A Boy's Pride

• Grace Banner, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2010

Aramus clenched his teeth and glared at the dirty floor. His mother sighed sorrowfully and picking up her youngest child, walked out the door. As soon as she was gone Aramus crossed the room to his desk and opened the lowest draw, taking out an object wrapped in old cloth. Immediately his heart began to throb almost painfully. This was the part he loved – the adrenalin. The danger of battle was so exciting. He hated deceiving his mother though, but he knew it was something he had to do, and this was all for her anyway. If he was successful he would bring her so much honour and pride. Even if he died he would still bring her honour.
Wrapped bundle in hand he climbed out of his window and began to walk calmly down the shabby street. His calm demeanor was only a well practiced act though; inside his blood was racing. He reached the end of the street and met Mallendo, his companion and friend. The two boys acknowledged each other with a nod and continued down another street without saying a word. To an outside eye the boys would have looked like any two boys; just walking down the street.
They reached a tall building on the edge of the town square. At the door stood two Israeli soldiers staring forebodingly around the square. Their eyes passed over the boys without lingering. Inside the building the boys knew Israeli soldiers were eating their lunch. On the other side of the square Aramus saw their group leader crouching by a wall. His pulse picked up a notch; it was about to begin.
Suddenly with a cry young boys jumped out from every street and alleyway. Shots rang through the air. Both of the Israeli guards went down within seconds. Aramus and Mallendo ducked inside the building; they were the first through the door. Without a second’s hesitation the boys began firing shots around the room. In the commotion and dust it was impossible to tell who was where anymore. Aramus sensed people coming through the door behind him. At the same time more shots came at him from inside the room. The Israelis had found their guns. The dust was now so thick it was impossible to see anything. Aramus felt Mallendo crumple by his side. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in his leg and another in his chest and he too fell to the floor. Above him chaos reigned. Bullets flew in every direction, and cries of anger, shock and pain filled the air.
Then as quickly as it had started, the chaos stopped. Someone knelt over Aramus’s body. It was his leader. As his leader knelt there an unspoken understanding went between them. This was the end. Aramus’s leader spoke only a few words before disappearing with the rest of the Arab boys. These were lost to Aramus, but one thing became clear in his mind; he was dying on his 13th birthday.