A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) Read Online Free Page A

“The neighbourhood is new, but the people are the same.”
    I didn’t know what he meant. He fastened the rope around his middle and picked me up under one arm and the dog under the other. The rope tightened and we began to move up the side of the pit.
    “You’re not mad, are you, Papa?”
    “No, Danny, I’m not mad.”
    I was silent a moment as we inched further up the side. “Then is it okay if I keep the dog, Papa?” I asked. “He’s such a nice little dog.” The dog must have known I was talking about him; his tail thumped against my father’s side. “We’ll call him Rexie Fisher,” I added.
    Papa looked down at the little pup and then at me. He began to laugh. “You mean you’ll call her Rexie Fisher. It isn’t a him, it’s a her.”

    The room was dark, but I was warm and cosy from my bath as I lay in my bed. There were new sounds in the night, new sounds coming in the window from a new neighbourhood. New sounds to live with.
    My eyes were wide with the wonder of them, but I wasn’t afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. I was in my own house, in my own room. Suddenly my eyes began to close. I half turned in my bed, and my hand brushed against the wall. It was rough from the freshly stippled paint.
    “I love you, house,” I murmured, already half asleep.
    Under my bed the dog moved, and I put my hand down alongside it. I felt her cold nose in the palm of my hand. My fingers scratched the top of her head. Her fur was damp and cool to my touch. Mamma had made Papa give Rexie a bath before she would let me take her up to my room. Her tongue was licking my fingers. “I love you too, Rexie,” I whispered.
    A sense of warmth and comfort and belonging began to steal through me. Slowly I could feel the last trace of tautness slip from my body, and the nothing that is sleep came over me.
    I was home. And the first day of my life that I remembered faded into yesterday, and all the days of my life became tomorrow.

BOOK ONE

All the Days of My Life

Chapter One
    T HE sun pressed warmly against my closed lids. Vaguely annoyed, I threw an arm over my eyes and moved restlessly on the pillow. For a few minutes I was comfortable; then the light seemed to creep under my arm and search me out. I stopped trying to hide from it and sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. I was awake.
    I stretched. I yawned. I pushed my hair back from my eyes and looked sleepily toward the window. It was a bright, clear morning. I wished I could have gone on sleeping, but my windows faced east and the first morning sun always hit me in the face.
    I looked lazily around the room. My clothes lay rumpled on a chair. The half-strung tennis racket I never got around to fix was leaning against the side of the dresser. The old alarm clock on the dresser next to my comb and brush showed it was a quarter-past seven. My purple-and-white Erasmus Hall High School pennant hung drooping across the mirror.
    I looked down at the side of the bed for my slippers. They weren’t there. I grinned to myself. I knew where they were. Rexie usually pulled them under the bed and made a pillow out of them for her head. I reached down and gave her a scratch. She lifted her head and lazily wagged her tail. I gave her another scratch and took the slippers away from her. Then I got out of bed and stepped into them. Rexie had closed her eyes and gone back to sleep.
    I could hear a faint sound coming from my parents’ room as I walked over to the open window. That reminded me. Today was the big day: my Bar Mitzvah day. I began to feel an excited nervousness in me. I hoped I wouldn’t forget any of the elaborate Hebrew ritual I had specially learned for the occasion.
    I stood by the open window and breathed deeply. Slowly I counted to myself: “In—two—three—four; out—two—three—four.” After a few moments of this I began to feel the nervousness go away. I would be all right, I wouldn’t forget anything. Still facing the window, I pulled my pyjama top