Yossi's Goal (6 page)

Whatever Daniel was up to, Miriam was mixed up in it too. Yossi often saw them whispering together. Sometimes she even went with Daniel to the meetings—much to Mama's disapproval.

One evening when Miriam was tying on her headscarf, Mama scolded her, “What do you think you're doing, young lady, running out after dark, getting involved in labor meetings and unions and God knows what? It's not proper!”

Miriam buttoned her coat. “I'm fighting for a better world, Mama—so my children, God willing, won't have to live like this.”

Mama couldn't argue with that.

The next morning, as Yossi was leaving to pick up his newspapers, Daniel followed
him down the stairs. Glancing right and left, he said in a low voice, “Yossele, I need your help. I shouldn't drag you into this, but…I don't know what else to do.”

“Sure, Daniel,” Yossi said. “What?”

“Let's walk,” Daniel said, and they strolled down the street. Daniel looked around to make sure no one was near. “Listen, Yossi. One of our comrades, Solly—you know him, he works in the packing room—”

Yossi nodded.

“Well, his brother-in-law works in a print shop, and we've had him print up some handbills urging the men to form a union—not just at Steiner's but at all three sweatshops in the neighborhood. Solly's going to bring them to work today. But I don't want him to give them to me because—”

He broke off, waiting until a pair of workers, heading toward them, had passed by.

“Because I know they're watching me. So…” He hesitated, then plunged on.
“Would you take the packet instead, Yossi? No one suspects you. Stuff it in your bundle, hide it under your shirt, whatever you like. Take it home and give it to Miriam. She'll take care of it. What do you say?”

“Sure!” Yossi said.

“Not so loud,” Daniel whispered, looking around. “Listen, Yossi, this isn't a game. It's serious. You could get into real trouble. Your papa would kill me if he knew I'd dragged you into it.”

Yossi thought for a moment. Was this what Papa had meant when he talked about danger? Yossi didn't understand exactly what unions were all about, but he did know that Papa would disapprove if Yossi got involved. And that Yossi would get into a heap of trouble if he were caught. But he also thought that Daniel and Miriam were right to fight for the workers.

And besides, he thought with only a twinge of guilt, he wasn't doing anything much, just taking a little packet. Papa
would never know, and no one would get in trouble.

“Don't worry, Daniel, Papa won't find out. I'll be as sneaky as anything.”

“All right, then.” Daniel grinned. “Thanks, Yossi. You're a real comrade.”

Giving Yossi a hearty pat on the back, he veered off toward Steiner's. Yossi headed down the hill to the
Die Zeit
office. He stood tall. Comrade Yossi! A friend of the workers!

An hour later, Yossi's heart was pounding as he entered Steiner's packing room. A thought had just crossed his mind. What if he ended up with one of the other workers' bundles, instead of Solly's? How would he get the packet? Solly might have to give it to Daniel after all, and Daniel might get caught, and…

But in the end, everything went like clockwork. When the supervisor was looking the other way, Solly reached under his shirt, laid something on top of the pile and quickly covered it with several
pieces of fabric. He cut a length of burlap, wrapped and tied the bundle, then jerked his head at Yossi. “You there,” he said as if Yossi were just another delivery boy, “take this to Mrs. Jablonsky and be quick about it.” But he patted Yossi's shoulder as he hoisted the bundle onto Yossi's back.

When Yossi turned around, he was surprised to see Jonah Fishkin in the packing room. What was he doing there?

“Why, it's young Yossi Mendelsohn,” Jonah said in an unnaturally friendly voice.

Yossi ignored him, edging out of the room with an uneasy feeling. Then, when he opened the packing room door, who should be standing in the hallway but Max Steiner. What was
he
doing there?

Yossi quickly passed him by, his mind churning. Could Max have figured out that it was Yossi who had thrown the eggs?

He glanced back then, and what he saw froze him—Max, Jonah and the supervisor whispering together. And behind
them, a panic-stricken look on his face, Solly motioning Yossi to
go!

Yossi went. Darting out the factory door, he half-ran, half-shuffled down the street, the bundle bouncing on his back. When he reached the corner, he looked back. Max and the supervisor were just coming out of the building. Yossi whipped around the corner, nearly knocking over a woman pushing a baby carriage, then took off down the street, dodging passersby, the bundle jouncing from side to side.

That dirty rat Jonah! Yossi thought. Jonah must have learned about the hand-bills from Daniel and told Max Steiner so he could tell his papa. With a pang of guilt, Yossi realized that he'd forgotten to tell Daniel what Abie had said about Jonah.

The shouts of “Stop!” and “Get him!” grew closer and closer. Yossi knew that Max and the supervisor would soon be upon him. For a moment he thought of dropping the bundle and running away— but even if he saved his own skin, they'd
find the packet, and that would mean trouble for everyone. Yossi reached another corner and glanced back. They were less than a block away. Winded, he glanced around, seeking an escape. The grocer's where they'd got the rotten eggs! It was up ahead, and Yossi remembered there was an alley behind it. He darted into the narrow passageway between the grocer's and the shop next door, and turned into the alley. The wooden crate behind the grocer's was overflowing with spoiled vegetables, rotten fruit, sawdust and broken eggs. Wedging himself between the back of the building and the crate, Yossi crouched down, his nose filling with putrid smells.

Footsteps pounded up the passageway, then thundered past his hiding place. “Where'd he go?” the supervisor yelled.

“I know he came this way,” Max said, walking right past the crate.

The supervisor paced back and forth. “Well, there's no sign of him.”

“But I saw him—”

“Phew! It stinks!” the supervisor said. “Come on, let's go.”

They disappeared down the passageway.

When their footsteps had faded, Yossi eased out from behind the crate. He snuck through the passageway and looked down the street. Max and the supervisor were a block away. Yossi turned in the opposite direction, running as quickly as he could, reaching back with both hands to steady the bundle. He'd gone half a block when he heard, “There he is! Get him!”

They must have turned around and seen him! Panting, zigzagging from street to street, not sure where he was, Yossi ran…ran…. Turning down an alley, he found himself at the ice rink. And there were the French boys, skating back and forth, sticks in hand.

“Help!” Yossi cried in Yiddish, then sank to his knees at the edge of the ice.

The tall blond boy—the one who'd told Yossi the name of the game—skated over. The other boys gathered around.

“Bundle…packet…,” Yossi panted in Yiddish, pointing to his load. “Steiner's… they're coming…” He looked over his shoulder fearfully. “Hide me!” He put his arms over his head. “
S'il vous plait!
” he added desperately, hoping he'd got the words right.

For a long moment the blond boy stared at Yossi. He peered up the street. Then he sprang into action. Speaking rapidly to the others in French, he beckoned toward the end of the rink, where the burly boy in the red stocking cap was standing in front of the snowbank. The burly boy skated over. The blond boy ripped the bundle from Yossi's back and handed it to the burly boy, who was quickly joined by two others. Digging with their hockey sticks, they quickly hollowed out a space in the snowbank, shoved the bundle into it and covered it with snow.

The blond boy led Yossi across the ice, holding Yossi's elbow as his booted feet slipped and slid. He thrust Yossi in front of the snowbank and switched Yossi's
woven cap with the red stocking cap of the burly boy. He shoved the boy's stick into Yossi's hands. Shouting something at the others, he batted the lump of coal down the ice. The game resumed, just as Max and the supervisor came running down the street.

Leaning on the stick for balance, Yossi watched the two visitors out of the corner of his eye.

“Not again,” Max cried, stamping his foot.

“Where is he?” the supervisor said.

“He can't have just disappeared!”

The supervisor shrugged. Edging closer to the ice, he called in a mixture of Yiddish and English, “You boys! Did you see a boy go by? With a big bundle on his back?” He gestured to indicate the bundle.

The boys shrugged and shook their heads as if they had no idea what he was talking about. They continued their game, zooming up and down the ice. The blond boy got control of the lump of coal and started skating toward Yossi.

Don't come near me!
Yossi thought, panicked.
They'll see me!
But then he realized that if the boys purposely stayed away from him, it would look even more suspicious.

The blond boy advanced, pushing the lump with first one side of his stick and then the other. One short brown-haired fellow raced him for the coal with quick, choppy steps, but the blond boy was too fast. Pulling back with his stick, the blond boy looked up and his eyes locked with Yossi's. In that moment, Yossi forgot about the bundle and the packet and the danger—forgot about everything except what he had to do, which was to stop the blond boy from getting the lump of coal past him. He lowered his stick to the ice, keeping his eye on the coal. The blond boy fired. The lump rose into the air. Realizing his mistake, Yossi started bringing his stick up. Too late. The lump of coal sailed over his shoulder, into the snowbank.

“
But!
” the blond boy called. Cheers erupted. The blond boy slid into the
snowbank, stick raised, knocking Yossi off his feet and toppling both of them onto the ice.

“Those stupid Frenchies,” Yossi heard Max say.

“Come on, we're wasting our time,” the supervisor said.

When Yossi looked up, they were walking away.

Lying on the ice, Yossi found himself face to face with the blond boy. Blue eyes stared into brown. Yossi grinned. The other boy grinned back, revealing a chipped tooth.

“Yossi,” Yossi said, pointing to himself.

“René,” the other boy said.

Yossi pushed himself to his knees. He grasped René's arm. “Thanks!” he said in Yiddish.

René clasped Yossi's hand. “
De rien
,” he said. Yossi couldn't understand the words, but he knew that René was saying that it was all right.

The two boys got to their feet, and the others gathered around. René introduced
Yossi, then presented the other boys to him. Michel, the stocky boy who'd traded places with Yossi. Jean-Paul, the quick brown-haired boy. Hugo, a tall boy with a dimpled chin. Georges and Jacques, freckled boys who appeared to be twins.

All of them slapped Yossi on the back— except the boy named Hugo. He kept a little apart from the others and looked at Yossi warily.

René gestured down the street at the departing pair. He spat on the ice. “
Les maudits Anglais
.”

Michel rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. “
Les riches Anglais
.”

The other boys nodded, and so did Yossi, getting the meaning.

“My papa,” Yossi said in Yiddish. “Steiner's.” He mimed someone hunched over a sewing machine, pushing cloth through.

“
Oui, mon papa aussi
,” Jean-Paul said, gesturing to himself.

“
Notre maman
,” Georges said, mimicking
someone sewing tiny stiches with a needle and thread.

“Yes!” Yossi cried. “My mama too. And my sister.” He squinted as if to show how hard the sewing was on the eyes.

“
Oui, oui
,” Jacques said, rubbing his eyes.

Yossi sighed. So his family, and his friends' families, weren't the only ones toiling for the garment bosses. He'd seen the run-down houses in the French neighborhood—now he knew why these boys were as poor as he was.

That reminded him of the bundle. Hastily, he dug away at the snowbank with the stick and pulled it out. Then he hoisted the slightly damp bundle onto his back.

“Good–bye—and thanks,” he called.

“
Salut
,” the boys called.

Bent over, Yossi started walking away.

“
Attends!
” Michel yelled. Yossi turned back. Quickly Michel traded caps with him.

With a wave, Yossi left.