Dave at Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

look.”
    I looked. The room was oak-paneled. A telephone hung on the wall to the left of the desk. An electric log glowed in the fireplace on the opposite wall. A knickknack case stood next to the fireplace. It was very fine, like something Papa could have made. The door had small glass panes separated by wooden latticing.
    â€œThat’s enough,” Mr. Bloom said. “You don’t want to be in this office again. Only bad boys see this office twice, and you’re not a bad boy, are you?”
    I was supposed to say something. “I’m a good boy.”
    â€œYou’re not a bad boy?” he repeated, frowning. His glasses slipped sideways on his greasy nose.
    I already told him I wasn’t.
    He reached behind him for the yardstick on his desk. What had I done? I turned to Mr. Meltzer, but he was looking at his shoes.
    He must be deaf. I spoke louder. “I’m a good boy.”
    He raised the yardstick.
    Then I remembered. “Sir, I’m a good boy, sir.” Some papa.
    â€œGlad to hear it.” He put the yardstick down. “Welcome to the Home.”
    We left the office and I felt cold again. Mr. Meltzer took me to the end of the hall and around the corner. He opened the third door on our right. A roomful of boys dressed like me turned their heads to stare. The teacher said, “Another one!”
    Mr. Meltzer pulled me to a desk toward the back. I sat, keeping my eyes on my suitcase.
    â€œNew boy. Name’s Dave Caros.” Mr. Meltzer turned to leave.
    â€œMy suitcase . . .” I said, starting to stand.
    â€œIt’ll be under your bed.” He left.
    It better be.
    The boy on my left was bouncing up and down in his seat. His right hand jerked from the inkwell to his notebook and back again. His left hand drummed on the side of the desk, while both his knees pumped up and down. I leaned over and looked in the notebook. He was drawing violins. The page was full of ink blotches and smudges and, in between, violins.
    â€œNew boy,” the teacher called. He was short and almost bald—just a few gray hairs held in place with pomade. “I’m Mr. Gluck. Supplies are in your desk.” He went to a map of North America that was tacked to the wall next to the blackboard. “Stand up and show us what a scholar you are.”
    I stood. The boy on my other side started coughing.
    â€œWhat state is this?” Mr. Gluck tapped the map with his pointer.
    â€œNew Jersey.”
    That cough sounded bad. If I had a cough like that, Papa would have made me inhale steam, and he would have rubbed Vicks on my chest, and he would have kept Gideon away from me, and he would have worried.
    â€œWhat is the capital of New Jersey?”
    I had no idea. I didn’t say anything.
    â€œDave is a thinker,” Mr. Gluck said. “We’ll wait while he thinks.”
    No one laughed or even paid attention. The boy next to me stopped coughing gradually.
    â€œJersey City?”
    Mr. Gluck groaned. “They give me complete idiots. It’s a task for a wizard, not a teacher.” He walked to a spot two rows in front of me where a pair of twins whispered across the aisle to each other. Holding one of them by the ear, Mr. Gluck returned to the front of the room and went on with his speech about what dopes we were. The twin with the captured ear crossed his eyes and tried to touch his nose with his tongue.
    I wasn’t about to stand for hours, waiting for the teacher to give me permission to sit. I sat and opened my desk. Inside were a notebook, a bottle of ink, a pen, a pencil, and three textbooks. Gideon would have pulled out the textbooks and started memorizing them. I took the notebook and the pen and ink. I wanted to try drawing violins and see if there was something special about doing it.
    A boy in the first row raised his hand. When Mr. Gluck called on him, he said, “I need the toilet.”
    Mr. Gluck nodded and pointed at the boy next to the