A Boy.
Page 6-8.

5. Story

Page 6

There are some kids –

you can tell

just by looking at them –

who are good spitters.

 

That is probably

the best way

to describe Bradley Chalkers.

He looked like

a good spitter.

 

He was the oldest

and the toughest-looking kid

in Mrs. Ebbel’s class.

 

He was a year older

than the other kids.

That was because

he had taken

the fourth grade twice.

 

 

Now he was in the fifth grade

for the first,

but probably

not the last, time.

 

Jeff stared at him,

then gave him a dollar

and ran away.

 

Bradley laughed to himself,

then watched

all the other kids

have fun.

 

 

When he returned

to class after recess,

he was surprised Mrs. Ebbel

didn’t say anything to him.

 

 

He figured that Jeff

would probably

tell on him

and that he’d have to

give back the dollar.

 

 

He sat at his desk

in the back of the room –

last seat,

last row.

 

 

He’s afraid

to tell on me,

he decided.

 

He knows

if he tells on me,

I’ll punch his face in!

 

He laughed to himself.

He ate lunch alone too.

 

As he walked in from lunch,

Mrs. Ebbel called him

to her desk.

 

“Who, me?” he asked.

 

He glared at Jeff,

who was already sitting down.

 

“I didn’t do anything.”

 

“Did you give my note

to your mother?”

asked Mrs. Ebbel.

 

“Huh?

What note?

You never gave me a note.”

 

Mrs. Ebbel sighed.

 

“Yes I did, Bradley.

 

In fact,

I gave you two notes

because you said

the first one

was stolen.”

 

 “Oh, that’s right,” he said.

“I gave it to her

a long time ago.”

 

Mrs. Ebbel eyed him suspiciously.

 

“Bradley, I think it’s very important

for your mother to come tomorrow.”

 

Tomorrow was Parents’ Conference Day.

 

“She can’t come,” said Bradley.

“She’s sick.”

 

“You never gave her the note,

did you?”

“Call her doctor

if you don’t believe me.”

 

“The school has just hired

a new counselor,”

said Mrs. Ebbel.

 

“And I think it’s very important

that your mother meet her.”

 

“Oh, they already met,” said Bradley.

 

“They go bowling together.”

 

“I’m trying to help you, Bradley.”

 

“Call the bowling alley

if you don’t believe me!”

 

“Okay, Bradley,” said Mrs. Ebbel,

and she let the matter drop.

 

Bradley returned to his seat,

glad that was over.

 

He glanced at Jeff,

surprised Jeff hadn’t

told on him.

 

As he scribbled

he kept thinking about

what Jeff had said to him.

 

Hey, Bradley,

wait up. Hi.

I don’t mind sitting

next to you. Really.

I have been

to the White House.

If you want,

I’ll tell you about it.

 

 

It confused him.

He understood it

when the other kids

were mean to him.

 

It didn’t bother him.

He simply hated them.

As long as he hated them,

it didn’t matter

what they thought of him.

 

 That was why

he had threatened

to spit on Jeff.

He had to hate Jeff

before Jeff hated him.

 

But now he was confused.

Hey, Bradley, wait up.

Hi. I don’t mind

sitting next to you.

Really.

 

The words rolled around

in his head

and banged

against his brain.

After school,

he followed Jeff

out the door.

“Hey, Jeff,” he called,

“wait up!”

 

Jeff turned,

then started to run,

but Bradley was faster.

 

He caught up to Jeff

at the corner

of the school building.

“I don’t have any more money,”

Jeff said nervously.

 

“I’ll give you a dollar

if you’ll be my friend,”

said Bradley.

 

He held out the dollar

Jeff had given him earlier.

Jeff slowly reached out,

then grabbed it.

 

Bradley smiled

his same twisted smile.

“Have you ever been

to the White House?”

he asked.

 

“Um…yes,” said Jeff.

 

“Me too!” said Bradley.

He turned and ran home