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“Sure, Paul,” said Leslie.
They were alone in the room. All the other kids had rushed down the stairs. Mrs. Jewls had run to the teachers’ lounge.
“I’ve been good, right?” asked Paul. “I haven’t pulled one of your pigtails in a long time, have I?”
“So what do you want, a medal?” asked Leslie.
Paul chuckled. “No, well, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Leslie.
Paul took a breath. “May I pull just one of your pigtails?” he asked. “Please?”
“No!” said Leslie.
“Please?” Paul begged. “I won’t pull it hard. No one will have to know. Please? Please? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important! Please?”
“You’re sick!” exclaimed Leslie.
Paul lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I won’t ask again.”
“Good,” said Leslie. She shook her head in disgust.
Paul watched her pigtails waggle. “Can I just touch one?” he asked. “I won’t even pull it. I promise.”
“No!”
“What’s wrong with just touching one?” Paul asked.
“Yuck, you’re gross!” said Leslie as she turned and marched out of the room.
As Paul watched her go, her pigtails seemed to wave good-bye to him.
He slapped himself in the face with both hands. What’s wrong with me? he wondered.
He walked to the side of the room and leaned over the counter. He stuck his head out the window to get some fresh air. Down below, he could see the kids playing on the playground. They looked like tiny toys.
Leslie stepped back into the classroom. “I’m getting my hair trimmed tomorrow,” she announced. “If you want, I’ll save the pieces for you. It’ll just be some split ends.”
Paul was so excited he forgot where he was. He quickly raised his head. It bashed against the window frame, then he bounced forward and toppled out the window.
Leslie stared in horror at the open window, then rushed toward it. She leaned over the counter and looked down.
“Help!” gasped Paul.
There was one brick on the side of the building that stuck out a little farther than the others. Paul desperately held on to it with both hands.
“I’ll go get Louis,” said Leslie. “He’ll save you.”
“No, don’t go!” cried Paul. “I can’t hold on. My fingers are slipping!”
Leslie reached down for him. “Try to grab my hand,” she said.
Paul made a grab for it, but missed, then quickly clutched the brick. “I can’t! Help, I’m scared.”
“Just don’t look down,” said Leslie as she tried to stay calm. She pulled her head back in through the window.
“Where are you going!” cried Paul. “Help! Don’t leave me.”
