Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

“Beauty will provide juice,” Wolf translated. “And Siamese will bring it over. To revive your stamina. The juice of four apples.”

Beauty beamed. Stinker patted his arm.

“Thank you. Your valuable contribution to the just cause shall not be forgotten. I’ll give you a lemon to make the contribution even more valuable.”

Magician, Stinker, and Humpback took the slogans and left. Siamese went looking for something they could rattle. Beauty bustled around the juice maker. Elephant brought him one more apple. Wolf lay on the floor and closed his eyes.

Grasshopper sat on his bed. He was dying to find out what Stinker was going to do, but was self-conscious about it. It was going to be something noisy and shameful, and the entire House was going to come gawk at it. Siamese dug out the salad bowl, the bear trap, and the ladle, and then set to picking up the scraps of paper off the floor and closing the paint cans, gingerly stepping around Wolf.

“Fourteen packages,” they whispered to each other, licking their lips.

Beauty reverently operated the juice maker. Elephant held the pan under the spout, watching it fill up with the transparent yellowish juice.

Then they too headed off. Elephant carried the bottle of juice. Beauty carried nothing. Siamese carried the things they were going to rattle. Beauty fretted. He could only manage to make it through the door on the third try, and for that Siamese had to wedge him between themselves and march him out like a prisoner between two guards.

Wolf lay on the floor. Blind lay on his bed.

Blind can hear everything anyway, Grasshopper thought. He doesn't need to go. He's both here and there at the same time.

Grasshopper slid down from the bed and sat on the floor.

“Ancient's leaving,” he said. “Forever. He's not going to be in the House anymore. He's afraid of something. Something that's going to happen in the summer before the seniors have to leave.”

Wolf opened his eyes.

“How do you know? You mean you talked to him?”

Grasshopper nodded.

“He remembers the last graduation. He says there's nothing worse than the last year.”

“That's true,” Wolf said, propping himself up. “I'm only curious why he would talk to you about things like that. Or did you... overhear what he was saying?”

“No. He told me himself. Only me, no one else.”

Wolf lay back down.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he muttered.

Blind stirred on his bed. When he rose, he had a dusty plastic bag in his hands. He traipsed over to Grasshopper, dropped the bag in his lap, and went back. Grasshopper stared at Blind's present in surprise.

Wolf turned over, grabbed the bag, and peeked inside.

“I think this is what you wanted,” he said and shook out some cassette tapes on the floor. Old and battered, some without the inserts, flashing the scratched labels.

“That's your Zeppelins,” Blind grumbled. “The ones making you go crazy in the head. He told me that these are it exactly. The one who gave them to me.”

“Thanks,” Grasshopper whispered. “Thanks, Blind. Where did you get them?”

“It was a gift,” Blind replied curtly. “From someone who couldn't say no.”

It was obvious that this wasn't Elk he was talking about.

“doesn't matter. Just enjoy.”

“One more blackmailer,” Wolf remarked thoughtfully. “Rather a lot of you guys for one dorm.”

It was Skull who gave it to him, Grasshopper thought. Blind is carrying his letters. So Skull is the one who couldn't say no.

Blind lay there with his hands hidden under his armpits. His black hair shined, obscuring his face.

“Who was it that couldn't refuse you, I wonder,” Wolf said probingly.

Blind didn't answer.

Wolf turned to Grasshopper.

“He never answers. Almost never. Then he says something and goes silent again. Just once I'd like to hear the rest of the story, find out if it actually happened.”

Grasshopper shook his head.

“What is it you'd like to hear?”

“A complete sentence. So I could understand what he was saying. I don't mean now in particular. I mean usually.”

Grasshopper looked at Blind.

“I can always understand what he's saying. Even when he's not saying anything at all.”

Wolf's orange eyes glanced in the direction of Blind.

“You, maybe. But I don't.”

“Well, I don't understand anything when you're silent,” Grasshopper admitted. “And sometimes even when you're speaking.”

“How about enough?” Blind said. “Another round of this, and you'd both stop understanding anything.”

“What do you hear?” Grasshopper asked.

“Stuffagers are all there, and a lot of seniors. It's Siamese's turn now. They're howling and banging.”

Grasshopper gingerly picked up the tapes and put them back in the bag. There were five, and only two had cases.

“But how am I supposed to listen to them?” he said sadly. “We don't have anything for that.”

“There are fourteen packages being rescued as we speak,” Wolf reminded him. “If I know anything about Stinker, at least one of them is going to contain something that would play your Zeppelins.”

Grasshopper was suddenly restless.

“Should I maybe go and shout too?”

“There's enough shouting as it is,” Blind said. “I’m surprised the principal is still holding.”

“We’ll go in half an hour,” Wolf said. “Fresh reinforcements. It would be more useful that way.”

Grasshopper peeked into the bag to count the tapes again. There were still five of them. No more, no less.

“Was there anything else Ancient told you?” Wolf said smoothly.

Grasshopper looked at him in surprise.

“That he was leaving. That it smells bad here. And it's going to get worse. I mean, not in those exact words. About the seniors, in short.”

“Our dear morons,” Wolf said. “I see.”

Grasshopper frowned.

“Why are you calling them that?”

“Because it's the truth.”

“Is Skull a moron too?” Grasshopper said indignantly.

“He more than others.”

“Then give me the rest of the sentence. Like you demanded from Blind. So that even I understand. Why are they morons? And then about Skull. Separately.”

“No problem,” Wolf said, looking at Blind. “There's one House. It needs to have one master. One leader for all.”

That's what Ancient said, Grasshopper thought. Or something like that.

“But that's why the two of them fight. They want to be the one you're talking about,” he said.

“They've been fighting for a long time. Too long. Might as well quit. It's ridiculous,” Wolf said, shaking his head. “If in all that time they didn't manage to prove they could rise above everyone else's wants and not-wants, then neither of them is worth anything.”

“Skull could rise!”

Wolf smiled. He was still looking at Blind. Blind wasn't stirring. He could be listening to Wolf, or to Stinker, far away.

“Strange thoughts you have,” Grasshopper said.

“They're not strange. They're obvious,” Wolf said. “Child's play. You need to build up on them. Like floors in a building—one, two, three, ten... Then they might start looking wise and deep. But until that time, seniors are seniors. And all we can do is bask in their smoke and die from envy listening to their records. Like this one guy I know.”

“I wasn't dying from envy,” Grasshopper protested.

“I was,” Wolf admitted.

“Still,” Grasshopper said stubbornly, “Skull is not a moron. And Ancient isn’t. You're just jealous.”

“Can't you hear it?” Blind said suddenly.

This time they did—the faraway voices and shouts. Grasshopper took another peek in the bag with the tapes and then looked at Wolf.