“You're the only kid in this whole durned school who's worth shooting.”
He wasn't sure, he thought her voice was quivering, but he wasn't going to start feeling sorry for her again.
“So shoot me,” he said. On the bus that afternoon he did something he had never thought he would do.
He sat down beside May Belle. It was the only way he could make sure that he wouldn’t have Leslie plunking herself down beside him.
Lord, the girl had no notion of what you did and didn’t do.
He stared out the window, but he knew she had come and was sitting across the aisle from them.
He heard her say “Jess” once, but the bus was noisy enough that he could pretend he hadn’t heard.
When they came to the stop, he grabbed May Belle’s hand and dragged her off, conscious that Leslie was right behind them.
But she didn’t try to speak to him again, nor did she follow them. She just took off running to the old Perkins place.
He couldn’t help turning to watch. She ran as though it was her nature.
It reminded him of the flight of wild ducks in the autumn. So smooth.
The word “beautiful” came to his mind, but he shook it away and hurried up toward the house.
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