awe-some. But the thunder growled and barked, and I was all by myself and the electricity went off, so I couldn't watch a movie, and I couldn't find a candle or a flashlight. I started to feel like a bad thing was out there, bamming on the sides of your trailer. Howling at me. Every time I looked at a window, I expected Jack
Nicholson's face to show up saying "Heeeeeeere's Johnny," and then he'd chase me through mountains of snow with an ax. I shoved some furniture in front of the door in case the double bolt broke.
Now it's light outside, sort of. At least it's not night anymore, but it's still stormy. The lights are back on, but I don't know what time it is. You know what? I'm not leaving here until Jimmy's truck is gone. I think I will have a Velveeta movie day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Travis let the gray drizzle fall on him. He didn't want to go to school, and he couldn't stay home. Grandpa was still in bed and was probably going to miss work. Good thing Travis hadn't gotten all on board with Grandpa's changes, because everything looked to be going off board pretty fast.
Grandpa hadn't made dinner in days, they were running out of groceries, and all the asking about homework had stopped. The whole thing had lasted, what, maybe a month?
Travis shoved himself away from the bridge railing with a sigh. He dragged his feet through town. For a while there, he'd even thought he could be a new Travis. But really, everything was the same, especially him. Same old bluefish.
He got to school late, after the first bell. On his way to social studies, he ran into McQueen.
"Mr. Roberts, pick your head up there and look around - oh. Something wrong?"
Travis shrugged.
"Problem with the reading?"
McQueen could make mud clump up in Travis's throat like nobody else.
"Come by after fourth period. Bring the book, and we'll see what tripped you up." McQueen nodded, making his eyes big. "Really, we'll fix it."
Travis paused outside Gordon's room. If Velveeta poked him in the neck, he'd just tell her to quit it. She could mind her own business for once.
Her seat was empty, though, and relief washed all over him along with a taste of disappointment.
Bradley snagged Travis in the hall between bells.
"Where's Velveeta?" he asked. "Is she sick?"
"I don't know."
At least Bradley didn't know, either.
"I'll sit by you at lunch, okay?"
"Can't, I'm busy," said Travis.
Good thing he had McQueen. Anything was better than listening to Bradley talk about Velveeta. After fourth period, McQueen sat on the desk in front of him, feet on the chair.
"So what's the problem, Mr. Roberts? Something must have happened. Give me a clue. Sounds like?"
"It's not reading," said Travis. "I mean sure, I learned some words. But when I look at the page, they don't look like anything."
"Ah," said McQueen. "You tried to jump ahead."
Wasn't Travis's idea to jump ahead. That was
Velveeta's idea.
"Hm. If you insist on jumping, let's make a jump you can do. Because getting discouraged is not on the program. Wait right here."
McQueen came back from his office witha bright orange-and-green book. He opened it in the middle and pointed at the sentence above the picture.
"Read this."
"The. Bl. Blue. Dog. Is. In." said Travis.
"Good. Now do it again."
McQueen made him do it three times. Then he said,
"Read it like you're telling me something I need to know."
"The blue dog is in."
"Read it like your hair's on fire."
"The blue dog is in." Travis said it a bit louder, a bit faster.
McQueen grinned and closed the book. "Okay, that probably is how you'd say it if your hair was on fire. Anyway, that's what most kids learn toread on. Took you maybe three minutes."
"But that's a book for little kids."
"Right. Remember when you asked why we're not using an easier book?
Because you're not a child, and this is too easy. We're using a book at your level, and it's hard, and you're doing just fine. Now, go get some lunch."
Travis was halfway out the door when McQueen
Nicholson's face to show up saying "Heeeeeeere's Johnny," and then he'd chase me through mountains of snow with an ax. I shoved some furniture in front of the door in case the double bolt broke.
Now it's light outside, sort of. At least it's not night anymore, but it's still stormy. The lights are back on, but I don't know what time it is. You know what? I'm not leaving here until Jimmy's truck is gone. I think I will have a Velveeta movie day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Travis let the gray drizzle fall on him. He didn't want to go to school, and he couldn't stay home. Grandpa was still in bed and was probably going to miss work. Good thing Travis hadn't gotten all on board with Grandpa's changes, because everything looked to be going off board pretty fast.
Grandpa hadn't made dinner in days, they were running out of groceries, and all the asking about homework had stopped. The whole thing had lasted, what, maybe a month?
Travis shoved himself away from the bridge railing with a sigh. He dragged his feet through town. For a while there, he'd even thought he could be a new Travis. But really, everything was the same, especially him. Same old bluefish.
He got to school late, after the first bell. On his way to social studies, he ran into McQueen.
"Mr. Roberts, pick your head up there and look around - oh. Something wrong?"
Travis shrugged.
"Problem with the reading?"
McQueen could make mud clump up in Travis's throat like nobody else.
"Come by after fourth period. Bring the book, and we'll see what tripped you up." McQueen nodded, making his eyes big. "Really, we'll fix it."
Travis paused outside Gordon's room. If Velveeta poked him in the neck, he'd just tell her to quit it. She could mind her own business for once.
Her seat was empty, though, and relief washed all over him along with a taste of disappointment.
Bradley snagged Travis in the hall between bells.
"Where's Velveeta?" he asked. "Is she sick?"
"I don't know."
At least Bradley didn't know, either.
"I'll sit by you at lunch, okay?"
"Can't, I'm busy," said Travis.
Good thing he had McQueen. Anything was better than listening to Bradley talk about Velveeta. After fourth period, McQueen sat on the desk in front of him, feet on the chair.
"So what's the problem, Mr. Roberts? Something must have happened. Give me a clue. Sounds like?"
"It's not reading," said Travis. "I mean sure, I learned some words. But when I look at the page, they don't look like anything."
"Ah," said McQueen. "You tried to jump ahead."
Wasn't Travis's idea to jump ahead. That was
Velveeta's idea.
"Hm. If you insist on jumping, let's make a jump you can do. Because getting discouraged is not on the program. Wait right here."
McQueen came back from his office witha bright orange-and-green book. He opened it in the middle and pointed at the sentence above the picture.
"Read this."
"The. Bl. Blue. Dog. Is. In." said Travis.
"Good. Now do it again."
McQueen made him do it three times. Then he said,
"Read it like you're telling me something I need to know."
"The blue dog is in."
"Read it like your hair's on fire."
"The blue dog is in." Travis said it a bit louder, a bit faster.
McQueen grinned and closed the book. "Okay, that probably is how you'd say it if your hair was on fire. Anyway, that's what most kids learn toread on. Took you maybe three minutes."
"But that's a book for little kids."
"Right. Remember when you asked why we're not using an easier book?
Because you're not a child, and this is too easy. We're using a book at your level, and it's hard, and you're doing just fine. Now, go get some lunch."
Travis was halfway out the door when McQueen
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