Window Boy (15 page)

As Sam and Ann start for the playground, Mrs. Martin looks up. “Ann? I need to talk to Sam,” Mrs. Martin says.

Ann pushes Sam over to Mrs. Martin’s desk. The surface is clear except for her grade book and an empty rose vase.

“Sam, would you like me to help you submit an essay for the League of Women Voters Contest?” Mrs. Martin asks. She takes off her glasses and begins polishing the lenses.

“YYYes,” Sam crows.

“All right,” Mrs. Martin says.

Without the glasses, Mrs. Martin’s face is more open, and Sam can see her brown eyes without the frame’s black bars. He thinks that his teacher actually looks pretty.

“We’ll start this afternoon,” Mrs. Martin smiles.

As Ann pushes Sam to the basketball court, the autumn leaves gust around them. The October day is cold, and Ann’s brown coat is buttoned to the top. But Sam doesn’t want to bother Ann by asking her to get out his blanket. When they pass the empty tetherball court, Sam realizes that Mickey still hasn’t shown up for class this morning.

Ann puts the chair in park and whispers, “I’ll be back.” He watches her run down the path towards Marigold.

“O.K. team. Let’s go!” Charlie shouts. “We’ve got another game today. Another chance for an upset victory.”

Charlie misses a rebound.

As the basketball rolls off the court, Sam thinks,
come towards me
. The ball zigzags for a bit but, just as he had hoped, it stops next to his chair. He stretches his foot out to touch it. As the tip of his shoe rests for a brief moment on the ball, Sam thinks, anything is possible.

Charlie reaches down to pick it up. To get Charlie’s attention, Sam grunts. Holding the ball in his hand, Charlie’s eyes meet Sam’s for an instant. They match his reddish-brown freckles.

Sam is too cold to trust his tongue to talk, but the cards Ann made for him are laid out on his tray. With his finger, Sam taps, “Tomcats Score!”

Charlie wipes his dripping nose with his sleeve and smiles. When he says, “Thanks,” his breath comes out in a puff. He starts to back away but stops. “You’re our cheerleader, Sam.”

Sam can’t say,
Make me your coach.
The moment passes too fast.

Chapter Twenty-Two

After recess, Mrs. Martin starts writing the vocabulary words on the blackboard:

Interpretation.

Determination.

Character.

Sam is a whiz at vocabulary and memorizes their definitions even before she lifts the piece of chalk from the last word.

When the school secretary totters into the classroom with a note for Mrs. Martin, the class’ attention turns towards the door. Today, both her high heels and her tight skirt complicate walking.

The secretary hands Mrs. Martin a note. “Principal Cullen would like to see one of your students,” she says before leaving.

As Mrs. Martin reads the note, everyone’s gaze automatically turns to Mickey. But his seat is empty. Sam senses the confusion in the room. If Mickey is gone, who does the principal want?

Mrs. Martin puts down her piece of chalk and reads the note. “Ann, will you take Sam to Principal Cullen’s office?”

Me? Although Sam has seen Principal Cullen in the hallway, he has never met him. Why would the principal want him to come to his office? Even though he knows that he hasn’t done anything wrong, he wishes that Miss Perkins were here.

“Sure,” Ann says. She hurries to Sam and a few seconds later maneuvers him neatly through the doorway.

In the hallway, Ann points at one of the cards on Sam’s tray.

“Hope you have a good day,” it reads.

Sam points at the same card: “Hope you have a good day.”

Ann must be happy today because she starts laughing.

Suddenly, Sam feels like laughing, too. But he stops himself. He’s too embarrassed.

“You feel silly, too, don’t you, Sam?” Ann says.

Sam’s pent-up laughter bursts forth. He thinks that he sounds like a small dog barking or a kid whose hiccups have run away with him, but Ann doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual. She joins in until finally she stops to try to catch her breath. “I’m so glad that you can laugh.” She pauses. “Can you cry?” she says.

I’m not a rock
, Sam thinks, but he doesn’t believe it’s manly to admit to crying. “No,” he lies.

“Not even when something really bad happens to you?” When Ann bends down towards him, she looks so worried that Sam laughs again.

“I didn’t know,” Ann says.

Their carefree mood ends when they find themselves staring at the big wooden door to the principal’s office. Ann opens it with one hand and awkwardly pushes Sam through.

The secretary is busy typing. A nameplate on her desk reads, “Miss Valerie Rawles.”

“Principal Cullen is busy right now,” Miss Rawles says. “Leave the boy there.”

Ann parks his chair. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for you,” she promises.

Miss Rawles returns to her typing, and Sam examines the room. Spare and plain. It looks like a doctor’s office, but with no hint that it has anything to do with kids.

Click. Click. Click. Sam likes the typewriter’s rhythm. He is still wondering why the principal wants to see him when he becomes aware of some odd sounds coming from behind the closed door.

He hears thuds, then whimpers, and occasionally a cry. Before he has time to figure out how to communicate to Miss Rawles that something is wrong, the door bursts open, and Mickey Kotov barrels out. His face is blotched. His eyes are teary, and his shirt hangs over his pants.

Principal Cullen stands at the door, holding an enormous paddle. It’s bigger than the Ping Pong paddles that Sam has seen on television, and one side is covered in worn sandpaper. “Tomorrow, if you’re late, I’m going to double the number of swats again.”

Mickey glares at Sam before running out of the room.

Why do you dislike me?
Sam wants to call after him.
I haven’t done anything to you.

After Principal Cullen hangs the oversize paddle on a hook on the wall, he steps out of his office doorway and faces Sam. Sam can’t help admiring Principal Cullen’s soldierly posture and crew cut. Sam wonders whether he fought in World War II.

Principal Cullen nods. He is wearing slacks and a button-down cotton shirt with a navy blue tie. His black eyes examine Sam for so long that he begins to feel embarrassed.

“Hello, Mr. Davis,” Principal Cullen says. “I’ve seen you a few times in the halls, but I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. I’m Principal Cullen. Come in.”

Miss Rawles stops typing and looks up. “A girl pushed him here. I don’t think that he can.”

Of course, Sam could operate his wheelchair if Ann hadn’t been diligent and engaged the brake, but he doesn’t think that he should argue with the secretary.

“Miss Rawles, will you escort Mr. Davis into my office and take notes while I interview him?” Principal Cullen says.

Miss Rawles pushes Sam into the principal’s office, parks him across from his desk and closes the door. Principal Cullen’s office is small, with a large desk and a bookcase. Its bareness causes the paddle, hanging next to a diploma on the wall, to stand out.

Miss Rawles sits down in a chair and immediately starts scribbling on her pad.
What are you writing?
Sam wonders.

“Your mother promised that your nurse would accompany you every day. Where is she?” Principal Cullen asks. Sam knows that he and Miss Perkins are in some kind of trouble.

That morning, Miss Perkins had surprised Sam by telling him that she had to go to the doctor’s. Sam doubts whether he can make the principal understand his version of the word ‘doctor.’ Enunciating a “d” and a “t” in one small word is difficult. So he takes a deep breath.

“GGGone.” It’s a fair imitation, Sam thinks.

The principal frowns at Sam. “Hum.” His fingers form a bridge as he stares at the ceiling for a moment. He looks around his office and grabs a dictionary from his bookshelf. He opens it, and walks over to Sam and presses it close to his face. The principal is a big man, and he has to bend over to press the book close to Sam’s face. “Tell me, Mr. Davis. Can you read this?”

The print is too tiny—too small for Sam to see. “NNNo,” he says. Since he misses Miss Perkins, he adds as she has taught him, “SSir.” But he’s not feeling respectful. He’s feeling angry.

Principal Cullen shakes his head and looks at the secretary who is busy writing. “Did you get that, Miss Rawles?”

Miss Rawles looks up. “Yes.”

Sam wants to tell Principal Cullen that he can read big type. To make his point, he tries to show the principal the cards that Ann designed for him, but in his excitement he loses control of his hand and pounds his tray.

Principal Cullen shoots him an annoyed glance.

“I understand the parents’ concerns, all right,” Principal Cullen says to Miss Rawles.

Sam gives up on showing Principal Cullen the cards.

Principal Cullen smiles. “I think I have a simple solution to the problem.” He turns to Sam. “Mr. Davis, I believe that you belong in a special school.”

Special school?

Sam shudders. All of a sudden, Sam is certain that any school that Principal Cullen thinks is special, he is sure to find especially awful. “SSSchool good.”

Principal Cullen gives a hearty laugh. “I think you’ll like being with kids of your own ability even more.”

Sam wants to tell Principal Cullen how much he respects Mrs. Martin. “LLLike tteacher,” he says. But he can tell that the principal isn’t listening.

“Miss Rawles,” Principal Cullen says. “Go ahead and take Mr. Davis back to Mrs. Martin’s class.”

‘Yes, sir,” Miss Rawles says.

Principal Cullen sits down behind the large desk. “Good to meet you, young man, and good luck,” he says.

Sam is used to people not understanding him. But Principal Cullen is an educator. Sam’s not sure what he expected, but he feels a deep disappointment.

Miss Rawles drops her notebook on Sam’s tray. She disengages his brake and begins pushing him back to class.

Sam can’t help reading her childishly large handwriting: “EXIT INTERVIEW WITH S. DAVIS. WITNESS V. RAWLES. CAN’T TALK. CAN’T READ. NOT ON GRADE LEVEL.”

Sam has been unfairly judged and has been found wanting. Without even practicing his sentence in his head, he protests, “IIII…can…read.”

Miss Rawles doesn’t answer. Instead, she snatches her notebook from the tray and pockets it.

When they arrive at Classroom 114, Miss Rawles tries to force Sam’s chair through the door. He has to pull his feet out of the way so that his toes won’t hit the frame.

In her final maneuver, Miss Rawles slams her hand. “Darn you,” she exclaims.

Sam doesn’t know if she’s angry with him or the door.

As they enter, the kids’ eyes are trained on him. He has to use every ounce of self-control to keep himself from screaming,
Darn you, too.

Chapter Twenty-Three

After class is dismissed for lunch, Mrs. Martin approaches Sam. When she leans down next to him, he notices dark circles under her eyes. “Sam, I’ve got to make a phone call to check on my twins. A horrible bug is going around, and my daughter caught it. Miss Perkins said she would be back for lunch. Are you O.K. if I leave you alone for just a minute?”

Ann has already gone. Sam looks doubtfully around at the empty classroom, but he finds the courage to say, “YYes.”

“You need to practice talking more. You’re really good,” Mrs. Martin says.

“TTThanks,” Sam says.

Mrs. Martin smiles at him. “Miss Perkins says that you can stand and walk a few steps. You ought to practice walking, also.”

Sam doesn’t like to walk. He’s heard too often that he might fall and break his leg.

Mrs. Martin yawns. “I hate to leave you alone, but I’ll check on you soon,” she promises as she walks out the door.

Sam looks at the clock. It says 12:06.

Miss Perkins is never late to important stuff like lunches. Could she have gotten in an accident?

If something awful has happened, Sam wonders how long he will sit next to the potted plants before someone notices him. Will Mrs. Martin remember to come back? Who will take him to the restroom? Since the class doesn’t have an afternoon break, Ann won’t be able to speak to him. Sam doesn’t want to be alone. He might think about Principal Cullen’s paddle. The pleased way the principal had said the words “special school.”