Page 62-64
4. Story
Page 62
Bradley walked slowly,
holding his hand
over his eye
so nobody
would see it.
His mother
would have
let him stay home
from school,
but his father said
he had to go.
“He’s scared,”
his mother had said.
“Some bullies
have been
terrorizing him.”
“Babying him
will not solve
the problem,”
said his father.
“He has to learn
to stand up
for himself
and fight back.
The only reason
the bullies
pick on him
is because
they know
he’s afraid.”
Bradley was afraid,
but not of bullies.
He wasn’t scared
of Melinda, either.
It was
little Lori Westin
who scared him.
He could picture her
standing in the middle
of the playground
with her big mouth
shouting
for the whole school
to hear:
“Melinda Birch
beat up
Bradley Chalkers
and made him cry!”
Cautiously,
he walked
across the schoolyard,
hand over eye,
and entered
Mrs. Ebbel’s class.
He sat down
in the last seat
of the last row.
Jeff’s chair
was empty.
Good, he thought,
still covering his eye.
He probably
got kicked out of school.
Out of his
uncovered eye,
he looked at
the chart full
of gold stars
on the wall
next to him.
He was glad
he didn’t have any.
He thought gold stars
were ugly.
Mrs. Ebbel
was in the middle
of teaching
the difference
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between adjectives and adverbs
when she suddenly stopped
and asked,
“Bradley,
is there something
the matter
with your eye?”
“No.”
“Then please
take your hand
away from it.”
“I can’t,”
he said.
“Why can’t you?”
He quickly tried
to think of a reason
why he had to
keep his eye covered.
His mind
raced through
a hundred ideas.
“My hand’s stuck,”
he said.
“It’s stuck?”
asked Mrs. Ebbel.
“I was gluing something
and got glue
on my hand,
and then
I accidentally
touched my face
with my hand
and it got stuck.”
“Bradley,
take your hand
away from your eye.”
He grabbed his wrist
with his free hand
and pretended
to try to
pull it away.
“I can’t.
It’s stuck.”
“Do you want
to go to
the principal’s office?”
she asked.
“He’s good
at unsticking things.”
“Wait,
I think it’s starting
to loosen now,”
he said.
He pried
his hand away.
There was
a bluish-black circle
around his eye.
For a few seconds
nobody said anything,
then everybody
started talking at once.
“What happened?”
asked Mrs. Ebbel,
but then quickly said,
“Never mind,
I don’t want to know.”
She told the class
to turn around,
and started again
on adverbs and adjectives.
Jeff walked in late.
He said something
to Mrs. Ebbel,
then sat down
next to Bradley.
Bradley looked
the other way,
at the chart full of
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gold stars.
Of all the stars,
Jeff’s were the ugliest.
For once,
he wished
he sat in the front
of the room.
Then
only Mrs. Ebbel
would have been able
to see his face.
Where he was,
everyone could turn around
and stare at him.
All morning,
Mrs. Ebbel had to
keep telling kids
to turn around
and face front.
When the bell rang
for recess,
he put his hand
over his eye
and hurried outside.
He went to
the far end
of the playground
where nobody
would bother him.
But the word
quickly spread
that Bradley Chalkers
had a black eye
and kids
kept wandering past him
trying to
get a peek.
“Melinda fights dirty,”
said Jeff,
coming up
behind him.
“She hit you
when you weren’t looking.
And you couldn’t
hit her back
because it’s impolite
to hit a girl.”
“Right!”
said Bradley,
turning around.
“I would have
punched her face in,
except it’s impolite.
Melinda probably
told the whole school
that she beat me up,
she’s so stupid.”
“No, I don’t think
she told anybody.
After you left,
she asked me
not to tell anyone
what happened.
She made Lori
and Colleen promise
not to tell too.”
“She’s probably afraid
I’ll punch her face in,”
said Bradley.
“Probably,”
said Jeff.
“Then,
this morning
I was called into
the principal’s office.
He thought
I was the one
who hit you.”
“Wha’d (What did)
you tell him?”
Bradley asked.
Jeff shrugged.
“I told him
you’re my best friend.”
“The principal’s stupid,”
Bradley agreed.