Page 99-106
Story
Page 99
“We’ll get you
at lunch, Chalkers,”
Robbie whispered
as Bradley
returned to class.
“You’re late,”
said Mrs. Ebbel.
He sat at his desk –
last seat, last row –
and looked at the chart
on the wall next to him.
Of course
there was no gold star
next to his name.
He had
already done
three things wrong:
First, he had
knocked over
a girl
and made her cry.
Second,
he was late
getting back
to class.
And third
and worst of all,
his name
was Bradley Chalkers.
As long as
his name
was Bradley Chalkers,
he’d never get
a gold star.
They don’t give
gold stars
to monsters.
They beat up monsters.
He looked around
at Jeff, Robbie,
Russell, and Brian.
He had to
concentrate very hard
to keep from crying.
The worst part
wasn’t getting
beaten up.
The worst part
was that he knew
everyone would
love it so much.
He imagined
the whole school –
the boys,
the girls,
and even the teachers –
standing by
and cheering
as Jeff’s gang
took turns hitting
and kicking him.
When the bell rang
for lunch,
he slowly took
his paper sack
out of his desk.
“We’ll be waiting
for you outside,”
Jeff said to him.
Bradley watched him
walk out the door.
Page 100
He walked slowly
toward the front
of the room,
then suddenly
dashed out
the other door
and into the hall.
“Bradley!
Come back here!”
Mrs. Ebbel yelled.
He kept running.
So what
if he got in trouble?
What difference
did it make?
He pulled on the door
to the library.
It wouldn’t budge.
The library was closed
during lunch.
He tried to think
of somewhere else
he’d be safe.
“There he is!”
said Doug,
stepping out of
the auditorium.
Bradley turned
and ran back
the way
he had come.
He rounded a corner,
then stopped
and made a quick
and desperate decision.
He opened the door
to the girls’ bathroom,
closed his eyes,
and stepped inside.
He opened his eyes.
Luckily,
the room was empty.
He held his breath
and listened.
Nothing could be worse
than being beaten up
inside a girls’ bathroom.
They’d probably
stick my head
in a girls’ toilet,
he thought.
He waited.
He didn’t hear anything.
He looked around.
The floor
and the bottom half
of the walls
were covered
with green tile.
There were
two white sinks
and a paper towel
dispenser.
There were three toilets
in three separate stalls.
Each stall
had a door.
It looked very much
like the boys’ bathroom.
Girl toilets
appeared to be
the same as
boy toilets.
He was
disappointed.
He couldn’t risk
going back out
into the hall.
He leaned against
one of the stalls,
reached into
his brown paper sack,
Page 101
and took out
his roast beef
sandwich.
Someone
was opening
the door!
He quickly
put the sandwich
back in the bag
and hopped
into a stall,
closing the door
behind him.
He stood on
the toilet
so his feet
couldn’t
be seen.
He listened.
He heard a person
walk across
the tiled floor
and then enter
the stall
next to him.
He covered his mouth
with his hand
as he heard
some familiar
but very private
sounds.
At last
the toilet flushed
and he heard
the person
zip her pants
and walk across
to the sink.
He heard the sound
of running water,
and then a paper towel
pulled down from
the dispenser.
Finally,
the bathroom door
opened and shut.
He exhaled,
hopped off the toilet,
stepped out of the stall,
and froze.
Two girls
were staring at him.
One was the girl
who had used
the toilet
next to him.
The other
had just entered.
He wondered
which was which.
Then he heard
the loudest scream
he’d ever heard
in his whole life.
That answered
his question.
He darted past them,
opened the door,
and flew into
the hall.
He rounded
a corner,
came to a door,
and pounded wildly
on it
until it opened.
“Bradley?”
said Carla.
“Hello, Carla.”
He held out his hand.
“It’s a pleasure
to see you today.”
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Chapter 27
She shook his hand.
He walked inside,
shut the door
behind him,
and sat down
around the table.
“You won’t
believe it,”
he said
as he looked at
his picture
of the green monster
hanging on the wall.
“You just won’t
believe it.”
“I’m sure I won’t,”
Carla agreed.
She sat
across from him.
She was wearing
a sleeveless,
black-and-white
checkered shirt.
“Okay,
I’ll tell you,”
said Bradley.
“I was hoping
you would.”
“Do you know
where I was
before I was here?”
“No?”
He slammed his fist
on the table.
“The girls’ bathroom!”
He told her
all about it,
how the girl
had used the toilet
next to him
and how he thought
she had left
but really
another girl
had entered!
“At first
I didn’t know
which girl was which,
but then
one of them screamed,
so she must have been
the one.”
“Who was she?”
asked Carla.
“Did you know her?”
“Yes, but I don’t think
I should tell you
her name.
She probably
doesn’t want
anybody else
to know.”
“That’s very
considerate of you,
Bradley.”
He shrugged.
“Shall we have lunch?”
asked Carla.
Page 103
“Okay.”
He took out
his roast beef sandwich.
Carla set her lunch
on the table.
She had
a carton of yogurt
and a plate
of sliced tomatoes
and cucumbers.
“That looks good,”
said Bradley.
“You want to trade?”
“Okay.”
They traded lunches.
Bradley ate
a slice of cucumber.
He thought
it was delicious.
“So what
were you doing
inside the girls’
bathroom?”
asked Carla.
She took
a big bite
out of Bradley’s
roast beef sandwich.
“Jeff and his friends
were chasing me,”
he explained.
“Jeff’s got
a black eye,
just like me!
They all think
I gave it to him.”
“Did you?”
He could have lied.
He could have said,
sure, he beat up Jeff
with one hand
tied behind his back.
He knew Carla
always believed
whatever he said.
“No.
I can’t even
beat up a girl,”
he said.
“Melinda Birch
beat me up.
Do you know her?”
“No.”
“You’d like her.
She’s nice.”
Carla smiled.
(beautiful and surprising)
Bradley ate
a slice of tomato
followed by
a spoonful of yogurt.
“I hid in the library
at recess,”
he said.
“They couldn’t
beat me up
in the library,
even if
they found me.
You can’t even talk
in the library.”
“Yes, I know.”
Isn’t it amazing?”
“What’s that?”
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“The library.
All those books.
And they’re all different,
aren’t they?”
Carla nodded
as she drank
Bradley’s juice
through a straw.
“I kept thinking
about that
the whole time
I was there,”
he said.
“They’re all different,
but they all use
practically the same
words.
They just put them
in a different order.”
“Did you – ?”
“Just twenty-six letters,”
he told her.
“All they do
is move those letters around
and then they say
so many different things!”
“Did you – ?”
“You’d think,
after a while,
they’d run out of ways
to move them around,”
said Bradley.
“Did you check out
a book?”
“No, Mrs. Wilcott
won’t let me.
I used to,
a long time ago,
before I met you,
I used to
check out books
and not return them.
I used to scribble
in them
and rip them up.
So she won’t let me
check any books out
anymore.
The whole time
I was there
she kept watching me,
saying,
‘I don’t want
any trouble
from you,
Bradley.’ “
He ate
another slice
of cucumber.
“I just wanted
to look at
a book.
I wasn’t
going to ruin it.”
“I know,”
said Carla.
“And after a while,
Mrs. Wilcott
will know that too.”
“I’m trying
to be good,”
said Bradley.
“But nobody
will give me a chance.”
“They will.
It just takes time.”
Page 105
“Do you
ever play checkers
on your shirt?”
he asked.
Carla nearly spit out
her juice.
She laughed
and shook her head.
“I like your shirts,”
he said.
“I like your socks,”
said Carla.
Bradley looked at
his mismatched socks.
“I thought
I changed them,”
he said,
befuddled.
“I hate socks
that match,”
said Carla.
“See.”
She stuck out
her legs.
She was wearing
white pants.
She had on
one white sock
and one black sock.
Bradley smiled.
It wasn’t his usual
twisted smile,
but one
that was genuine.
It was one that,
up till now,
had been seen only
by Ronnie
and Bartholomew.
“I know something good
you can do,”
said Carla.
“And Mrs. Ebbel
will notice it too.”
“What?”
“Homework.”
The smile
dropped off his face.
“No.
No I can’t,”
he said.
“Sure you can,”
said Carla.
“I can’t!”
His eyes filled
with tears.
“You can do anything
you want to do,
Bradley Chalkers.
I have
a lot of confidence
in you.”
He shook his head.
“But I can’t.”
His voice cracked.
“Don’t say ‘I can’t.’
As long as you say
you can’t do something,
then of course
you won’t do it.
Say, ‘I can!’
Say ‘I can!’
and you
can do anything.”
“I can’t!
I can’t!”
He was crying.
“Bradley,
it’s not that difficult.
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You’re making
a big deal
out of nothing.
If you want,
I will help you.”
“I can’t,”
he sobbed.
“Why can’t you?”
she demanded.
He wiped his eyes
with his sleeve
and sniffled.
He looked Carla
straight in the eye
and said,
“I don’t know
what page we’re on!”
“Oh, Bradley,”
Carla whispered.
Her eyes glistened.
She stood up,
walked around the table,
and kissed him
on the cheek.
The End
ThEnd