Without thinking, I pushed him and he landed in his chair. “That’s not true and you know it. Not everyone goes around lying like you do, Eddie.”
Quick as lightning, he reached out a wiry arm and pushed me hard. I stumbled back against the wall, gasping when I realized that Jeremy was standing next to me. He put an arm around me to steady me.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He looked worried.
“I’m okay,” I said when I could catch my breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I had a feeling you’d be here. I didn’t want you to talk to him alone. I knew he’d try and hurt you. I just knew it.”
I watched my brother stride over to Eddie, looking like he was ready to punch him. I was amazed. Really amazed. Jeremy had come here to protect me! A warm feeling that had to be joy and pride and love all mixed together gushed over me.
“Isn’t that touching?” Eddie said sarcastically. “Brotherly love. Now if you’re finished checking up on each other, you can both leave. I have to study for a final.” He turned his back on us and began leafing through his notebook.
“First I want to know why you went around telling everyone in school that I spilled paint on those sets when I didn’t.”
When Eddie didn’t answer, Jeremy tapped him on the shoulder. Eddie spun around, shoving away his hand.
“Keep your lousy hands to yourself,” he shouted. “You re-tard.”
“Look who’s talking,” I shouted back. “Killing squirrels, ruining sets, spraying lockers. You have to be pretty sick to do those things, Gordon, pretty sick.”
“You better get out of here fast,” Eddie said, panting with fury, “or I’ll have my father throw you out.”
“I’d rather listen to what they have to say.”
We all turned, openmouthed. Mr. Gordon was standing in the doorway.
Oh, no, I thought, my heart sinking into my stomach. Now we were in for it. I knew from experience that parents resented being told that their kids did anything bad. And hadn’t Mr. Gordon told me on the phone that time that Eddie was really a good kid? I thought of making a break for it, but he blocked my path, arms crossed, his lips one straight line. Even in shorts and a polo shirt, Eddie’s father looked more like a sergeant than ever.
“Adam!”
I flinched as his steely gray eyes bore into me.
“I’d appreciate hearing from you exactly why you and Jeremy came to see Eddie.”
It was a command. I cleared my throat.
“Well,” I began, since there was nothing else I could do, “Eddie’s been telling all the kids in school—the junior high—that my brother ruined our sixth-grade sets—the ones Danny Martin and I made for our class play. But he didn’t. Ruin the sets. Jeremy didn’t, I mean,” I finished weakly.
Mr. Gordon shifted his gaze to Eddie. “Is that true? Have you been spreading this story?”
I looked at Eddie. His face had turned white and he kept swallowing as he stared down at his hands.
“I guess I told a few kids that he poured paint on the sets. Which he did,” he muttered resentfully.
“That’s a lie,” Jeremy sputtered. “You ruined them.”
“Yeah?” Eddie taunted him. “What about your ruler?”
“How did you know that Jeremy’s ruler was found in the auditorium?” I asked.
Eddie turned to me. His eyes blinked a few times. “My neighbor told me.”
“When?” I persisted.
“When, when?” he mimicked me. “I don’t remember when.”
“Nobody in our school knew anything about a ruler being found, but Mark said you were telling kids about it all day yesterday,” I said quietly.
Eddie looked from Jeremy to me. “You’re all just trying to get me in trouble—you two, Mark, and Danny.”
“How did you know about the ruler, Edward?” Mr. Gordon asked in a stern voice.
“I guess Doug Fioretti told me,” he mumbled so low I could hardly hear him.
“Shall we call him now and find out if he did?” Mr. Gordon said, hardly moving his lips as he spoke. He was trying to control his rage, but I could feel it, all bottled up and ready to explode. I shivered, wishing I was far away from Mr. Gordon, even though I knew he wasn’t angry at
me. For the first time I understood Eddie’s fear of his father.
Eddie stared at his father without speaking. He seemed to shrink into himself, to grow smaller.
“Well?” Mr. Gordon barked. “We’re waiting for your answer, Edward.”
Eddie just shook his head and hunched up into his chair.
“Did you have anything to do with the ruler?”
Head down, Eddie nodded.
“With the sets?”
Again he nodded.
“I want you to tell us about it.”
“I spilled paint on the sets,” Eddie mumbled. He covered his face, but not before I’d seen the tears running down his face.
“We can’t hear you,” Mr. Gordon said. “Speak up!”
Again I felt the urge to run out of the room, only I was glued to the floor where I stood.
“I spilled paint on the sets,” Eddie repeated a bit louder.
“And what about those other things Adam mentioned before? The dead squirrel and the locker business.”
Eddie started sobbing.
“Cut that out!”
Eddie got control of himself, then looked up, not caring anymore that we could all see that he was crying. “I found a dead squirrel,” he said, sniffling, “and put it on their doorstep because I was mad at Jeremy. And I sprayed Laura Lee’s locker, then put the container in Mark’s.” He huddled up against his desk and started sobbing again, this time quietly.
Mr. Gordon snorted in air, then he turned to Jeremy and me. “I’ll take care of this and notify the proper authorities, you can be sure.”
He nodded at each of us, his jaw clamped shut. We were dismissed.
Jeremy and I ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I could hear Eddie’s sobs growing louder the farther away we got. Poor Eddie, I thought.
* * *
We jumped on our bicycles and pedaled as fast as we could for home. I felt like we’d just escaped from a dragon. As we were about to pass a little park, I motioned to Jeremy to stop. We sat side by side on the grassy hill, neither of us wanting to talk. After a few minutes Jeremy broke the silence.
“That was some ugly scene,” he commented.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I thought I’d feel great, finally getting him to admit he’d done all those things. Only I don’t. I feel kind of bad.”
“Hm.” Jeremy put a blade of grass in his mouth and stared ahead at nothing I could see. “I almost feel kind of sorry for the creep,” he said.
I nodded, thinking the same thing. Gently, I punched Jeremy’s arm. “Thanks for coming by when you did. He was ready to go after me.”
“Yeah, just let him try it,” Jeremy growled. Then he grinned and did a most unexpected thing—he threw his arm around me.
“And I never got to thank you,” he said. “For sticking up for me. If it wasn’t for you—”
I was too embarrassed to let him finish. “Cut it out,” I said, standing up. “That’s what brothers are for. Come on, I have to get back to the sets. Everyone will think I’m just slacking off while they’re working their little tails off.”
“I’ll come and help you,” Jeremy offered.
I stared at him in surprise. Poor Jeremy. He thought I was about to tell him not to come.
“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll just help out where you and Danny need me.”
“Great idea!” I said loudly. “You could carry paint from one room to the other. And help us move the sets into the auditorium when we’re all finished.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Jeremy threw his leg over his bicycle. “The last one to the school is a rotten egg.”
I let him get a head start, knowing I could easily beat him if I w
anted to. But I wanted him to win this race. As I rode along, enjoying the cool breeze I made as I pedaled, I could feel the smile growing on my face. Maybe, just maybe, there was some hope that Jeremy and I could be friends. Kind of look out for each other and stuff like that. It wouldn’t be like my friendship with Danny or like it had been with Eddie. It would be different—not like most brothers, since we weren’t like most brothers—but special in its own way.
And Don't Bring Jeremy Page 10
