Window Boy by Andrea White Read Free Book Online Page A

a few days— not long enough to learn such bad manners.”
    Mister John smiles. “None of the kids want haircuts these days. Their attitude is bad for my business.” He shrugs. “But what can I do? You’ve got to change with the times.”
    On the screen, the police are dragging the protesters away and throwing them in a paddy wagon.
    “Well, my goodness,” Miss Perkins says. “I never thought….”
    “If you don’t mind me saying so, Abigail, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t put Sam into the world and ask him not to try to fit in it.”
    Sam looks at her. His grin is more crooked than usual. “PPPlease…”
    Slowly, Miss Perkins nods her head. “I suppose we can wait another week,” she says slowly.
    Mister John holds the door for them. “I hate to say this, Abigail. But don’t come back too soon.”

Chapter Nine

    It’s Monday, Sam’s second week of school. Although a few kids have smiled at him, besides Ann, no one has talked to him. Ann hasn’t spoken to him since last Wednesday when she had a conversation with Miss Perkins. “My mother’s in charge of the bake sale. She’s the president of the PTA. They’re trying to raise money for coaches. Even uniforms.” Afterwards, she had mumbled a few words to Sam along the lines of, “We got the meanest teacher in the Sixth Grade. I wish I had Mrs. Smith.”
    The recess bell rings.
    Ann shoves her books in her desk and wanders near Sam. She is standing with her hands at her side as if she wants to start a conversation but is too shy, which is funny because he has heard the boys call Ann “bossy.”
    Sam feels his feet and fingers tingle with excitement.
    “Ann,” Miss Perkins calls. “Do you mind watching Sam while I go to the restroom?”
    “Sure,” Ann answers. She hurries over to the science table and sits down in Miss Perkins’ chair. She turns and looks eagerly at him. Sam has seen this same expression many times before, sort of curious and a little malicious. When Sam’s cousins came for their first visit, Josh, the oldest one, had looked at him like this, too. When Miss Perkins left them alone, Josh had begun firing questions at him. At first, Sam didn’t understand why. Then, he realized that Josh was trying to figure out if he was retarded.
    “How many potted plants do we have?” Ann asks.
    Of course, eleven potted plants sit on the table next to Sam. It’s easier to sign numbers than to try to get his tongue wrapped around them, and Sam is often lazy in the morning. After a good night’s sleep, it takes him a while to get used to the limitations of his body again. As Sam slaps one finger then another on his tray, he feels like he’s a trained dog.
    “Are you saying eleven?” Ann asks.
    Sam looks up.
    “So you can count?” Ann asks.
    He looks up again.
    Ann places her finger on the side of her cheek. “Let me think of a harder question. How many desks are there in the room?”
    Sam says “thirty,” and for extra measure, he holds up three fingers and then makes the best zero that he can. Ann points to each desk, counting.
    “You’re right,” she murmurs.
    Sam’s glad that she seems to have run out of questions. To try to put an end to the game, he breaks the silence, “WWhenn’s your bbirthday?”
    “In May,” Ann says.
    “MMMee too,” Sam says. “MMMine is May 10th.”
    “Mine is May 17th,” Ann says.
    Sam points at himself. “LLLLike sharing May bbbbirthdays.”
    Ann giggles.
    Miss Perkins ambles back in the room.
    “I’m starting to understand him a little better. He said that we were both born in the same month,” Ann announces.
    Sam hates when people talk about him as if he weren’t in the room. If his mother or Miss Perkins commits this offense, he puckers his lips just right and tries to form spit bubbles. When they are nice and juicy, he lets them loose on his lips. But since he’s new at school, he decides to let Ann’s crime pass unpunished.
    Marigold Green pokes her head into the room.