half expecting to see her running up across the field, her lovely, even, rhythmic run.
Maybe she was already at school—Bill had dropped her off, as he did some days when she was late for the bus—
but then when Jess came into the room, her desk was no longer there.
Why were they all in such a rush to be rid of her? He put his head down on his own desk, his whole body heavy and cold.
He could hear the sounds of the whispers but not the words. Not that he wanted to hear the words.
He was suddenly ashamed that he’d thought he might be regarded with respect by the other kids.
Trying to profit for himself from Leslie’s death. I wanted to be the best—the fastest runner in the school—and now I am.
Lord, he made himself sick. He didn’t care what the others said or what they thought,
just as long as they left him alone—just so long as he didn’t have to talk to them or meet their stares.
They had all hated Leslie. Except maybe Janice. Even after they’d given up trying to make Leslie miserable,
they’d kept on despising her—as though there was one of them worth the nail on Leslie’s little toe.
And even he himself had entertained the traitorous thought that now he would be the fastest.
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