He couldn't look Mrs. Myers straight in her pudgy face. He'd crack up.
He set his sight on her uneven hemline. “Yes'm.” He was going to have to get coaching from Leslie.
Mrs. Myers always caught him when his mind was on vacation, but she never seemed to suspect Leslie of not paying attention.
He sneaked a glance up that way. Leslie was totally absorbed in her geography book, or so it would appear to anyone who didn't know.
Terabithia was cold in November. They didn't dare build a fire in the castle, though sometimes they would build one outside and huddle around it.
For a while Leslie had been able to keep two sleeping bags in the stronghold,
but around the first of December her father noticed their absence, and she had to take them back.
Actually, Jess made her take them back. It was not that he was afraid of the Burkes exactly.
Leslie's parents were young, with straight white teeth and lots of hair—both of them.
Leslie called them Judy and Bill, which bothered Jess more than he wanted it to.
It was none of his business what Leslie called her parents. But he just couldn't get used to it.
Both of the Burkes were writers. Mrs. Burke wrote novels and, according to Leslie, was more famous than Mr. Burke, who wrote about politics.
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