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Scott certainly had more than his share of those and, in fact, was on probation.
I could see that some of his friends were trying to encourage him to do something outrageous. They loved seeing someone else get into trouble. Their catcalls and challenges were making Scott's cheeks crimson. Mr. Anderson eyed him suspiciously, looking as if he was just waiting to pounce. I wandered close to Scott and said. 'Don't let them get you in trouble...
He tamed, his blond eyebrows lifted with surprise. Everyone thought he resembled the illustration of Huckleberry Finn that was on the cover of the copy in our library. He had hair that jetted up and out and was kept short. He had the same impish eves, with a face spotted with freckles, and lips the color of orange sherbet. In an instant he could look sweet and innocent, but as soon as the teacher's eyes shifted away, he could turn into an imp with eyes full of mischief.
"If they were really your friends, they wouldn't be doing that," I added.
"I know." he said. "They don't bother me." "Good," I muttered, and looked away.
"How come You're not hangin. out with Madonna and her friends?" he asked me, referring to Selma Thursten, whose parents had permitted her to put a ring in her navel. She already had the suggestion of an oncoming bosom and wore tight pants with blouses that showed some midriff, especially after she acquired the ring. Scott often teased her by
threatening to stick his pinky finger through it and rip it away. Anyone could see she enjoyed being teased and screaming at him whenever he did it in our halls and school classrooms.
I shrugged. "I don't think she's anyone special," I told him.
He liked that, "She isn't. You're more special than she is." he added, surprising me.
"I am?"
"Sure," he said. He picked up a rock and threw it dangerously close to Mr. Anderson, who didn't see it.
"Why do you do things like that?" I asked him.
"Do what?"
"Take such chances of getting into more trouble?"
"Nothing better to do." he quipped, but then looked quickly to see how I reacted. I smirked. "I don't know." he added, and looked a little remorseful. Then, as if he felt he was showing some sign of weakness, he added. "Why do you care if I get in trouble or not? I'm not one of your precious friends, am I?"
/> "I don't have any precious friends." I hesitated and then, after a deep breath. said. "I found out something terrible about myself." Then I thought terrible might not be the right word to use, especially with him. "Secret, I mean."
"What's that?"
"If I tell you, will you swear you will keep it a secret?"
"No," he said.
I looked away.
"All right. I swear, but it better be good, real good." Then he thought again and asked. "Why are you telling me anyway?"
I looked at him, my eyes small, but dark and firm enough to impress him.
"Because you're the only one I know who might understand." I said.
His curiosity whetted, he softened his posture and looked very serious and interested,
"Why?"
"Because you're adopted."
"So?"
"I'm adopted. too. That's what I found out," I told him.
His first reaction was to look skeptical and even threaten to laugh out loud. but the expression on my face stopped him and brought him closer to ine.
"True?"
