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The Outcasts
by Daniel Mannix, illustrated by Leonard Shortall
As Dana Martin walked toward the group of children standing outside the school, somebody began singing in a funny high voice, "Rootie-toot-toot, rootie-toot-toot, here comes the girl from the institute," and all the kids began to giggle.
Dana did not like fighting, and most of the boys were bigger and tougher than he was, but suddenly he didn't care. Dana was eleven years old, and rather small for his age. He had never had any trouble in school until this year. Then a number of new families with rough kids had moved into the neighborhood, and many of the old families had moved out. Dana didn't like these newcomers, and they didn't like him. At the beginning of the term when they found his name was Dana, they had begun calling him "Miss Dana". At first, Dana had tried to fight them but he'd usually been beaten, so he had put up with the name calling. Now, although it was the last day of school before the summer vacation, he couldn't stand it any longer. He wasn't sure who'd been singing, but he thought it was a big boy called Bud who was supposed to be a great fighter. He walked up to Bud and said, "Was that you?"
"No, it was your grandmother," said Bud.
Dana said, "If you weren't chicken you wouldn't be afraid to admit it was you." He was ashamed because his voice shook and he could hear it shaking.
"Yes, Miss Dana," said Bud in the same high, squeaky voice he'd used when he was singing.
Dana punched him in the face. Because he wasn't a good fighter, he was surprised when he felt his fist plunk into Bud's mouth. If he had hit him again really hard, he might have won the fight right then, but he was so amazed at what he'd done, he just stood there staring at Bud, who stared back at him.
Then Bud dropped his books — really threw them down on the pavement — and started to take off his coat. All the kids began to scream, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" so excitedly that their voices were nearly as squeaky as Bud's had been, and they began jumping up and down, somebody shoved Dana's books out from under his arm, and they spilled over the sidewalk. The boys around him were pulling at him and shouting, "Take off your coat!"
Dana began to take off his coat, but he was scared now. Bud was rolling up his sleeves in a businesslike manner, and seemed to know a lot more about fighting than Dana did. But Dana got his coat off and hung it over a fire hydrant.
Bud came toward him with his left hand out and his right fist against his chest. Dana tried to do the same thing, but he got his hands mixed up and put his right hand out. A boy yelled, "Look, he's leading with his right!" The kids stopped screaming, and laughed, and Dana tried to switch his hands. Before he could do it, Bud hit him. Dana tried to duck, but Bud's fist struck him over the left eye. It was not a very hard blow, but it made Dana's eye water and he couldn't see. He staggered back to get away, but the kids pushed him forward. He and Bud struck at each other wildly, always for each other's face, while the kids screamed so loudly Dana felt as though he were surrounded by a wall of shrill sound.
He felt someone grab him by the shoulder and pull him back. He thought it was one of the kids, and screamed, "Let me alone!" But the hand was so strong it nearly jerked him off his feet. When he turned around, he saw it was one of the teachers.
"Stop this nonsense!" said the teacher angrily. He was looking at Dana curiously. Dana felt something wet and salty running down his face and into his mouth. At first he thought it was sweat, and put his hand up to wipe it away. When he looked at his hand, he saw it was streaked with red. Bud had given him a nosebleed.
"Get your handkerchief and wipe your face," the teacher told him. "Then both of you get inside and behave yourselves."
Dana got out his handkerchief and started to wipe his face. A few of the kids were staring at him as though he were a freak of some sort. But most of them were thumping Bud on the back and helping him put on his coat. Dana went to the fire hydrant to get his coat. One of the boys grabbed it and threw it to a friend, shouting, "Here, catch!" When Dana ran after the coat, that boy threw it to another.
Because Dana saw there was no use chasing the coat he ran at the last boy and hit him in the chest. The boy looked scared but put up his fists, and another fight began.
The teacher broke it up. This time he not only grabbed Dana by the shoulder but shook him hard. "What's the matter with you, anyway? What are you, some kind of wild animal?"
Several of the kids shouted, "Dana's a wild animal! He's a stinking old wild animal!"
Dana was sobbing. He gasped, "I have to get my coat. They won't give me my coat."
"Give him his coat!" said the teacher angrily. The boy who had the coat held it out, but when Dana went to take it the boy dropped it on the sidewalk. All the kids laughed. Without saying anything, Dana picked up the coat, brushed it off, and put it on.
The school bell rang for the first period, but instead of going directly to class Dana went to the boys' room. He washed his face and tried to wash his handkerchief, but he couldn't get it very clean. He jammed the wet mass in his trouser pocket and went to class.
At recess Dana saw Bud whispering with some of his friends. The boys called themselves the Green Street Counts, and were supposed to be very tough. Every now and then one of them would look at Dana and then quickly look away again when he saw Dana watching him. Dana knew that when he left school they would be waiting for him at the door, so when the last bell rang he ran down to the locker room as though he were going to put his books away. Instead, he kept on going through a side door and out into the street. Still keeping an eye out for the Counts, he ran until he reached the beginning of the block where he lived.
The houses here had once been fine residences, brownstone buildings with white marble steps. While most of this section of the city had become slums in the last few years, a few old families still lived on the block and tried to keep it clean and pleasant. Long ago, trees had been planted every few yards, which made the street shady and cool in summer. But because boys had come in at night and girdled the trunks with knives, most of the trees were dead now. Boys had also chipped at the marble steps and written over the houses with chalk. When the owners washed the chalk off, the boys scratched words on the stone with knives. The Counts boasted that it was they who had killed several of the trees and torn loose some of the old wrought-iron railings around the steps. But if they had, they'd done it all at night, and never dared to appear on the block by day.
Dana was so pleased at the way he'd outwitted the Counts that he forgot about the marks on his face until he got home. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk and something to eat. Mrs. Martin was cooking dinner, and without turning around she said, "Hello, son. Anything happen at school today?"
"No, nothing," said Dana. He went to the refrigerator and got out a bottle of milk.
While he was pouring a glassful, his mother turned around. She gave a gasp. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing," said Dana. "May I have a cookie?"
His mother walked over and examined him. "Were you in a fight?" she asked quietly.
"Not much of one," Dana told her. "I'm all right."
"Your face isn't. Come upstairs and I'll put some iodine on those cuts."
"I can do it myself," said Dana. He drank the milk quickly and then went upstairs to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out the iodine bottle and painted the places where Bud's knuckles had cut him. When he went downstairs again, his mother was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her arms. He saw that she was crying.
"Mother, I'm all right. Really I am. And I hurt him too."
"I'm glad you did," said his mother. Dana was astonished to hear her speak so vehemently. "I hope you hurt him badly. I'm glad we're getting out of this terrible place. It used to be such a nice neighborhood before these awful new people moved in."
For nearly a year the family had been trying to find a house in the country, but Dana's father didn't have much money and all the new houses were expensive. Dana said, "I wish Dad could find a place. When I go back to school I know the Counts will be waiting for me. I could fight them one at a time, but there are so many of them."
"Anyhow, school's over for this term," said his mother with relief. "This summer we'll find a place in the country. We'll just have to."
Because it wasn't a school night, Dana was allowed to watch television. His father usually got home at five-thirty, but it was nearly eight before Dana heard his key in the door. Dana heard his parents talking together in low tones, and then his father came in. Mr. Martin was a big man and had been a Marine in the war. He had won some medals, and was never afraid of anything.
"Well, son, what, happened to you?" his father asked cheerfully. "You look as though you'd had a fight with a buzzsaw. You're entitled to a Purple Heart with two oak-leaf clusters for that."
"I was in a fight," said Dana, pretending to watch television.
His father sat down on the couch beside him. "Tell me about it."
Dana told him about the fight and how he'd run out the side door of the school to get away from the Counts. His parents listened without saying anything. Then his father said, "Well, I think we may have found the place we're looking for. The real estate agent took me out to an old estate that's being broken up. We can buy the kennels if we want to."
"The kennels!" cried Dana's mother. "You mean we're going to live where they kept the dogs?"
"Now, wait a minute. It's really the house where the huntsman lived. You see, Dana, the people who lived on this estate were very rich and they had a pack of foxhounds. Foxhounds are a special sort of dog bred for fox hunting. There were so many hounds that they needed a man who did nothing else but look after them. He lived in the top part of this house, and the hounds lived down below. You can still see the outside runs where they kept them and the hatches inside where they used to sleep at night." Dana's mother began asking all sorts of questions about how many bedrooms there were and if there was a kitchen, but Dana didn't care about any of these things. He asked, "What happened to all their dogs?"
"The people who own the estate couldn't afford to keep them, so they were sold. That's why we can buy the house."
"Are there any foxes?"
"Probably lots of them in the woods, and plenty of other animals. When the real estate agent drove me out there, we saw two deer, and coming back in the evening we saw a big skunk walk across the road."
"A skunk!" said Dana wrinkling up his nose. "I hate skunks. They stink."
"Have you ever seen a skunk?" asked his father.
"No, and I don't want to."
"Don't worry about the skunks," said his mother. "Are there any closets?" Dana stopped listening. He was all ready to move right away. It sounded to him like a wonderful place, even if there were skunks. Maybe his father would let him have a gun, and he could shoot them.
