The Schooldays of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee Read Free Book Online Page B

secondary. All else follows later.’
    At her touch Inés visibly stiffens. He knows only too well how Inés resists, indeed flinches from, the human touch.
    Señora Arroyo turns to the boy. ‘David—that is your name?’
    He expects the usual challenge, the usual denial ( ‘It is not my real name’ ). But no: the boy raises his face to her like a flower opening.
    â€˜Welcome, David, to our Academy. I am sure you will like it here. I am señora Arroyo and I will be looking after you. Now, you heard what I told your parents about the dancing slippers and about not wearing tight clothes?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Good. Then I will be expecting you on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp. That is when the new quarter starts. Come here. Feel the floor. It’s lovely, isn’t it? It was laid down especially for dancing, out of planks cut from cedar trees that grow high in the mountains, by carpenters, true craftsmen, who made it as smooth as is humanly possible. We wax it every week until it glows, and every day it is polished again by the students’ feet. So smooth and so warm! Can you feel the warmth?’
    The boy nods. Never has he seen him so responsive before—responsive, trusting, childlike.
    â€˜Goodbye now, David. We will see you on Monday, with your new slippers. Goodbye, señora. Goodbye, señor.’ The swing doors close behind them.
    â€˜She is tall, isn’t she, señora Arroyo,’ he says to the boy. ‘Tall and graceful too, like a real dancer. Do you like her?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜So is it decided then? You will go to her school?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And we can tell Roberta and the three sisters that our quest has been successful?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜What do you say, Inés: has our quest been successful?’
    â€˜I will tell you what I think when I have seen what kind of education they give.’
    Blocking their way to the street is a man with his back to them. He wears a rumpled grey uniform; his cap is pushed back on his head; he is smoking a cigarette.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ he, Simón, says.
    The man, evidently lost in reverie, gives a start, then recovers and with an extravagant sweep of the arm waves them through: ‘Señora y señores…’ Passing him they are enveloped in fumes of tobacco and the smell of unwashed clothes.
    In the street, as they hesitate, finding their bearings, the man in grey speaks: ‘Señor, are you looking for the museum?’
    He turns to face him. ‘No—our business was with the Academy of Dance.’
    â€˜Ah, the Academy of Ana Magdalena!’ His voice is deep, the voice of a true bass. Tossing his cigarette aside, he comes nearer. ‘So let me guess: you are going to enrol in the Academy, young man, and become a famous dancer! I hope you will find time one day to come and dance for me.’ He shows yellowed teeth in a big, all-enfolding smile. ‘Welcome! If you attend the Academy you are going to see a lot of me, so let me introduce myself. I am Dmitri. I work at the museum, where I am Principal Attendant—that is my title, such a grand one! What does a Principal Attendant do?Well, it is the Principal Attendant’s duty to guard the museum’s pictures and sculptures, to preserve them from dust and natural enemies, to lock them up safely in the evenings and set them free in the mornings. As Principal Attendant I am here every day except Saturdays, so naturally I get to meet all the young folk from the Academy, them and their parents.’ He turns to him, Simón. ‘What did you think of the estimable Ana Magdalena? Does she impress you?’
    He exchanges glances with Inés. ‘We spoke to señora Arroyo but nothing is decided yet,’ he says. ‘We have to weigh up our options.’
    Dmitri the liberator of the statues and paintings frowns. ‘No need for that. No need to weigh up