Window Boy (16 page)

Mickey Kotov walks by and glances into the classroom.

Miss Perkins always says, “Be careful what you wish for.” As if he were on the basketball court, Mickey pivots and makes a fast break toward Sam.

Sam had wished for company, but he’s attracted the wrong kind.

Mickey’s T-shirt still hangs loose from his visit to the principal’s office. Sam wants to sympathize. He longs to say,
Principal Cullen is a bully,
but Mickey doesn’t give him a chance. As he strides over to Sam, Mickey starts talking so fast that spit shoots out of his mouth.

“I warned you, didn’t I? Why do you keep spying on me, Vindow Boy?”

Vindow Boy?
At first, Sam doesn’t understand Mickey’s funny accent. Then, it occurs to him that Mickey is saying, Window Boy. So Mickey has seen him at night.

“I know you want to play. You ever arm-vrestled?” Without waiting for an answer, Mickey says, “It’s fun.”

When Sam doesn’t move, Mickey continues, “I bet your spazzy hand can grab mine.” He puts his elbow down on Sam’s tray and says, “O.K., now let’s go over the rrrules.”

Sam would rather have a broken leg than a broken right pointer finger. If Mickey breaks a bone, he worries that his finger will never work as well again. As he pulls it toward his chest, his heart begins fluttering. Who will he be without his finger? He uses it to write. It’s his only way to communicate complicated thoughts.

Mickey leans towards Sam.

Sam wants to beg Mickey to spare his right hand, but he’s breathing too hard to attempt speech.

“Hold out your hand,” Mickey repeats his command.

When Sam really concentrates, sometimes, he can propel his legs into a flurry of activity, perhaps just confusing and chaotic enough to scare this boy away. Just as he starts to will his legs to kick, Sam hears someone enter the room. He prays that it’s his dear sweet Miss Perkins.

Mickey turns toward the noise.

Charlie Simmons is standing in the doorway. He’s much taller and stockier than Mickey. While Mickey’s hair is shaggy, Charlie’s is neatly brushed and oiled. “What rules?” he asks.

Mickey sneers. “Old Sam and I are arm wrestling. You want to try to beat me, too?”

Sam’s heart thumps in his chest. What if Charlie doesn’t understand? What if he thinks that Sam wants to play Mickey’s game?

Charlie’s gaze seeks out Sam. In response, Sam puts all his fear and frustration into a backward roll of his eyes.

Charlie steps inside the room. “You leave Sam alone,” he orders Mickey.

“You think you’re so great! You and that loser basketball team” Mickey shouts.

Charlie clenches his fists and rushes towards Mickey.

Mickey swings at him and misses.

Charlie rams Mickey into Mrs. Martin’s desk. It shifts a few inches to the left, and her empty flower vase clangs on the desktop.

Mickey jumps forward. His hands are balled into fists, ready to fight.

Charlie charges again.

Sam thinks of Mickey’s sweaty face when he was leaving the principal’s office and his untucked shirt. He remembers Mickey’s moans as he was getting beaten. Even though Mickey is mean, he can’t bear to think that Mickey will get swatted again. In fact, both Charlie and Mickey are going to get into trouble.

Sam takes a deep breath. “NNNo!” he thunders.

Mickey’s fist freezes in midair. His mouth hangs open in surprise.

Sam remembers that Mickey hadn’t been in class the day that he spoke out in history. Sam knows that Mickey never talks to the other kids. Maybe Mickey hasn’t figured out that Sam can speak.

“Yeah.” Charlie reacts to the astonishment written all over Mickey’s face. “He can talk. He’s a real person, not just a lump in a wheelchair.”

It’s then that Sam realizes that this is the moment that he’s dreamed of for so long. He has the attention of both Mickey Kotov and Charlie Simmons.

He remembers Winnie’s good advice:
Right now, your purpose is to get Mickey Kotov on that basketball team.

Sam has never practiced the words “point guard.” He doubts whether either of the boys will understand him, but he aims his finger at Mickey, anyway. He does his best to force his tongue to say the words, “ppynt gaaard.”

Both of the boys stare at Sam as if he were a lunatic, but Charlie drops his hand from Mickey’s collar.

Mickey’s fists hang by his side.

Charlie wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Is he saying point guard?” he asks Mickey.

“That’s my position at my old skool,” Mickey says. “How did he know?”

Charlie shrugs. “Beats me.”

“Ppynt gaaard,” Sam insists as Miss Perkins bustles through the door. He has lots more advice:
Not only that, Charlie, you should be center. You should stay down low and get rebounds. You can’t dribble.

Miss Perkins’ mouth forms an “O” as she takes in the sight of the boys’ rumpled shirts and tousled hair.

Miss Perkins touches each boy lightly on the shoulders as she passes. She picks up the fallen vase and rights it on the desk. “You two need to go play in the cafeteria.” She hurries over to Sam. “I’m so sorry. It’s raining. The buses were late. But I’m here now. Not to worry.”

Charlie casts a protective glance in Sam’s direction.

Sam smiles at him. “TThanks.”

Mickey rushes out the door. Perhaps he is afraid that Miss Perkins will report him to the principal.

Charlie follows at a slower pace. He seems to want to talk but all he says is, “See you on the court, Sam.”

When Miss Perkins sits down next to Sam, she pulls his lunch sack from The Suitcase. She gets out a jar of mashed potatoes and digs for the spoon.

Sam waits patiently. He’s glad that Miss Perkins hasn’t been in an accident, but he can’t help wishing that she had arrived just a few minutes later. He was on the verge of something. On the verge of fulfilling his purpose—the purpose that Winnie had talked to him about. And now his chance is ruined.

Chapter Twenty-Four

After school, Sam begins work with Mrs. Martin, Miss Perkins hovering anxiously over him. Although when Mickey had been about to break his hand and he had desperately wanted to see his caretaker, now he wishes that she would have another doctor’s appointment.

“Your essay has to be about a wartime hero. I assume you want to write about Churchill,” Mrs. Martin says. She takes a sip of hot coffee out of her Styrofoam cup.

“I’m sure that’s right,” Miss Perkins breaks in.

Sam knows that Miss Perkins is excited for him to get a chance to show Mrs. Martin all he knows. So why won’t she let him do the talking?

“Sam?” Mrs. Martin repeats her question.

“YYess,” Sam says eagerly.

“Let’s start with a title,” Mrs. Martin says.

“If you move the alphabet sheet closer, he can reach it easier,” Miss Perkins points out.

After shooting a glance at Miss Perkins, Mrs. Martin moves the alphabet sheet closer to Sam.

“I can write down the letters for you,” Miss Perkins offers.

Mrs. Martin turns and looks at her hard. Miss Perkins is just trying to be helpful, but Sam senses that Mrs. Martin wishes that Miss Perkins would be quiet, too.

“I’ve got an idea,” Mrs. Martin says. “Doesn’t Sam live close by?”

Miss Perkins nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Let me have Sam for the afternoon.” Mrs. Martin looks at her watch. “Would you mind coming back in an hour?”

Sam grins at Miss Perkins to show her that this plan is fine with him.

“That would be a real help,” Miss Perkins says. “I could use the time on my chores. I’ll be back at 4:30.”

“Don’t be late. My mother says my daughter is doing better, thank goodness. But I need to get home,” Mrs. Martin says.

“I’ll be right on time,” Miss Perkins says.

Mrs. Martin mutters to herself, “Maybe starting with the title is too hard.”

Miss Perkins picks up The Suitcase. “Sam has written essays for me. He knows all about titles.”

Without glancing at Miss Perkins, Mrs. Martin says in a firm tone, “4:30.” She turns to Sam. “Why don’t you answer this question? What do you admire most about Winston Churchill?”

“His bravery,” Miss Perkins calls from the doorway. As she exits, Sam feels ungrateful but he is glad that his shadow is gone. Not only his shadow but also his interpreter. And he reminds himself that it’s not her fault that she cannot always express things just as he would say or mean them.

What does Sam admire most about Winnie? As usual, he has to admit that Miss Perkins is right. It’s his bravery. After France surrendered to Germany in June, 1940, Britain, undermanned and under-funded, fought on alone. Winnie turned the terror of a possible defeat into a challenge. Sam remembers the speech Winnie gave after the surrender of France:
Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’
¹⁹

Sam loves the knack that Winnie has of making danger and loneliness seem like opportunities. He also admires the way that during the war, Winnie never acted afraid.

Suddenly, Sam notices Mrs. Martin’s hand hiding her yawn. She is nibbling on her fingernails in impatience. Her dark eyes dart to the clock, then back to the alphabet sheet, pencil and notepad.

He wonders how long he has been lost in thought. He starts writing.

He taps the
I,
then the
A…D…M…I…R…E
and she begins writing them down.

The thought of referring to the name ‘WINSTON CHURCHILL’ over and over again exhausts Sam. He decides to use
WC
.

When Sam selects these initials, Mrs. Martin nods as if she understands. He starts pointing as fast as he can. BECAUSE WC’S SENSE THAT HIS LIFE HAD A PURPOSE KEPT HIM FROM BEING AFRAID. Mrs. Martin is having a hard time keeping up, and he slows down. He loves talking to someone about the things that he thinks about all the time.

WHEN WC WAS FIGHTING IN WORLD WAR I, A GENERAL ASKED WC TO MEET WITH HIM AT A SITE THREE MILES AWAY. AS WC MARCHED TO THE MEETING, THE ROAR OF SHELLS WAS CONSTANT. WHEN WC ARRIVED, HE WAS ANNOYED TO LEARN THAT THE GENERAL NO LONGER WANTED TO SEE HIM.
²⁰

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE MEETING? WC ASKED AN OFFICER.

NOTHING IN PARTICULAR, THE OFFICER TOLD HIM.

WC WAS FURIOUS. HE BEGAN ANOTHER LONG, SLIDING, SLIPPERY, SPLASHING WADDLE BACK TO THE TRENCHES. WHEN HE ARRIVED AT HIS UNIT, ONE OF THE MEN HE SERVED WITH SHOUTED TO HIM. YOU’RE IN LUCK TODAY.

HARDLY, WC REPLIED, THINKING OF HIS LONG POINTLESS TRIP.

YES, YOU ARE. FIVE MINUTES AFTER YOU LEFT, YOUR DUGOUT WAS BLOWN UP. WC’S ROOMMATE WAS DEAD, KILLED BY THE EXPLOSION.

WC SAID, THERE CAME THE STRONG SENSATION THAT A HAND HAD BEEN STRETCHED OUT TO MOVE ME IN THE NICK OF TIME FROM A FATAL SPOT.

I ADMIRE WC BECAUSE HE HAS ALWAYS FELT THAT HAND ON HIS SHOULDER.

DURING WORLD WAR I WITH THOUSANDS OF MEN DYING IN THE BATTLEFIELDS AROUND HIM, WC WROTE TO HIS WIFE, I BELIEVE THAT I AM TO BE PRESERVED FOR FUTURE THINGS.
²¹

WHEN HE WAS FINALLY ELECTED PRIME MINISTER, WC SAID, I FELT AS IF I WERE WALKING WITH DESTINY, AND THAT ALL MY PAST LIFE HAD BEEN BUT A PREPARATION FOR THIS HOUR AND FOR THIS TRIAL. I WAS SURE I SHOULD NOT FAIL.
²²

Despite the dark circles under her eyes, Mrs. Martin is smiling eagerly at him now.

WC ALMOST GOT KILLED MANY TIMES. He pauses. His finger is aching, but he finds the strength to continue. HE LOST A LOT OF ELECTIONS. WHEN HE BECAME PRIME MINISTER DURING WORLD WAR II, MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT THAT GERMANY WOULD WIN THE WAR. AFTER WC LED ENGLAND THROUGH ITS MOST DANGEROUS PERIOD IN HISTORY AND THE WAR IN EUROPE WAS WON, THE VOTERS VOTED HIM OUT OF OFFICE.

BUT SOMEHOW, I THINK WC STILL FELT THAT HAND ON HIS SHOULDER.

Sam begins tapping out his final sentence: I ADMIRE WC SO MUCH BECAUSE HE FELT THE HAND HIS WHOLE LIFE, AND I’VE NEVER EVEN FELT IT ONCE.

When Sam finishes, his finger is shaking. He has never worked it so hard. He looks up to find Mrs. Martin staring intently at him as though she’s never really seen him before. He appreciates the time she is spending with him, especially today when her daughter is ill, but he experiences that resentment that he always feels when someone is shocked by his abilities.

Even though I drool, I’m not stupid
, he wants to say.

Just then, Miss Perkins walks through the door. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Martin, if I’m a bit late. You wouldn’t believe how confusing my life has been lately.”

“It’s fine,” Mrs. Martin says softly. “We’re about finished, aren’t we, Sam?”

His finger is so exhausted that it’s almost limp, but he can’t resist adding…

WC SAYS FREE WILL AND PREDESTINATION ARE IDENTICAL.
^23
†
I DON’T UNDERSTAND EXACTLY WHAT THESE WORDS MEAN, BUT AGAIN I WANT TO BELIEVE.

Mrs. Martin looks up at Miss Perkins. “He’s written an incredible essay.”

Sam feels proud. He also knows if it weren’t for his shaky finger, he’d have a lot more to say. He’s got twelve years worth of thoughts trapped inside.