Th NGS Siac ee pete oa ye PG blackboards window. He felt its heat beat down upon his body and make him uncomfortable. He reached over his reading book which was lying on his desk in front of him, and he picked up his yellow pencil out of the pencil tray. He put the end in his mouth and rotated the pencil with his thumb and forefinger while he bit into the wood. He felt the yellow paint chip off the pencil and onto his tongue as he chewed. Rickle spit the chips out onto his desk and wiped his tongue with the palm of his hand. The sweat on his hand tasted salty, but he thought it was a better taste than the paint. He turned his head to the right and looked at Mike. Mike had his reading book open and standing in front of him on the scratched desk. He spied on Mike as he wrote somethink on his desk. ) Rickie leaned out over the aisle whispered to Mike, “Hey, Mike, what cha... what cha writing? Mike lifted his head and _ said, “Burd Turd’s a pig.” He ‘said it loud enough to make sure she heard him. Rickie watched as she turned her head and stuck her tounge out at Mike. She was short and pot-bellied. Her hair was a mixture of brown and blonde. It looked chop- ped, and it curled close to her head. The kids at school made fun of her cheeks © reddened, and she snapped her head back around. Mike then looked at Rickie and asked, “Hey, Rickie, ya gonna climb up to the hut and throw snowballs at that pig after school with us guys?” “I... I don’t wanna. I’ve got to get home right after school. Anyway ... the principal’s gonna catch you guys again, and I don’t wanna be around when he does and get in trouble,’ he stated and shook re Ne tt teSIS rere eee aa es The op eS blocks. SAREE cinder were smeared with chalk where they had been erased. The building had been army barracks during the second war. It had been converted into a school building and now was old and depleted. A patch of sunlight shone upon Rickie and his desk through the SOR EY oe The walls were pale gray and made of looked pe bet eN When Mike saw her stick out her tongue at him, he mimicked her and stuck out his. Then he said, “Turn around, ya ugly pig.” Her ii because of her homely looks. gem Burd Turd sat in front of him, and Mike sat to the side. The room was small and had old wooden floors. at Mike. “I am not,” he said bravely. Anyway my mother would kill me if I got caught,” ‘he said with his sudden bravery faltering. “Ah baloney,” Mike said. “You're just scared of the tree.” “Am not.” “Are so.” The boys retorted the phrases back at each other. Rickie heard the booming voice of Mr. Nelson demand, “Mike and Rickie, shut up and get to reading, or you'll both stay after school. I’ve heard enough from the two of you this morning.” | his head slowly. Mike looked puzzled by the statement, “The principal .. . ah baloney, he ain’t gonna catch us again.” “Oh, yea... my mother was talking to Burd Turd’s yesterday on tthe phone. Burd Turd’s mother was telling her about how her daughter comes home every day and tells her about you guys throwin’ snowballs at her. Her mother called the principal and griped. He’s out for you guys again. He’ll get ya when he drives past there on his way to school,” Rickie told Rickie watched as Mike dug deeper into the desk with his pencil. Mike looked at him again and said flatly, “You're chicken. You’re scared to climb the tree.” Rickie looked at the wooden floor and felt his stomach tighten. The words “climb the tree” came to his mind. He felt heat radiating from his body. He clenched his teeth and broke him, the and he fell fall with back and his hands. He felt the cold ice under his hands, and he quickly moved his feet back under him and stood up.The wind chilled his hands, and he shoved them into his pockets. He then began to walk down the path through the crusted snow. When he was past the tree, someone shouted, “Hey, where ya goin’ in such a big hurry, chicken?” He stopped and looked up. He saw Mike standing in the hut. “I’ve got to get to school,’ he said “I can’t climb the...” he’s just got to...to...get.., to ... School.” The boys laughed at the statement. “How do ya know all this?” Mike asked, “Because I listened on the other phone,” answered Rickie. “If he comes by we'll lay down ed. under “Listen to that,’ Mike joked to the others, “the chicken’s not scared,” Mike. flat on the hut, and he won’t see us. I’m not scared of him,’ Mike boast- fallen, but the ground was still covered with the old which melted slowly during the day and froze hard again at night. Rickie walked cautiously over tthe slick patch of ice on the bridge. His black boots had little grip, and he slipped. His feet slid out from Rickie didn’t look at him. He glanced quickly around the room and saw the kids staring at him. He slumped down in his seat and opened his book. Two days had passed. As before, Mike and the others who climbed the tree bothered and teased Rickie, and he again made excuses. It was now Friday, and the cold weather still lingered. The rising morning sun was bright, but its heat didn’t pierce the cold. No new snow had “I know. He’s not scared. He loves Burd Turd The Pig, I'll betcha,” Mike said and flung a snow ball at Rickie. The snowball fell short, and Rickie yelled at the laughing boys, “I do not. I hate that pig.” “Then why don’t ya climb up and prove it?” Mike dared him. “IT ...I1 will,’ Rickie stammered. He dropped his head and stared at the snow. He wondered why he had said what he did. He knew he couldn’t back out now. He had to. He walked over to the trunk of the tree and grabbed the first board step above his head. His stomach tighitened, and he pulled himself up and stepped on the bottom step. Rickie kept looking up. He climbed up two more steps and came to the