over his usually grinning freckled face was a solemn and worried look. He didn’t seem the same Stacey.
“Gee, Ronald...” His face sobered even more at the sight of the bed.
“Hi there, Stacey...” Funny, the mere exertion of talking tired him. Just talking was hard work. Stacey stood there, awkwardly, saying nothing, staring at him with open eyes. Now he, Ronald, was on the receiving end. Or was it Stacey? That was it, Stacey was on the receiving end. You had to go through things of this sort really to understand.
The redhead came closer to the bed. “Gee, Ronald, I feel bad about this. You dunno how bad I feel...”
Same thing, only with Stacey on the receiving end this time. Same thing, same words. Wasn’t that about all he could stammer out one morning last fall in front of Meyer Goldman and his father? Gee, Goldman... yes, he knew how Stacey felt.
“Forget it, Jim. It’s ok. I hit you first, anyway; I had it coming to me.” First, last, what difference did it make? When you knocked a man out, it was all the same. He knew, he understood how that stammering Irish boy felt. Why, only a few months ago he had felt exactly the same in the same kind of a room on the same floor of this same building. Didn’t some teacher somewhere say that history repeated itself?
“Aw, say, Ronald, look here... look, you’re coming ok, aren’t you? You’re gonna come through all right....”
“Sure. Sure I’m ok. It just knocked me out, that’s all. Seems like those tiled floors are harder than my head.” He tried to laugh, he did laugh, and a twinge of pain shot up the back of his neck. He moved uneasily. Stacey noticed it immediately.
“No fooling! Honest to goodness, are you better? Are you? Look, Ronald, I didn’t mean to lay you out on purpose, honest I didn’t. I just got mad and hit back, that’s all.”
Same words, same situation, same feeling. He knew, he understood. You had to go through things like this, to hit a man and almost cripple him, you had to be on the receiving end before you understood.
“I getcha, Jim. Don’t worry; it’s nothing, and I’m all right.” Then a thought struck him. “Hey, Jim! Sorta looks like we’re all square now, doesn’t it?”
Stacey was puzzled at first. Then he got it. “Oh. You mean for Meyer Goldman?”
“That’s it.”
“Uhuh. Guess so. Say, you understand, don’t you, Ronald? You understand how it was?”
“I understand, better’n you could think, Jim. Just forget it all.”
“An’ about Brewster. Gee, I’m sorry I pestered that kid. I never realized, exactly. Only sometimes he just sort of, well, I dunno, he sort of...”
“Yeah. I understand. He’s irritating often, that kid is. He doesn’t mean to be.”
“I know. I’ve cut that all out; it’s over, see, Ronald?”
“That’s fine, Jim. I’m glad.”
“So hurry up and get well, will you? We’re gonna have some ball team this spring; we could sure use you out there in the field. Practice begins next week, so try and make it.”
It was the first time anyone at Abraham Lincoln had needed him or said they needed him. Also the first time anyone had spoken of the school as “we” to him. He wanted to say something, but just then the nurse poked her face in the room and began making signs to Stacey. Then he noticed there were pains in his head once more.
“Yeah, an’ one more thing.” Stacey edged toward the door. “She never called you up at all, Ronny; she never did it.”
Ronny sat up. The sudden movement sent a burst of pain up the back of his head; but he didn’t care. “What d’you mean? She didn’t...”
Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to mention her name. “She didn’t? What d’you mean; how d’you mean, Jim?”
“Nope. She never knew a thing about the whole affair. It was all my gag. All of it. I planned it, see, ’cause I saw she liked you from the first day you came to Abraham Lincoln. So I got Helen Kempner, that’s the big girl with glasses,
“Gee, Ronald...” His face sobered even more at the sight of the bed.
“Hi there, Stacey...” Funny, the mere exertion of talking tired him. Just talking was hard work. Stacey stood there, awkwardly, saying nothing, staring at him with open eyes. Now he, Ronald, was on the receiving end. Or was it Stacey? That was it, Stacey was on the receiving end. You had to go through things of this sort really to understand.
The redhead came closer to the bed. “Gee, Ronald, I feel bad about this. You dunno how bad I feel...”
Same thing, only with Stacey on the receiving end this time. Same thing, same words. Wasn’t that about all he could stammer out one morning last fall in front of Meyer Goldman and his father? Gee, Goldman... yes, he knew how Stacey felt.
“Forget it, Jim. It’s ok. I hit you first, anyway; I had it coming to me.” First, last, what difference did it make? When you knocked a man out, it was all the same. He knew, he understood how that stammering Irish boy felt. Why, only a few months ago he had felt exactly the same in the same kind of a room on the same floor of this same building. Didn’t some teacher somewhere say that history repeated itself?
“Aw, say, Ronald, look here... look, you’re coming ok, aren’t you? You’re gonna come through all right....”
“Sure. Sure I’m ok. It just knocked me out, that’s all. Seems like those tiled floors are harder than my head.” He tried to laugh, he did laugh, and a twinge of pain shot up the back of his neck. He moved uneasily. Stacey noticed it immediately.
“No fooling! Honest to goodness, are you better? Are you? Look, Ronald, I didn’t mean to lay you out on purpose, honest I didn’t. I just got mad and hit back, that’s all.”
Same words, same situation, same feeling. He knew, he understood. You had to go through things like this, to hit a man and almost cripple him, you had to be on the receiving end before you understood.
“I getcha, Jim. Don’t worry; it’s nothing, and I’m all right.” Then a thought struck him. “Hey, Jim! Sorta looks like we’re all square now, doesn’t it?”
Stacey was puzzled at first. Then he got it. “Oh. You mean for Meyer Goldman?”
“That’s it.”
“Uhuh. Guess so. Say, you understand, don’t you, Ronald? You understand how it was?”
“I understand, better’n you could think, Jim. Just forget it all.”
“An’ about Brewster. Gee, I’m sorry I pestered that kid. I never realized, exactly. Only sometimes he just sort of, well, I dunno, he sort of...”
“Yeah. I understand. He’s irritating often, that kid is. He doesn’t mean to be.”
“I know. I’ve cut that all out; it’s over, see, Ronald?”
“That’s fine, Jim. I’m glad.”
“So hurry up and get well, will you? We’re gonna have some ball team this spring; we could sure use you out there in the field. Practice begins next week, so try and make it.”
It was the first time anyone at Abraham Lincoln had needed him or said they needed him. Also the first time anyone had spoken of the school as “we” to him. He wanted to say something, but just then the nurse poked her face in the room and began making signs to Stacey. Then he noticed there were pains in his head once more.
“Yeah, an’ one more thing.” Stacey edged toward the door. “She never called you up at all, Ronny; she never did it.”
Ronny sat up. The sudden movement sent a burst of pain up the back of his head; but he didn’t care. “What d’you mean? She didn’t...”
Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to mention her name. “She didn’t? What d’you mean; how d’you mean, Jim?”
“Nope. She never knew a thing about the whole affair. It was all my gag. All of it. I planned it, see, ’cause I saw she liked you from the first day you came to Abraham Lincoln. So I got Helen Kempner, that’s the big girl with glasses,
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