Yossi's Goal by Ellen Schwartz Page A

Jean-Paul yelled.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Yossi said.
    â€œ
Ils nous ont volé notre glace!
” Jean-Paul said, then went flying as the big boy, back on his feet, hit him with his shoulder.
    â€œStole your ice!” Yossi repeated. “Oof!” He landed on his bottom, hard, as the same boy gave him a mighty shove.
    â€œTake that, you!” the big boy said in Yiddish.
    Yiddish! These boys were Jewish? Yossi scrambled to his feet—and recognized Max Steiner’s cronies who’d laughed at him that day outside the synagogue.
    Yossi started searching for Max in the crush of bodies, sure that the boss’s son was behind this. Yes! There he was, in his once-again-spotless black coat. Sliding across the ice, windmilling his arms, Yossi threw himself against Max.
    â€œYou rat!” he yelled in Yiddish. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    Max whirled around on his skates. Therewas a moment of astonishment. Then he leered. “You!” He pushed Yossi down.
    Yossi sprang back up. “Thief! You can’t take their ice!” He swung at Max.
    Max laughed, skating out of the way. “Oh, yeah? We just did. It’s ours now.”
    â€œWell, you’re going to have to get past me!” Yossi shouted as he charged. But Max darted aside, and with a few swift steps he plowed into Yossi, knocking him down again.
    Yossi climbed to his feet and kept fighting. But even though he swung wildly, he took a flurry of punches and knew that he was getting the worst of it. What’s more, he knew that his friends were too. In a quick scan of the ice, Yossi saw Jacques get socked in the stomach, while René, his nose bleeding and his cheek scratched, sprawled face-down as a boy the size of a man pushed him from behind.
    Amid the yelling and grunting, Yossi heard a shrill whistle that he recognized as René’s. “
On s’en va, les gars!
”
    Yossi joined the French boys at the edge of the ice, expecting René to rally the boys to drive the intruders away. But instead René picked up his skates and stick. “
Allons-y, les gars. On s’en va
.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, let’s go?” Yossi said, grabbing his sleeve. “Aren’t you going to chase them away? This is your ice!”
    â€œWhat do you think we’ve been trying to do?” René said angrily. “You saw how it was. They’re too much for us.”
    â€œBut you can’t just let them—”
    â€œWe can’t beat them. There’s too many and they’re too big and strong.”
    â€œThen I’ll get my pals!” Yossi cried. But even as he said it, he knew it was no use. Even with Abie and Benny and Louie and Milton, they wouldn’t be able to fight off these older stronger boys.
    Fuming, Yossi stood there with the others and watched as Max and his friends skated triumphantly around the rink, hooting and crowing, slapping each other on the back.
    René and the others started walkingaway, but Yossi waited for Max to skate by. “You’re nothing but a dirty rotten
gonef
, Steiner.”
    Max’s face darkened. “Who are you calling a thief, you stinking
griner
? You peasant!” He drew closer. “I know it was you who threw the eggs, and I know your Frenchie pals hid you that day. You think you’re so smart. Well, how smart do you feel right now, huh?”
    â€œSmart enough to get you back for this!”
    â€œOh, yeah? You, the big strong
shlepper
of bundles?” With a laugh, Max skated away.
    Yossi grabbed his bundle and caught up with René and the boys. “Now what?”
    â€œNow we find another spot,” René answered, “and build a rink from scratch.”
    The boys wandered up one street and down another, searching for a good spot. One alley with a promising dip in the middle had too much horse and wagon traffic. There was a ditch in an out-of-the-waylane, but it was too narrow.