Running Barefoot by Amy Harmon Read Free Book Online

the action, witnessing the fist fight firsthand.
    “Mr. Bracken is coming!” a frantic shout went up across the field. Mr.Bracken was the Principal of the high school, and was a pretty genial and likeable sort, but no one doubted that anyone found fighting would be expelled upon discovery. The kids scattered immediately, not wanting to be questioned or reprimanded, and descended upon the bus stop in droves. The bus lumbered to a stop and a hasty lined formed, kids shoving and jostling for position. I was not aggressive enough to maintain my place in the line, and fell back to wait until the writhing mass thinned.
    Tara came running towards me, back pack bobbing, hands hanging onto her thick shoulder straps to keep it in place.
    “Oh my gosh!” Tara gushed when she was still several feet away. “That Indian kid was fighting three different boys. Joby Jenkins and a couple of his friends were calling him half-breed and he went crazy. Joby’s friends tried to hold his arms but he just let loose, swinging at all of them. One guy has a chipped tooth and Joby has a bloody nose. The Indian kid must have caught his hand on the kid’s tooth because his hand was all bloody!”
    Tara was using too many pronouns, so I wasn’t sure which injury belonged to whom, and which guy had done most of the swinging, but mystomach lurched at the mention of “the Indian kid.” That could only be Samuel.
    “Where are they now?” My eyes scanned the area where the circle around the fighters had formed, not seeing Samuel, Joby, or Mr. Bracken, for that matter.
    “When someone yelled that the principal was coming, Joby and his friends took off towards the junior high. The Indian kid picked up his back pack and headed this way with everybody that was running towards the bus. I don’t know where he went…” She looked around, jumping up and down to gain enough height to see over the swarm of kids. “I don’t know if Mr. Bracken was actually even coming - somebody might have yelled that just to stop the fight.”
    “So you never saw Mr. Bracken?” I hoped Samuel wouldn’t end up expelled. Word usually made its way around, news of the fight would fill the halls tomorrow, but maybe if he made it home without being caught, the principal might not get wind of it until after the fact, making expulsion less likely.
    The bus had quickly inhaled her anxious passengers, and Tara and I climbed up the steep steps, Tara chattering all the way.
    “There was so much blood! The Indian kid -”
    “Samuel! His name is Samuel,” I interrupted her.
    “Whatever!” Tara gestured impatiently, obviously not caring what his name was.
    When I climbed to the highest stair and was able to see down the aisle, my eyes rushed to my seat. Samuel was there, eyes glued out the window, probably watching to see if he’d make it home free. Tara continued talking, but I was no longer listening. I wondered how he’d gotten past the bus driver without detection. I teetered down the aisle, and swung in next to Samuel, my heavy pack sliding to the floor.
    “Are you okay?” I asked breathlessly. Samuel had pulled his arm out of the sleeve of his t-shirt, and buttoned his coat over his t-shirt. I could see blood on his pants, and as I tried to get a good look at his turned away face, I realized his lip was swollen and split as well.
    “I’m fine,” Samuel said tersely, keeping his face averted.
    “If you don’t stop the bleeding you’re going to give yourself away,” I insisted.
    Samuel sighed in exasperation and, with one hand, unbuttoned his jean jacket. He’d wrapped his hand in the bottom of his t-shirt, baring his toned brown stomach. The light blue cotton was completely soaked through with blood.
    “Oh my gosh!” I sounded like Tara, but I couldn’t help it. He must have laid his knuckles open.
    “I’ll be right back!” I headed back up the aisle. The bus was now in motion and Mr. Walker barked at me to sit down. I ignored him, walking purposefully,