ahead.

“We,” whispered Ketchum.

“What?” asked Saunders.

“We joined. We're a good outfit, not they.”

Saunders looked at her. “True,” she said.

It came in on Emma then that she actually had joined. She became possessed immediately of a desire to get out. Here she was, a person who had never belonged to any group, not even a group of friends, joining up with a bunch of crackpots. Suppose her father ever found out about this? That's what he'd call them, a bunch of crackpots. That's what he called everybody. She had an image of her father being confronted by a committee. He'd have the police at the house in ten minutes. He'd have the whole Army up in front of the Grand Jury in twenty minutes. One word out of their mouths: “Mr. Sheridan, we understand that you are not sympathetic to your daughter becoming a lawyer, or, for that matter, to your son becoming a dancer—”
That's as far as they would get, and that committee would committee no more, they would have just committeed themselves to death.

“Do you think?” began Saunders.

“Yes?” asked Goldin.

“Do you think the four of us could get together and talk about this thing?”

“I think
somebody
better talk about it,” said Emma.

“You don't mean it?” Saunders stopped in her tracks,

as did they all, and looked at Emma.

“Oh, no, I didn't mean . . .” Emma suddenly realized they thought she was going to spill the beans. “I didn't mean that. I'm not going to tell.”

They walked on. “I mean, I want to talk.” Here she was, Emma, reduced to having to say she wanted not only to be part of this big group, this Army, but also to be part of this small group. Me, she thought, me, the non-joiner?

“What about Monday?” asked Saunders. “We'll meet after school and go to the park.”

“Great!” said Goldin, who would have given her life to meet Saunders every day after school.

“Okay?” Saunders looked at Ketchum and Emma. They nodded. “See you then,” said Saunders, and turned at her corner. Goldin went after her, and Emma and Ketchum watched them walking away hurriedly, their heads together as they went up the block.

“I live on the corner,” said Emma.

“I live over on York,” said Ketchum.

They walked along saying nothing, until they got to the corner.

“I'll see you,” said Emma.

“Okay,” said Ketchum, and ducking her head, she ran.

Emma felt as though she'd been through World War II, and it was now only five by the clock in the lobby.

She and Willie almost collided at the elevator. “Ho, Emma!” said Willie loudly, dancing around.

“Stop making a fool of yourself in the lobby,” said Emma.

Willie kept right on dancing. He seemed to be doing something different, as though he were trying out something new and couldn't get it right. He paid no attention to Emma.

“Can't you see people looking at you?” Emma whispered hoarsely in his ear.

Willie turned around and looked at the woman waiting for the elevator. She smiled at him. Just for that, he did a break for her.

“Oh, for God's sake,” said Emma. The elevator doors opened and they got in. The woman was evidently waiting to go to the basement, so she didn't.

Willie kept dancing in the elevator.

“I know something you don't know that's going to change your whole life,” said Emma, grinning evilly at him.