Window Boy by Andrea White Read Free Book Online Page B

Like Ann, she has blonde hair, but she wears hers in a ponytail. She’s shaped like a torpedo, and her blue corduroy dress is tight around the waist. “Ann?” she calls out. Since Sam senses that Marigold is afraid of him, he doesn’t like her.
    “Come on in,” Ann calls to her.
    Marigold shakes her head before disappearing.
    “Why won’t your friend come in?” Miss Perkins asks. “We don’t bite.”
    “She’s shy,” Ann explains. “Miss Perkins, I need to go to recess with Marigold. We’re practicing a dance routine.”
    “I understand, Ann,” Miss Perkins says.
    “But tell Sam,” Ann says to her as if Sam weren’t in the room. You already told me, Sam thinks.
    “That I’ll come again soon.” Ann pauses. “Maybe not tomorrow.” She shakes her head. “But sometime.”
    “That will be nice,” Miss Perkins says.
    “I’ll think up some more questions for him,” Ann says.
    Like what’s two plus two? Sam can’t help but feel grouchy.
    “That will be wonderful, dear,” Miss Perkins says.
    Ann runs out the room.
    I had a hard time with girls, also , Winnie admits.
    Girls didn’t ask you baby questions to find out if you were retarded , Sam points out.
    True , Winnie answers. But once a lady told me that she hated my mustache and my politics. I told her that there was absolutely no reason that she should touch either. 6
    I just wish that the inside of me was outside so everyone could know me , Sam says.
    We all do, Sam.

Chapter Ten

    For Miss Perkins’ day off—Sunday—Sam and his mother have a routine. If it’s not raining, they go to Paul Revere park and sit outside while his mother reads her newspaper. Sam enjoys the sun on his face and the smell of fresh grass while he listens to his mother comment on the news.
    “This Vietnam War is horrible, Sam. Over 500 men died this month. Not just kids. But men as old as me. And no halt to the bombings.” After she tells him the latest news, she always pauses, contemplating. “That’s why I can’t meet any nice men. They’re all dying in Vietnam.”
    If it’s raining, they watch cartoons on television. His mother enjoys Bugs Bunny more than he does. Or they listen to music on the radio. His mother’s favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney. She likes him because of his soft eyes. She sings along with all their songs, but her favorite is “All You Need Is Love.”
    Sam and his mother have their own secret which they keep from Miss Perkins: jelly donuts. Miss Perkins scolds his mother. “Jelly donuts aren’t nutritious. Just fix the boy a bowl of cereal.”
    But this Sunday morning feels a little different. His mother wets his hair and combs it for the second or third time. She buttons the top button on his shirt and insists that he wear his blue jacket even though it is small and uncomfortable.
    His mother steps back and takes a hard look at him. “Ready,” she says finally.
    I was ready a long time ago, Sam thinks resentfully as she pushes him out the door onto Elm Street. They are headed for the Corner Market where she buys her paper.
    Neither of them are morning people, and usually they enjoy the Sunday quiet. But this morning his mother is talking, and her constant stream of advice is giving him a headache. “People, especially men, like polite boys, Sam. I hope that you will always do your best to be polite…”
    The spire of their church appears in the distance. It’s the tallest building on the block with a stained glass window of the disciple Paul. His mother chose this church because it’s the only one in their neighborhood with an entrance ramp.
    “We should go back to Sunday school. How long has it been since we’ve been there? Two months?” his mother continues.
    Sam isn’t sorry that his mother hasn’t taken him to church lately. Too many old ladies like to pat his cheek and call him a “brave boy.”
    She pushes him through the front door of Corner Market.
    A man standing at the magazine rack whips around when they