Plodding up the hill through the mud and beaten-down grasses, he slammed his bare feet down hard.
Left, left, he addressed them inside his head. Left my wife and forty-nine children without any gingerbread, think I did right?
Right. Right by my...Why don't we change our clothes and watch TV or something over at your house?
He felt like hugging her. “I'll make us some coffee,” he said joyfully.
“Yuk,” she said smiling and began to run for the old Perkins place, that beautiful, graceful run of hers that neither mud nor water could defeat.
It had seemed to Jess when he went to bed Wednesday night that he could relax, that everything was going to be all right,
but he awoke in the middle of the night with the horrible realization that it was still raining.
He would just have to tell Leslie that he wouldn't go to Terabithia.
After all, she had told him that when she was working on the house with Bill. And he hadn't questioned her.
It wasn't so much that he minded telling Leslie that he was afraid to go; it was that he minded being afraid.
It was as though he had been made with a great piece missing—
one of May Belle's puzzles with this huge gap where somebody's eye and cheek and jaw should have been.
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