Aaron's Angels

Aaron had heard that Chicago was called the Windy City, and today’s weather brought new meaning to the word cold. The biting chill stung him to the bone, and Aaron was determined to get to a warm place as soon as possible. He slipped down an alleyway, a shortcut to his training, and a place to thaw out—the local Jewish temple. Aaron generally avoided dark alleys. As he had learned long ago, being confined in a narrow passageway was not smart. One of the reasons his father had moved him and his mother to Chicago was because some of his anti-Semitic classmates in New York City liked to use him as a punching bag. His father wanted him to be safe and to enter high school with a fresh start.

Aaron was of slight build and stood five-foot-five. Dark brown hair capped his dome and covered much of his high forehead. His facial features were pleasant—eyes that expressed intelligence and a face accentuated with a great smile. He had inherited his dad’s hooked nose, which bothered him at times. He was well spoken and had an outgoing personality.

As he proceeded down the alley, he was thinking about the two classmates that sat behind him in math class that morning and how they’d offered him money to lean to the left or right during the upcoming geometry test. Aaron was proud that he was skilled at math, especially since he was a freshman and had been allowed to skip the first two years of algebra. But the pride he felt changed to shame as he realized that he was being dishonest in helping them, so he tried to justify his behavior.

Aaron walked at a brisk pace as he thought about it. I’m no cheater, but what could I do? They’re a lot bigger than me and could beat me to a pulp if I challenge them. I can’t control what they do if I happen to lean one way or the other. Maybe I can make some new friends if I offer them free tutoring classes. I can’t help it if God graced me with common sense and an excellent brain. I like helping people, and they just may accept me. Aaron tried desperately to convince himself that he was not corrupt.

“Oh, crud, I’d better get to studying, or Rabbi Cohen will kill me,” he said out loud to no one in particular as he strode through the alley.

Aaron pulled his yarmulke out of his back pocket and pinned it to the crown of his head. He began to think of the verses he had to memorize from the Torah. He’d had his bar mitzvah eight months earlier, and being introduced into adulthood had been electrifying. Being a rabbi like his father didn’t interest him, but he also had no intention of bringing the wrath of his papa down on his head either. His dad insisted that he needed to have a good command of the Holy Book.

It is what it is. Besides, Cohen will be angry if I’m not ready today, Aaron thought with a sense of urgency. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his memory verses. As he held them up, he turned and saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was Billy Lasco, the meanest bully in school, and he was entering the alley behind him. Aaron put the memory cards back into his pocket and started walking faster, but he didn’t dare run. He recalled that in his outdoor nature class, the teacher had said, “A certain way to get a bear or lion to attack is to run.”

†

That morning breakfast had been a glass of milk and a piece of toast. Billy’s dad fixed eggs some mornings, but this morning hadn’t been one of them. His dad was still passed out on the couch from last night’s binge on dope and good whiskey, so Billy’s mood was set for the day. Just as Avarice had planned.