At least Hersh hadn’t made him load the gun. The clip inside was only for show.

You’re gonna look like an idiot if you show someone some steel and there ain’t no clip in it. You’re gonna look real stupid.

Hersh swore that the clip was empty. He showed Noam that it was empty. But still Noam wished that the clip wasn’t there at all.

Maybe he should just pull it out.

But then Hersh would get mad at him.

Something warm and wet was leaking from his body. He must have gone to the bathroom twenty times, but there was still something in there. He felt his head swell up, throb with pain. He felt his knees knock together.

He began to hear himself drawing for breath.

Third time tonight he began to gasp for air. He knew what to do by now.

Deep breaths. Slow yourself down to deep breaths.

The tears started coming, blurring his vision. He wiped them away on his jacket.

He heard a sound and felt himself stiffen.

A second of silence.

Another hoot.

His hand gripped the gun, turning his knuckles white.

Then nothing.

No one.

The alley was deserted. So were the streets. This back way was in the better part of the city, not too far away from all the courthouses. Where they were staying…that area was full of weirdos and bums, most of them blacks or Puerto Ricans. (Did they have Puerto Ricans in California or was it Mexicans?) There were loads of drunken old guys talking to themselves, walking with limps, pulling on their hair. They all stank from liquor.

After waiting for Hersh in this alley, he probably stank too. Hersh promised to get him an Aerosmith T-shirt after this was over. Though Noam wanted the T-shirt, he wondered whether it was smart to spend on clothes when they needed money for food and a place to stay.

But Hersh became real mad when Noam told him his concerns.

Hersh was great to talk to as long as you were complaining about your parents, about the rabbis. When you complained about anything else, he pounced on you like a tiger.

Better not to speak unless spoken to.

Again the tears. How he wanted to go home, but he was so afraid. What if his parents wouldn’t take him back? Course they had to by law, but…what if they wouldn’t forgive him?

They’d have to forgive him if it was Yom Kippur. That’s what Yom Kippur was for. If he didn’t make it back by this Yom Kippur—which was in four days—he’d have to wait a whole other year.