A Boy.
Page 31-33 Story
5. Story
Chapter 8
Page 31
Mrs. Ebbel was
teaching geography.
Everybody in the class
had a map
of the United States
on his or her desk.
Bradley’s map was different
from all the others.
California was above Wisconsin.
Florida stuck out of Texas.
He picked up
his pair of scissors
and carefully cut out Tennessee.
He was a good cutter.
The edge of his scissors
never left the black line.
He wondered
what was happening to Jeff.
He knew he was at
the counselor’s office.
He imagined
she was doing
all kinds of horrible things
to him.
He had tried to tell Jeff
at recess not to go see her.
He taped Tennessee to Washington.
He was a very messy taper.
His piece of tape
twisted and stuck to itself.
He looked up
as Jeff entered the room
and watched him
hang the hall pass
on the hook
behind Mrs. Ebbel’s desk.
Then he looked away
as Jeff headed for
the seat next to him.
When the bell rang for lunch,
he shoved his map
into his desk
and pulled out
his paper sack.
Because of the rain,
everyone had to eat inside,
in the auditorium.
He and Jeff
walked there together –
sort of.
He’s walking next to me,
Bradley thought,
but I’m not walking
next to him.
Page 32
The auditorium
was hot, steamy,
and noisy.
Long tables with benches
had been set up
across the room.
“Where do you want to sit?”
asked Jeff.
Bradley ignored him.
He stood on his tiptoes
and looked around the room
as if he was trying
to locate his real friends.
Jeff walked away
and sat at
one of the tables.
Bradley walked behind
where Jeff was sitting.
“Hmm, I think I’ll sit here,”
he said aloud,
as if he didn’t know
Jeff was there.
He stepped over the bench
and sat down next to him.
“Hi,” said Jeff.
Bradley faced him
for the first time.
“Oh, it’s you,”
he said.
They ate their lunches.
“What are you eating?”
asked Jeff.
“Peanubudder sandige,”
said Bradley.
As he spoke,
bits of peanut butter
and bread
flew from his mouth.
“Wha’ bou’
you?”
“Tuna fish,” said Jeff.
Bradley swallowed his food
and said,
“I hate tuna fish.”
“My mother makes it good,”
said Jeff. “
She chops apples in it.”
“I hate apples,”
said Bradley.
He sucked the last drop
of milk through his straw,
then continued to suck,
making a gurgling noise.
Sitting two tables away
from Jeff and Bradley
were three girls;
Melinda Birch,
Lori Westin,
and Colleen Verigold.
Page 33
They were talking
and laughing
about something funny
that had happened to Colleen
that morning.
Colleen, who had red hair
and a freckled face,
covered her mouth
with her hand.
“There he is!”
she whispered.
“It’s him!”
“Where?” asked Lori.
“Don’t look at him!”
said Colleen.
“He’s right there,
sitting next to
Bradley Chalkers.”
“Bradley Chalkers,” said Lori.
“I think
I’m going to throw up!”
“Don’t look,”
whispered Colleen.
Bradley stopped sucking
on his straw.
“What’d the counselor
do to you?” he asked.
Jeff shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Did she yell a lot?
Was she mean and ugly?”
“No. She was nice. I think you’ll like her.”
“Me?” asked Bradley.
“I’m not going to see her.
I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She’s good
at helping you solve
your problems,”
said Jeff.
“I don’t have any problems,”
said Bradley.
He bit ferociously
into a red delicious apple.
“I thought you said
you hated apples,”
said Jeff.
Bradley shoved the apple
back inside the paper sack.
“That wasn’t an apple,”
he said.
“It was a banana.”
Jeff’s face
suddenly changed color,
first white,
then bright red.
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“Ooh, I think he sees you,”
said Melinda.
Lori laughed.
Colleen blushed.
“C’mon,” said Lori.
“Let’s go talk to him.”
She stood up.
Lori Westin
was a short,
skinny girl
with long straight
black hair.
Melinda got up
from the table too.
She was nearly
twice
the size of Lori. She had short brown hair.
“No, don’t go!” pleaded Colleen.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bradley.
“Uh, nothing,” said Jeff. “So, did I miss anything in
class?”
“No. Mrs. Ebbel gave everybody a map.”
“I got one.”
“Don’t lose it,” said Bradley. “Mrs. Ebbel wants them
back.”
Two girls were giggling behind them.
Jeff and Bradley turned around.
“Colleen thinks you’re cute,” said Lori.
Jeff blushed. “Who?” he asked.
The girls laughed.
“What’s your name?” asked Melinda.
Jeff blushed again.
“Colleen wants to know,” said Lori, then she and
Melinda laughed again.
“He doesn’t have a name!” said Bradley, coming to
Jeff’s rescue. He hated Lori. She had the biggest mouth in the
whole school. She was always laughing, too.
Page 35
He could hear
her laugh from one end of the school to the other.
“E-uuu, Bradley Chalkers!” said Lori, holding her nose.
“Lori Loudmouth!” said Bradley. “We’re not talking to
you, Bradley,” said Melinda. “Get out of here or I’ll punch
your face in,” he replied.
“You wouldn’t hit a girl,” said Melinda.
“That’s what you think.” He shook his fist.
Melinda and Lori backed away. “We only wanted to
know his name,” said Melinda.
“And what he was doing in the girls’ bathroom!”
screeched Lori.
The two girls laughed and ran back to Colleen. Bradley
slowly turned and looked at Jeff, amazed. Jeff sat with his
head on the table and his arms over his head.
“You went into the girls’ bathroom?” Bradley asked.
“So what?” said Jeff from under his elbow. “Carla says
– ”
“Me too!” declared Bradley. “I go all the time! I like to
make them scream!”
He smiled at Jeff.
Page 36
9
Bradley Chalkers! What are you doing out of class?”
It was a teacher. Bradley didn’t know her, but
it seemed as though every teacher in the school knew him. “I
got a hall pass!” he told her.
“Let me see it.”
He showed it to her. “Mrs. Ebbel gave it to me. Go ask
her if you don’t believe me.”
“Where are you going?”
“Library,” he said. “To get a book.”
“Okay, but make sure you go straight to the library. No
detours, Bradley.”
He had lied. He wasn’t even allowed to check books out
of the library.
The door to the counselor’s office was open, so he
walked right in. “I’m here,” he announced. “Whadda ya
want?”
Carla smiled warmly at him. “Hello, Bradley,” she said.
“I’m Carla Davis. It’s a pleasure to see you today.” She held
out her hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
He was amazed by how young and pretty she was. He
had been expecting an ugly old hag.
She had sky-blue eyes and soft blond hair. She wore a
white shirt covered with different-colored squiggly lines, like
some kid had scribbled on it. But as he stared at the shirt he
realized that it was made to look that way, on purpose.
“Aren’t you going to shake my hand?” she asked.
“No, you’re too ugly.” He walked past her and sat down
at the round table.
She sat across from him. “I appreciate your coming to
see me,” she said.
“I had to come. Mrs. Ebbel made me.”
“For whatever reason, I’m glad you came.”
“I meant to go to the library,” he explained. “I came
here by accident.”
“Oh, I don’t believe in accidents,” said Carla.
“You don’t believe in accidents?” That was the craziest
thing he’d ever heard.
She shook her head.
“What about when you spill your milk?”
“Do you like milk?” asked Carla.
“No, I hate it!”
“So maybe you spill it on purpose,” she said. “You just
think it’s an accident.” She smiled.
He stared angrily down at the table. He felt like he’d
been tricked. “I don’t drink milk,” he said. “I drink coffee.”
He glanced around the room. It was full of all kinds of
interesting-looking objects. “This place is a mess,” he said.
“I know,” Carla admitted. “I like messy rooms. Clean
rooms are boring and depressing. They remind me of
hospitals.”
“Don’t you get in trouble?”
“Why should I?”
He didn’t know the answer to that. But he knew that if it
were his room and it was this messy, he’d get in trouble. “I
didn’t do anything wrong!” he declared.
“Nobody said you did.”
“Well, then how come I have to be here?”
“I was hoping you’d like it here,” said Carla. “I was
hoping we could be friends. Do you think we can?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
“I like you,” said Carla. “I can like you, can’t I? You
don’t have to like me.” He squirmed in his seat.
“I was also hoping you’d be able to teach me things,”
said Carla.
“You’re the teacher, not me.”
“So? That doesn’t matter. A teacher can often learn a lot
more from a student than a student can learn from a teacher.”
“I’ve taught Mrs. Ebbel a lot,” Bradley agreed. “Today I
taught her geography.”
“What do you want to teach me?” Carla asked.
“What do you want to know?”
“You tell me,” said Carla. “What’s the most important
thing you can teach me?”
Bradley tried to think of something he knew. “The
elephant’s the biggest animal in the world,” he said. “But it’s
afraid of mice.”
“I wonder why that is,” said Carla.
“Because,” said Bradley, “if a mouse ran up an
elephant’s trunk, it would get stuck and then the elephant
wouldn’t be able to breathe and so it would die. That’s how
most elephants die.”
“I see,” said Carla. “Thank you for sharing that with me.
You’re a very good teacher.”
He suddenly felt like he’d been tricked again. He didn’t
want to share anything with her. He hated her.
“What else do you want to teach me?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said coldly. “You’re not supposed to talk
in school.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a rule. Like no sticking gum in the water
fountains.”
“Well, in this room there are no rules,” said Carla. “In
here, everyone thinks for himself. No one tells you what to
do.”
“You mean I can stick gum in the water fountain?”
“You could, except I don’t have a water fountain.”
“Can I break something?” he asked.
“Certainly.”
He looked around for something to break, then caught
himself in time. It was another trick. He’d break something
and then get in trouble, and nobody would believe him when
he said that she had said there were no rules. “I’m not in the
mood,” he said.
“All right, but if you are ever in the mood, there are a lot
of things you can break – things I like very much and things
that other children use.”
“I will!” he assured her. “I know karate.” He raised his
hand sideways over the table. “I can break this table in half
with my bare hand.”
“I’d hate to see you hurt your hand.”
“Nothing ever hurts me,” he told her. “I’ve broken every
table in my house,” he declared. “The chairs, too. Call my
mother if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you,” said Carla. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“You should.”
She did, too. For the rest of the meeting, no matter what
he told her, she believed him.
When he told her that his parents only fed him dog food,
she asked him how it tasted.
“Delicious!” he said. “Meaty and sweet.”
“I’ve always wanted to try it,” said Carla.
When he told her that the President had called him on
the phone last night, she asked what they talked about.
“Hats,” he answered right away.
“Hats? What did you say about hats?”
“I asked him why he didn’t wear a hat like Abraham
Lincoln.”
“And what did he say?”
Bradley thought a moment. “I can’t tell you. It’s top
secret.”
Near the end of the session, Carla gave him a piece of
construction paper and asked him if he wanted to draw a
picture. He chose a black crayon from the big box of crayons
and stayed with it the whole time. He scribbled wildly all over
the paper.
Carla leaned over to look at it. “That’s very nice,” she
said.
“It’s a picture of nighttime,” he told her.
“Oh. I thought it was a picture of the floor of a barber
shop, after someone with black curly hair got his hair cut.”
“That’s what it is!” Bradley declared. “That’s what I
meant.”
“It’s very good,” said Carla. “May I have it?”
“What for?”
“I’d like to hang it up on my wall.”
He looked at her in amazement. “You mean here?”
“Yes.”
“No, it’s mine.”
“I was hoping you’d share it with me,” said Carla.
“It costs a dollar.”
“It’s worth it,” said Carla. “But I only want it if you’re
willing to share it.”
“No,” he said.
“Okay, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll still want
it.”
“You can make me give it to you,” he suggested.
“No, I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Teachers make kids do things all the
time.”
Carla shook her head.
It was time for him to return to class.
“I’ve enjoyed your visit very much,” said Carla. “Thank
you for sharing so much with me.” She held out her hand.
He backed away from it as if it were some kind of
poisonous snake. Then he turned and hurried out into the hall.
When he got to Mrs. Ebbel’s class, he crumpled his
picture into a ball and dropped it in the wastepaper basket next
to her desk.
B
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
10
radley sat at his desk in the back of the room. Last seat,
last row. He felt safe there. The counselor had scared
him. She was even worse than he had imagined.
He looked at Jeff, who smiled at him and then returned
to his work.
Bradley was glad Jeff was his friend. Jeff and me are a
lot alike, he thought. We’re both smart. We both hate the
counselor. And we both like sneaking into girls’ bathrooms.
Actually, Bradley never had been inside a girls’
bathroom. It was something he’d always wanted to do, but
he’d never had the courage even to peek into one. But now
that he and Jeff were friends, he hoped Jeff would take him
inside one. He was dying to know what they looked like.
He imagined they were carpeted in gold, with pink
wallpaper and red velvet toilet seats. He thought girl toilets
would look nothing like boy toilets. They’d probably be more
like fountains, with colored water.
“So, how’d you like Carla?” Jeff asked him after school.
They were walking along the sidewalk next to the school
building, carrying their raincoats. It was no longer raining.
“She’s we-ird!” he replied. “She likes to eat dog food!”
Jeff made a face. “Did she say that?”
Bradley nodded. “She asked me why the President
doesn’t wear a hat! How am I supposed to know that?”
Jeff shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t like her, do you?” Bradley asked.
“She’s o – ”
“I hate her!” said Bradley.
“Me too,” said Jeff. “I hate her!”
Bradley smiled his distorted smile. “You want to go
sneak inside the girls’ bathroom?” he asked.
“You mean now?”
“Why not?”
“Um, now’s not a good time,” said Jeff.
“Why not?”
Jeff thought a moment. “There won’t be any girls there
now,” he said. “They all go home to use their own bathrooms.”
“You’re right,” Bradley agreed. “Good thinking.
We’ll do it tomorrow during recess.”
Jeff smiled weakly.
They walked around the corner of the building.
“Hello, Jeff,” said Lori Westin.
“Hi, Jeff,” said Melinda Birch.
“Hi, J – ” Colleen said so quietly that the “eff” couldn’t
be heard.
They’d been waiting for him to come by. Somehow they
had found out his name.
“Hello, hi, hi,” Jeff answered, blushing.
Lori laughed. Then the three girls hurried away.
“Stupid girls,” said Bradley.
“Yeah,” Jeff muttered.
“I hate them!” said Bradley.
“Me too!” said Jeff.
“Why’d you say hello to them?”
“They said hello to me, first,” Jeff replied.
“So?”
Jeff shrugged. “Whenever anybody says hello to me, I
always say hello back.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I can’t help it. It’s like when someone
says ‘thank you.’ Don’t you automatically say ‘you’re
welcome’?”
“No.”
“I do,” said Jeff. He shrugged again. “I guess it’s like a
reflex. Like when you go to the doctor and he taps your knee,
you have to kick. You can’t help it. It’s the same thing. When
someone says hello to me, I always have to say hello back.”
Bradley tried to make sense out of what Jeff said. “I
know what you can do,” he suggested. “The next time one of
those girls says hello to you – kick her!”
A
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
11
week later they still hadn’t gone into the girls’ bathroom.
Jeff always had a good reason why it wasn’t the right
time. Recess was the wrong time, because it would be
better to wait until after lunch, after the girls had eaten. Lunch
was no good, because they hadn’t had time to digest their
food. Listening to Jeff, it would seem that girls never had to go
to the bathroom.
But Bradley had never been happier. He was thrilled to
have a friend. He even was beginning to like school.
Jeff had two gold stars next to his name. Bradley felt
proud when he looked at them, almost like he had earned them
himself.
“What do you want to do?” Jeff asked.
“Nothing,” said Bradley.
It was lunchtime. They had finished eating and were
sitting out on the grass.
“Did the counselor say anything stupid today?”
Bradley asked.
Jeff hesitated. He looked down at the ground, then
boldly stated, “I like her.”
Bradley was shocked.
“She said that I can like her even if you hate her,” Jeff
asserted. “It doesn’t mean that you and I can’t still be friends.
We don’t have to agree on everything. She said friendships are
stronger when everyone has different opinions to share.”
“You told her I hated her?” Bradley asked.
Jeff nodded.
“Good.”
“Except she didn’t believe me,” said Jeff.
“She’s weird,” said Bradley. “She never believes
anything anyone says. I’m not going to see her anymore.”
“She said you don’t have to. I told her you wouldn’t
show up today and she said that was okay. She said you don’t
have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Bradley turned and looked back toward the school, in
the direction of the counselor’s office. “That’s one of her
tricks,” he said.
“So what do you want to do?” Jeff asked.
“Nothing.”
A basketball bounced away from the basketball court
and rolled toward them. Jeff jumped up and grabbed it.
“Hey, Fishnose, over here!” called Robbie, a boy from
their class.
“Kick it the other way,” urged Bradley.
Jeff threw the ball all the way on a fly to Robbie.
“You should have kicked it onto the roof,” said Bradley.
“Maybe they’ll let us play,” said Jeff. “Let’s ask them.”
Bradley shook his head. “No, I don’t want to.”
Jeff watched the boys play basketball for a moment,
then sat back down with Bradley.
“Uh-oh,” Bradley said. “Here come those girls again.
Try not to say hello to them.”
“Hello, Jeff,” said Lori.
“Hello,” said Jeff.
“Hi,” said Melinda.
“Hi,” said Jeff.
“Hi, Jeff,” whispered Colleen.
“Hi,” whispered Jeff.
Lori laughed as the three girls walked away.
Jeff shrugged. “I can’t help it,” he said sadly.
“Let’s go beat them up!” said Bradley. “Then they won’t
say hello to you anymore.” He started after them, but Jeff
didn’t follow. “C’mon,” Bradley urged. “Girls are easy to beat
up. You just have to hit them once, and they cry and run
away.”
“Not now,” said Jeff.
“Why not?”
“Everyone will see us. We’ll get in trouble.”
Bradley stopped. “You’re right,” he agreed. “We’ll get
them after school.”
“I can’t,” said Jeff. “I’ve got to go right home after
school and do my homework.”
Bradley was beginning to get fed up. “How come you’re
always doing your homework?” he asked, hands on hips. He
said the word homework the way other people might say the
word manure.
Jeff shrugged.
“Do you like doing it?” Bradley asked.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind too much.”
Bradley kicked at the ground. “Do you think if I did my
homework, Mrs. Ebbel might give me a gold star?” he asked.
“I don’t think she gives gold stars just for doing
homework,” said Jeff. “But she might!”
“Maybe I should do it sometime,” said Bradley.
“Why don’t you come over after school today?” Jeff
asked. “We can do our homework together.”
Bradley’s face twisted in anguish. “Today? I don’t think
today’s a good day to do homework.”
“I can help y – ” Jeff started to say, then stopped. “You
can help me with the stuff I don’t understand.”
“All right!” said Bradley. “I’ll do it!”
“Good!” said Jeff.
“First, we’ll beat up those girls,” said Bradley, “then
we’ll go to your house and do our homework.”
J
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
12
ust before the end of the lunch period, someone knocked
very lightly on the door to the counselor’s office.
“Come in,” said Carla.
A girl timidly stepped inside. “Are you Miss Davis?”
she asked.
“Yes, but I prefer to be called Carla.”
“Do I have to tell you my name?” asked the girl.
“No, not if you don’t want to.”
“Colleen Verigold,” said the girl. She sat down in one of
the chairs around the round table and said, “I don’t know who
to invite to my birthday party.”
Carla remained standing.
“See, there’s this boy I want to invite,” said Colleen.
“Do I have to tell you his name?”
“No.”
“Jeff Fishkin.” Carla smiled.
“But if I invite Jeff, then I’ll have to invite another boy,
because I can’t invite seven girls and only one boy, can I?”
“I don’t – ”
“Except Jeff has only one friend and he’s the most
horrible, rotten boy in the whole school! I can’t invite Bradley
Chalkers to my birthday party, I just can’t!” She took a breath.
“So what should I do?”
“You want me to tell you whom to invite to your
birthday party?”
“Lori says you’re good at solving problems.”
“Lori solves her own problems. I just help her think for
herself.”
“But I don’t know what to think!” Colleen exclaimed. “I
can’t invite seven girls and only one boy. And I can’t invite
Bradley!”
“When’s your birthday?”
“November thirteenth.”
“Then you still have plenty of time,” said Carla. “Let me
give you a form for your parents to sign. Right now, I’m not
even allowed to talk to you without your parents’ permission.”
“That’s dumb!”
“No it isn’t,” said Carla. “Some parents don’t want
strangers giving advice to their children.”
“But my parents won’t care,” said Colleen. “They said I
can invite anybody I want to my birthday party.”
“That’s not the point,” said Carla. She handed her the
form.
Colleen reluctantly took it. “Can’t you just whisper it to
me?” she asked.
Carla shook her head.
Melinda and Lori were waiting for Colleen when she
came out. “Who are you going to invite?” asked Melinda.
“Not Bradley,” said Lori. “Please, not Bradley.”
“I don’t know yet,” said Colleen. “She won’t tell me
until my parents sign this form.”
B
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
13
radley dragged his feet as he walked to Carla’s office.
She was waiting in the hall for him. “It’s a pleasure
to see you today,” she said. “I appreciate your coming to see
me.” She held out her hand.
He stepped past her and sat down at the round table. She
sat across from him.
“The reason the President doesn’t wear a hat is because
the doorways are too low,” he said. “He used to wear one, but
every time he walked through a door, he’d hit his hat and it
would fall on the floor.”
“That makes sense,” Carla agreed. “Thank you for
sharing that with me. But,” she whispered, “I thought you
weren’t allowed to tell me such top secret information.”
“The President says he trusts you,” said Bradley. “Thank
you, Bradley,” said Carla. “I’m glad you trust me.”
He looked at her as if he thought she were deaf. He
hadn’t said he trusted her. He had said the President trusted
her, but he decided to let it go.
She was wearing a yellow shirt with large green
triangular buttons all the way down the front. On one side of
the buttons was a big white exclamation point. On the other
side, there was a big white question mark.
“Jeff trusts you too,” he said.
“I understand you two have become friends,” said Carla.
“We’re best friends.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Carla.
“Today, after school, we’re going to do our homework
together. At his house! I’m going to help him with the stuff he
doesn’t understand.”
“That’s very nice of you,” said Carla. “I’m sure Jeff
appreciates having you as a friend.”
“I’m his only friend,” said Bradley.
“But even if he had other friends – ”
“He won’t have any other friends,” Bradley interrupted.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do. I’m his only friend.”
“But suppose he makes new friends?”
“I don’t want him to.”
“But if he made new friends, then his new friends could
become your friends too.”
“He won’t,” said Bradley, shaking his head.
“Just because you and he are friends, that doesn’t mean
he can’t have other friends too,” said Carla.
“Yes it does.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said proudly. “So long as Jeff is friends
with me, nobody else will like him!”
H
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
14
omework. After school Bradley Chalkers was going to
go to Jeff Fishkin’s house, and they were going to do
their homework together. Bradley couldn’t believe it.
Homework. It was all he thought about as he sat at his desk –
last seat, last row – and waited for school to end. Maybe it
won’t be too horrible, he reasoned. After all, Jeff always does
his homework. He must like it.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the
idea. Homework: Work you do at home. Except he wouldn’t do
it at his home, he would do it at Jeff’s home, and that was even
better. It would be his first time over at Jeff’s house.
And after he did his homework, Mrs. Ebbel might give
him a gold star. Instead of scribbling, he drew little stars, one
after another until the bell rang.
But first they had to beat up those girls.
“C’mon, let’s go,” he said, hopping out of his seat.
“Just a sec,” said Jeff. He got a book from his desk.
“Oh, do I need one of those?” Bradley asked. He hadn’t
realized that in order to do his homework, he would need to
bring his book home.
“That’s okay, we can share mine.”
They walked outside. There was a light drizzle.
“They’re in Mrs. Sharp’s class,” said Bradley. “We can
wait here until they come out, then sneak up behind them.”
“Who?”
“Those girls. We have to beat them up so they won’t say
hello to you.”
“We should probably get started on our homework right
away,” said Jeff.
“It won’t take long,” Bradley assured him. “You just
have to hit them once, and they cry and run away.”
“But it’s raining,” said Jeff. It was barely misting.
“Good! We can push them in the mud and get their
clothes dirty. Girls hate it when their clothes get dirty.”
They stood about ten yards away from Mrs. Sharp’s
door and waited. Several kids came out, but they didn’t see
Colleen, Lori, or Melinda.
“Maybe they’ve already gone home,” Jeff said
hopefully.
“No, girls always take a long time to leave class,”
Bradley explained. “First, they have to put their papers neatly
in their notebooks. Then they have to mark their places in their
books and put all their pencils in their pencil holders. Then
they put everything away, neatly, in their desks.” He said it as
though it was the most disgusting thing anyone could do.
“Shh! Here they come.”
Melinda, followed by Colleen and Lori, came out of
Mrs. Sharp’s room.
Bradley put his finger to his lips, then he and Jeff
walked after them, keeping their distance. They followed the
girls around the side of the building and along the sidewalk
away from the school.
“Let’s just go home,” said Jeff. “The homework might
take a long time.”
“Girls kick,” warned Bradley. “They don’t know how to
punch, so they try to kick you.” He quickened his pace until he
was just a few steps behind the girls. Jeff lagged a little
behind.
Lori was the first to turn around. “E-uuu, Bradley
Chalkers!” she said, making a face.
“Lori Loudmouth,” snapped Bradley. “The ugliest girl
in school!”
Melinda and Colleen stopped walking and turned
around too.
“Grow up, Bradley,” said Melinda.
“Make me,” he replied.
“Hello, Jeff,” Colleen said very quietly.
“Hello,” said Jeff.
“Quit saying hello to him!” said Bradley.
“It’s a free country,” said Lori. “We can say hello.”
“Not to us!” said Bradley.
“We didn’t say hello to you!” said Lori. “Just him!
Hello, Jeff.”
“Hello,” said Jeff.
Lori laughed.
“Why don’t you just leave us alone, Bradley,” said
Melinda.
“No. You leave us alone first!” Bradley said, and he
pushed Melinda.
She pushed him back. He pushed her again. She shoved
him off the sidewalk.
He slipped on the wet grass and fell to the ground. Lori
laughed hysterically.
Bradley scrambled angrily to his feet. “You got my
clothes dirty!”
“Bradley wet his pants!” teased Lori, hiding behind
Melinda.
“Shut up!” he yelled.
“You started it,” said Melinda.
“I’ll punch your face in,” said Bradley. He shook his fist
at her.
Melinda raised her fists in the air.
He charged toward her, then kicked her in the leg.
She slugged him in the face with all her might.
Bradley stumbled backward and almost fell again, but
caught his balance.
He glared at Melinda as his eyes swelled with tears.
“No fair! Four against one!” he shouted, then ran home
crying.
“M
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
15
y poor baby,” said Bradley’s mother as she
wrapped her massive arms around him.
He had stopped crying shortly after he ran away from
Melinda, but started again when he saw his mother. “They beat
me up and threw me in the mud,” he sobbed.
His mother wiped his face with a tissue she kept rolled
up in her shirt sleeve. “Come on,” she said, and led him by the
hand, down the hall to the bathroom. “You’ll take a nice warm
bath, put on clean clothes, and feel good as new.”
Claudia was in the bathroom, combing her hair. “What
happened to him?”
“Some bullies picked on him after school.”
“There were four of them,” said Bradley. “And they
ripped up my homework too!”
“You’ve been crying!” Claudia accused.
“That’s the rain,” said Bradley.
Claudia started to say something but her mother told her
to leave the bathroom. She laid out clean clothes on the
bathroom counter, then started the water.
After his bath, Bradley went into his bedroom.
He was just in the nick of time!
Ronnie the Rabbit was romping across the bed, singing
“doo de-doo de-doo,” when suddenly she was lost! “Where am
I?” she asked.
Suddenly, three bad guys were chasing her. They were
the Two of Spades, the Nine of Hearts, and the King of
Diamonds. The King of Diamonds was the leader of the bad
guys. “After her!” he yelled.
“Help!” called Ronnie. She ran to the edge of the bed –
the cliff! She was trapped. The floor was a thousand feet
below. The bad guys moved in for the kill. “Let me go!” she
shouted, then fell off the bed onto the floor, but that was an
accident. Bradley picked her up and put her back on the edge
of the bed. It never happened. There was time out.
“What are you going to do to me?” asked Ronnie,
trembling on the edge of the cliff.
“We are going to kill you,” said the King of Diamonds.
“Oh no you’re not!” said a voice from behind. It was
Bartholomew.
“Get him, boys,” ordered the King of Diamonds.
The cards attacked.
Bartholomew punched the Two of Spades in the
stomach, then flipped him over his head and over the cliff.
“Aaaaaaaah…” the Two of Spades yelled as he fell a thousand
feet to his death. Next, Bartholomew beat up the Nine of
Hearts. “Go join your friend,” he said as he threw him over the
cliff too. “Aaaaaaaah,” cried the Nine.
Now only the King of Diamonds was left. He cameat
Bartholomew, swinging an axe. “I’ll chop off your head!” he
sneered.
Bartholomew ducked, then kicked the axe out of the
King’s hand and punched his face in. He threw the King over
the cliff too.
Ronnie ran to Bartholomew. “You saved my life,” she
said.
“I know,” said Bartholomew.
They kissed.
Claudia walked into the room. “Mom’s making cookies
because you got beat up,” she said. “Ooh, you’re going to have
a black eye.”
“I didn’t get beat up,” Bradley declared. “I beat them up.
I gave one kid two black eyes, and another boy three.”
“You can’t give somebody three black eyes,” said
Claudia.
“Shut up!” said Bradley. “Or I’ll give you four black
eyes.”
Claudia shrugged and left his room. Bradley got up from
his bed and went into the kitchen, where his mother was
making chocolate chip cookies. She let him lick the spoon.
“I want to know the names of the boys who did this to
you,” she said. “I’m going to call your school principal.”
Bradley thought for a moment. “I don’t know all their
names,” he said.
“Don’t be afraid to tell me,” said his mother. “They
won’t hurt you anymore.”
Bradley thought a moment. “Jeff Fishkin!” he declared.
“He was the leader of the gang.”
“I’ll call the school first thing in the morning,” said his
mother.
“Good!” said Bradley. “I hope he gets in trouble. I hate
him.”
B
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
16
radley 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
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 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 you tell him?” Bradley asked.
Jeff shrugged. “I told him you’re my best friend.”
“The principal’s stupid,” Bradley agreed.
J
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
17
eff and Bradley ate lunch together around the side of the
building, where nobody would bother them.
Jeff stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I have to go
to the bathroom.”
“Which one?” Bradley asked.
“Boys’,” said Jeff.
“Oh,” said Bradley. “I’ll wait for you here.”
It was a very long wait.
§
“Hey, Jeff!” Robbie called as Jeff stepped out of the
bathroom.
“Me?” asked Jeff. It surprised him because Robbie had
always called him Fishnose or Fishbrain.
“Come over here,” said Robbie. A group of boys was
with him. Jeff recognized some from his class, but didn’t know
them all. One of the boys had a basketball.
“Hi, Jeff,” said Brian, a boy from his class.
“Hi, Brian,” he replied.
“How’s it goin’, Jeff?” asked Russell.
“Okay.”
“This is Jeff Fishkin,” Robbie told the boys who weren’t
in his class. “He’s the guy who gave Chalkers the black eye.”
“Way to go, Jeff!” said one of the boys he didn’t know.
“All right, Jeff!” said another.
“Oh, man, would I have liked to have seen that.”
“Man, when I saw Chalkers’ eye today,” said Robbie, “I
just smiled. And then when I found out you got called to the
principal’s office, I thought, ‘Way to go, Jeff.’ ”
“You didn’t get in trouble, did you, Jeff?” asked Dan.
Jeff shook his head.
“They probably gave him a medal,” said Russell,
laughing.
The others laughed too.
“You like to play basketball, Jeff?” asked Andy, the boy
with the basketball.
“Sure!” said Jeff.
They chose teams. Robbie and Andy were captains.
Robbie had first pick. “I got Jeff,” he said.
Jeff beamed.
They played basketball for the remainder of the lunch
period. Jeff’s team won, but it was also the team with five
players. The other team had only four.
Everyone told him he played a great game.
“I always wondered why a guy like you was hanging
around with Chalkers,” said Robbie. “I guess it just took you a
while to find out who your real friends were.”
Jeff smiled. These were the kind of friends he had had
back in his old school in Washington, D.C.
Of course, it meant he couldn’t be friends with Bradley
anymore, but…He shrugged.
F
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
18
rom around the corner of the brick building, Bradley
watched the end of Jeff’s basketball game. Every time
Jeff took a shot, Bradley prayed he’d miss. When the bell
rang, he hurried back to class ahead of Jeff and the other boys.
He sat at his desk – last seat, last row – and took out one
of his books; it didn’t matter which one. He stared at it very
intently as Jeff sat down next to him.
Well, maybe it was okay for Jeff to have other friends,
he decided as he turned a page. I’m still his best friend. That’s
what he told the principal. Jeff wouldn’t lie to the principal!
Maybe I’ll get to play basketball with his new friends, too, like
Carla said.
“Jeff,” he whispered.
He wanted to tell Jeff that everything was still okay, that
they could still be friends.
“Hey, Jeff!”
Jeff didn’t look up from his work.
Jeff works hard, Bradley realized. That’s how he gets all
the gold stars.
He had to wait until after school.
“Hey, Jeff,” he said as soon as the bell rang.
Jeff picked up his books and started out the door.
Bradley hurried after him. “Jeff!” he called. “Wait up.”
Jeff stopped and slowly turned around.
Bradley suddenly felt very nervous. “Do you want to do
our homework together?” he asked. “I can come over to your
house if you want, or you can come over to mine. We can use
my book. See.” He showed Jeff his book.
“Hey, out of our way, Chalkers,” said Robbie as he and
Brian pushed past him.
“Chicken Chalkers,” said Brian.
“Yeah, Chalkers,” said Jeff.
Bradley walked away. He heard Jeff and his new friends
laughing behind him.
But when he got home, his own friends were very glad
to see him.
“We’re so glad you’re home,” said Ronnie. “We missed
you. We’re glad you didn’t go over to Jeff’s house.”
“You’re our best friend,” said Bartholomew.
“Hooray for Bradley!” shouted the wooden
hippopotamus. “Hip…hip…”
“Hooray!” yelled all the other animals.
“Hip…hip…”
“Hooray!”
“Hip…hip…” said the hippo one last time.
“Hooray!”
“Let’s play a game,” said the donkey.
“What do you want to play?” asked Ronnie.
“Anything but basketball,” said Bartholomew. “I hate
basketball.”
“Basketball is a stupid game,” Ronnie agreed.
“It’s the worst game in the world,” said the
hippopotamus.
“Why would anybody want to play basketball?”
laughed the ivory donkey.
All the other animals laughed too.
E
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
19
verything returned to normal.
Bradley scribbled, cut up bits of paper, and taped
things together. He hated everyone and everyone hated him.
That was the way he liked it.
He shuddered whenever he remembered that he actually
had almost done his homework. He couldn’t imagine anything
more horrible than that!
And he was glad Jeff wasn’t his friend anymore. He
realized he was better off without friends. In fact, he never was
friends with Jeff! I was just pretending to be his friend.
He decided he’d never pretend to be anybody’s friend
again.
Jeff was normal now too. That was what he told Carla.
He walked into her office and announced, “I don’t need any
help anymore. I have eight friends now. We play basketball
every recess and lunch, and I’m the best player.”
“Good for you, Jeff,” said Carla. “I’m very proud of
you.”
“How many friends have you made?” he asked.
“I don’t keep score,” said Carla.
“I’ve made eight,” said Jeff.
“I’ve always considered quality to be more important
than quantity when it comes to friendship,” said Carla.
“Eight,” Jeff repeated. “And I’m not friends with
Bradley anymore either.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Why? I’m not. I hate him. In fact” – he looked around
the room – “I gave him a black eye!” He quickly glanced at
Carla to see if she knew he was lying, then looked away.
“What happened?” Carla asked.
“Oh, you know, he wouldn’t stop bothering me. I kept
telling him to get lost, but he kept hanging around. I never
liked him. No one does. Then he said to me, ‘Give me a dollar
or I’ll spit on you!’ Well, no one threatens me and gets away
with it! I don’t take that from nobody. So he tried to hit me,
but I ducked, then punched his face in. I didn’t want to do it,
but I had no choice.”
That was the short version. Jeff had told that same story
to his eight new friends, but he usually made it much longer.
“So I don’t think I need to see a counselor anymore,” he
said, “since I have eight friends.”
“Okay, Jeff, if that’s how you feel,” said Carla.
“They might think I’m weird or something,” he
explained.
“Well, we can’t have them thinking that.”
“Does that mean I can go?”
Carla nodded. “But anytime you want to talk again,
please feel free to come and see me.” She smiled. “Even if you
just feel like getting out of class for a while.”
He left, glad to be out of there.
On his way back to class, he walked past the girls’
bathroom. He stopped, shook his head, and chuckled to
himself. It seemed like it was such a long time ago when he
accidentally went in there. I used to be such a jerk, he thought.
He smiled a strange smile. He stretched his mouth so
wide, it was hard to tell whether it was a smile or a frown.
C
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
20
olleen walked into Carla’s office.
“I just came to tell you I can’t talk to you,” she
said.
“Your parents didn’t sign the form?”
“No, and they won’t either! You know what they said?
They said it was a waste of money for the school to hire you.
They said you should get married and have your own children
before you start telling other parents how they should raise
theirs.”
Carla shrugged.
“They said if I have any problems I should talk to them.
But when I try to talk to them, they don’t listen.” She sighed.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Jeff has lots of other friends now
besides Bradley.”
“Eight,” said Carla with a smile.
“So now I can invite Jeff to my birthday party without
having to invite Bradley. I can invite one of Jeff’s other
friends. Andy’s nice. I couldn’t invite Bradley even if I wanted
to, because Melinda is my best friend, except for Lori, and she
gave Bradley a black eye.”
Colleen quickly covered her mouth with her hand, then
slowly took it away. “That was supposed to be a secret,” she
said. “Melinda doesn’t want anybody to know.”
“I never repeat anything anyone tells me,” Carla assured
her.
“Good,” said Colleen. “Melinda would kill me.”
“Have you asked Jeff to your party yet?”
“No, not yet, but I will. I know he likes me because he
always says hello to me when I say hello to him. But then I
always get so scared. I never know what to say next. I wish
you could help me. Why did my parents say such bad things
about you? They don’t even know you.”
“Your parents are just trying to do what’s best for you,”
said Carla. “A lot of people think counselors don’t belong in
schools.” She shrugged. “I guess they’re afraid I might fill
your head with all kinds of crazy ideas.”
“H
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
21
ello, Bradley,” said Carla. “It’s a pleasure to see you
today. I appreciate your coming to see me.” She held
out her hand.
“I punched myself in the eye,” he said as he walked past
her. He didn’t want her thinking someone else gave it to him.
“I’m the only one who can beat me up.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked.
“No,” he said, sitting at the round table. “Nobody can
hurt me. Not even me.”
She sat across from him. She was wearing a light blue
shirt with yellow mice running all over it. The shirt was the
same color as her eyes. The mice were the same color as her
hair.
“I wanted to hit somebody,” he explained as he stared at
her shirt. “But if I hit another kid, I would have gotten in
trouble, so I hit myself.”
“Why’d you want to hit somebody?”
“Because I hate him.”
“Who?”
“Everybody.”
“Is that why you hit yourself? Do you hate yourself?”
He didn’t answer. He thought it was another one of her
trick questions.
“Do you like yourself?” she asked.
He didn’t trust that question either.
“Maybe the reason you say you don’t like anybody else
is because you really don’t like yourself.”
“I like myself,” he said. “You’re the one I don’t like!”
“Tell me some things about yourself that you like.”
He glared at her.
“I like you,” she said. “I think you have lots of good
qualities. But I want you to tell me things you like about
yourself.”
“I can’t talk anymore,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I’m sick. The doctor said I can’t talk. The more I talk,
the sicker I get.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is! I’ve probably said too much already, and it’s your
fault. I’ll probably throw up.”
Carla nodded. “Don’t say another word,” she said
quietly. “We’ll just sit together in silence. Sometimes people
can learn a lot about each other just by sitting together in
silence.” She locked her mouth shut, then opened it to swallow
the key.
“You’re weird,” said Bradley.
“A lot of people tell me that,” she admitted, then put her
finger to her lips.
They sat together in silence. Bradley shifted in his chair.
His eyes darted restlessly around the room. He put his hands
behind his head and leaned back, then brought his hands out in
front of him and folded them. Then he unfolded them.
He didn’t like sitting together in silence. He thought she
was probably learning too much about him. “I can probably
talk a little bit,” he said.
“No, I don’t want you to get sick,” said Carla. “I like
you too much.”
“The doctor says I’m supposed to talk a little, just not a
lot.”
“All right. Shall we talk about school?”
“No! The doctor says if I talk about school, I’ll die!”
Carla frowned. “That’s a problem,” she said. “See, as
part of my job, I’m supposed to help you do better in school.
But how can I help you if we can’t even talk about it?”
Bradley put his fingers to his chin and thought it over. “I
know!” he said. “Just tell everybody that you tried to help me,
but I wouldn’t let you. Tell them that I was too mean and
nasty. That’s it. Tell them I said I’d spit on you.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t say that about you,” said Carla.
“You’re too nice.”
“They’ll believe you,” he assured her.
“It doesn’t matter whether they believe me or not,” said
Carla. “I’d know it was a lie.”
“So?”
“So when you tell a lie, the only person you’re lying to
is yourself.”
He didn’t see anything wrong with that. If you’re only
lying to yourself, and you know it’s a lie, then it doesn’t
matter.
“I just wish I knew why a smart kid like you keeps
failing.”
“It’s because Mrs. Ebbel doesn’t like me,” said Bradley.
“Shh!” said Carla. “Don’t talk about it!”
“Well, I can probably talk about school a little bit
without dying,” he said.
“O-kay,” Carla said hesitatingly, “but as soon as you feel
even a little bit like dying, let me know and we’ll stop.”
They talked about school for about fifteen minutes
before Bradley felt like dying. Carla pointed out that the same
questions that were on the tests were also on his homework
assignments. She suggested that if he did his homework, the
tests might be easy for him.
“The tests are easy,” he told her. “I could get a hundred
if I wanted. I’m the oldest kid in the class. I answer all the
questions wrong on purpose.”
“You want to know what I think?” asked Carla. “I think
you would like to get good grades. I think that the only reason
you say you want to fail is because you’re afraid to try. You’re
afraid that even if you try, you’ll still fail.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” said Bradley.
“I think you’re afraid of yourself,” said Carla. “But you
shouldn’t be. I have lots of confidence in you, Bradley. I know
you’d do so well, if only you’d try. I can help you. We can
help each other. We can try together.”
It was then that he told her he couldn’t talk about school
anymore or else he’d die.
She thanked him for talking about it as much as he had.
“You were very brave,” she said. She suggested that for their
next meeting he make a list of topics to discuss so that they
wouldn’t have to risk talking about school again.
“Is that homework?” he asked.
“No-o-o,” she assured him. “You don’t even have to put
your name at the top.”
“Good,” said Bradley. He was glad it wasn’t homework.
It was time to return to class. “Thank you for sharing so
much with me today,” Carla said to him. “I enjoyed your visit
very much.” She held out her hand.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out of her
office.
A
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
22
ll week Bradley worked on his list of topics to discuss
with Carla. It’s not homework, he kept telling himself. In
fact, it’s the opposite of homework! Because if I think of
some good topics, then we won’t have to talk about homework.
He didn’t scribble during class. He listened closely to
what Mrs. Ebbel and the other kids said in order to get ideas
for his list. He took it with him wherever he went. At recess,
he kept his eyes and ears open, constantly on the lookout for a
new topic.
The other kids were meaner to him than they’d ever
been before. They were no longer afraid of him. They called
him names, and when he didn’t do anything about it, they
called him more names.
A fourth-grade boy who wanted to show off to his
friends ran up to him and said, “You’re not even human!
You’re a monster! You’re a monster from outer space!”
The boy ran away, but Bradley didn’t chase him. He
added three new topics to his list: Humans, Monsters, and
Outer Space.
Monday was Halloween. Most of the kids brought
costumes, which they were allowed to put on at lunch. Brian,
one of Jeff’s friends, didn’t bring a costume. So he borrowed a
black Magic Marker from Mrs. Ebbel and colored a circle
around one eye. When he came back from lunch, he told
everyone he was a Bradley Chalkers.
While everyone laughed, Bradley busily worked on his
list. It covered both sides of three sheets of paper.
1. Trees that lose their leaves
2. Gold stars
3. Chalk
4. Tape
5. Are chickens really afraid?
6. Why people laugh
7. What does it feel like to be shot in the leg?
8. Pencils
9. Pencil sharpeners
10. Accidents
11. Coffee
12. Military school
13. Canes
14. Basketball
15. Friends
16. Enemies
17. Hopscotch
18. Dodgeball
19. Four square
20. One potato
21. Two potato
22. Three potato
23. Four
24. Five potato
25. Six potato
26. Seven potato
27. More
28. Less
29. Nothing at all
30. What’s it like to be in jail?
31. Good boys
32. Bad boys
33. Breakfast
34. Lunch
35. Dinner
36. Have you ever been to the White House?
37. Who shot my father?
38. Why did he get away?
39. Peanut butter and jelly
40. Gold stars
41. Black eyes
42. Fighting
43. Girls with big mouths!
44. What’s it like inside a girls’ bathroom?
45. Saying hello
46. Reflexes
47. Hate
48. When will I be able to grow a beard?
49. Things that smell bad
50. Things you like about yourself
51. Things you don’t like about yourself
52. Things nobody likes about yourself
53. Things you don’t like about anybody else
54. Gold stars
55. Does my head look like a chili bowl?
56. Closets
57. Hiding places
58. Dreaming
59. Bad dreams
60. I wish I could fly.
61. Kids with glasses
62. Glasses you drink from
63. Why people like some people and hate other people
64. Breaking things
65. I wish I was invisible.
66. Cry babies
67. What happens to you when you grow old?
68. Humans
69. Monsters
70. Outer space
71. Why is Halloween a holiday?
72. Pirates
73. Princesses
74. Ghosts
75. What happens when you die?
76. What if you were never born?
77. Can someone else be you?
78. Can you be someone else?
79. If I was someone else, I wouldn’t make fun of me.
80. Magic
81. Markers
He didn’t go trick-or-treating that evening, though
Ronnie and Bartholomew did. The other animals gave them
lots of candy.
“I’m making a list of topics to talk about with my
counselor,” he told them. “Do you have any ideas?”
“How about rabbits?” suggested Ronnie.
“That’s a good one,” said Bradley. He added “Rabbits”
to his list.
“Bears,” said Bartholomew.
“That’s good too.”
Claudia barged into his room.
Bradley quickly shoved his list under the pillow on his
bed.
“How about what Dad’s going to do to you when he
finds out you’re flunking?” she asked. “That’s a good topic.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Bradley.
“The list.”
“What list?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Claudia. She slowly wandered
toward the bed, then lunged for the pillow.
Bradley dived for it, too, but Claudia beat him to it. She
held the list above her head and read it. As she looked at each
new page, she cracked up laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“Your list!”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“This isn’t the kind of stuff you talk about with a
counselor.”
“How do you know?”
“Chalk?” asked Claudia. “What can you say about
chalk?”
“A lot!” he insisted.
Claudia laughed. “One potato! Two potato! Your
counselor’s going to be mad when she sees this.”
“Give it to me!”
“Yes,” she answered as if he had asked a question.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. Your head looks like a chili bowl.” She laughed.
“Shut up!”
“‘Who shot my father?’ “ read Claudia. “How’s she
going to know that?”
Bradley shrugged.
Claudia gave him back the list. “You wrote ‘Gold stars’
three times,” she said, shaking her head.
Bradley grabbed it from her hand and looked at what
he’d written.
“That’s the stupidest list I’ve ever seen,” said Claudia.
“Your counselor’s not going to want to talk about anything on
that list.”
“You don’t know her,” he replied. “She’ll talk about
anything I want to talk about. She listens to me. She likes me!”
“No she doesn’t,” scoffed Claudia. “That’s just her job!”
She walked out of his room, laughing.
Bradley watched her go. Then he added two new topics
to his list: Sisters and Jobs.
Tears filled his eyes as he tried to think of another topic.
He crossed off two of the “Gold stars,” then crumpled the list
into a ball and threw it in his trash basket.
“L
∨ There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom ∧
23