Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 1
Avoicecriedfaroutontheplayground:
—Allin!
Thenothervoicescriedfromthelowerandthirdlines:
—Allin!Allin!
Theplayersclosedaround,flushedandmuddy,andhewentamongthem,gladtogoin.RodyKickhamheldtheballbyitsgreasylace.Afellowaskedhimtogiveitonelast:buthewalkedonwithoutevenansweringthefellow.SimonMoonantoldhimnottobecausetheprefectwaslooking.ThefellowturnedtoSimonMoonanandsaid:
—Weallknowwhyyouspeak.YouareMcGlade’ssuck.
Suckwasaqueerword.ThefellowcalledSimonMoonanthatnamebecauseSimonMoonanusedtotietheprefect’sfalsesleevesbehindhisbackandtheprefectusedtoletontobeangry.Butthesoundwasugly.OncehehadwashedhishandsinthelavatoryoftheWicklowHotelandhisfatherpulledthestopperupbythechainafterandthedirtywaterwentdownthroughtheholeinthebasin.Andwhenithadallgonedownslowlytheholeinthebasinhadmadeasoundlikethat:suck.Onlylouder.
Torememberthatandthewhitelookofthelavatorymadehimfeelcoldandthenhot.Thereweretwococksthatyouturnedandwatercameout:coldandhot.Hefeltcoldandthenalittlehot:andhecouldseethenamesprintedonthecocks.Thatwasaveryqueerthing.
Andtheairinthecorridorchilledhimtoo.Itwasqueerandwettish.
