A Matter of Conviction

(They start around the edge of the pool toward the other side, where the Horsemen are emerging from the water. As they walk, we notice other boys watching them, and then getting to their feet to join them, so that the long march around the edge of the gleaming blue pool becomes a sort of recruiting march, as if the bugle has been sounded for formation of ranks and the Thunderbirds are massing. It is a terrible thing to watch them, because there is the silence of a vigilante committee about them, the menacing deadly purposefulness of a lynch mob. Tower, Batman, and Danny are in the front rank. As they walk, the other boys fall in behind them, not in strict formation, but nonetheless presenting the formidable appearance of an army on the move. The lifeguard on his high chair looks over to the boys. He is not a cop, and he doesn’t feel like getting involved with a bunch of hoods. He stays where he is, studying the water for drowning people, of whom there are none at the moment. The hum over the pool begins to subside, and then it is gone altogether. Barefoot, bare-chested, the Thunderbirds — at least a dozen of them now — cross the pool area. Trouble is in the air. The silence of trouble is a louder noise than the gay hum of voices which preceded it. Five of the Puerto Rican boys have gone over to the fountain on that side of the pool. Only one — Alfredo — remains by the edge of the pool, his feet dangling in the water. He does not see the Thunderbirds until they are almost upon him. He scrambles to his feet and looks frantically for the other members of his party, but he is surrounded before he establishes contact. The boys ring him in, and he faces them with his back to the pool.)

TOWER: What are you? A little girl?

ALFREDO: A gorl? What you minn?

TOWER: You’re wearing a necklace. I thought only girls wore necklaces.

ALFREDO: A neck— (His hand goes up to the chain and cross. He is trying to see past the boys to where his friends are, but the circle is tight and unbending.) Tha’s no necklace. Tha’s Jesús Cristo. Don’ you got no religion?

TOWER: Oh, you got religion, huh? He’s got religion, boys.

ALFREDO: Come on, wha’ you wann here, anyway?

TOWER: We want to see how religious you are, spic.

ALFREDO: Hey, don’ call me—

TOWER: We want to see if you can walk on the water, spic.

ALFREDO: Walk on dee—

(Batman shoves out at him, and Alfredo hurtles backward into the water. The Thunderbirds are in the pool almost instantly, splashing wildly as Alfredo surfaces. Alfredo is frightened now. He is surrounded by a dozen boys, and his feet are not on the ground. He has never been a good swimmer; he came here today only to be one of the boys. Now the boys have deserted him and...)

TOWER: Get him! Get him!