Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson Page A

whether from the cold or the place, he didn’t know. But he was glad when she turned to leave the grove. All he could think of was dry clothes and a cup of hot coffee and maybe just plunking down in front of the TV for a couple of hours. He was obviously not worthy to be king of Terabithia.Whoever heard of a king who was scared of tall trees and a little bit of water?

    He swung across the creek almost too disgusted with himself to be afraid. Halfway across he looked down and stuck his tongue out at the roaring below. Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Tra-la-la-la-la, he said to himself, then quickly looked up again toward the crab apple tree.
    Plodding up the hill through the mud and beaten-down grasses, he slammed his bare feet down hard. Left, left, he addressed them inside his head. Left my wife and forty-nine children without any gingerbread, think I did right? Right. Right by my…
    â€œWhy don’t we change our clothes and watch TV or something over at your house?”
    He felt like hugging her. “I’ll make us some coffee,” he said joyfully.
    â€œYuk,” she said smiling and began to run for the old Perkins place, that beautiful, graceful run of hers that neither mud nor water could defeat.
    Â 
    It had seemed to Jess when he went to bed Wednesday night that he could relax, that everythingwas going to be all right, but he awoke in the middle of the night with the horrible realization that it was still raining. He would just have to tell Leslie that he wouldn’t go to Terabithia. After all, she had told him that when she was working on the house with Bill. And he hadn’t questioned her. It wasn’t so much that he minded telling Leslie that he was afraid to go; it was that he minded being afraid. It was as though he had been made with a great piece missing—one of May Belle’s puzzles with this huge gap where somebody’s eye and cheek and jaw should have been. Lord, it would be better to be born without an arm than to go through life with no guts. He hardly slept the rest of the night, listening to the horrid rain and knowing that no matter how high the creek came, Leslie would still want to cross it.

TEN
The Perfect Day
    He heard his dad start the pickup. Even though there was no job to go to, he left every morning early to look. Sometimes he just hung around all day at the unemployment office; on lucky days he got picked up to unload furniture or do cleaning.
    Jess was awake. He might as well get up. He could milk and feed Miss Bessie, and get that over with. He pulled on a T-shirt and overalls over the underwear he slept in.
    â€œWhere you going?”
    â€œGo back to sleep, May Belle.”
    â€œI can’t. The rain makes too much noise.”
    â€œWell, get up then.”
    â€œWhy are you so mean to me?”
    â€œWill you shut up, May Belle? You’ll have everyonein the whole house woke up with that big mouth of yours.”
    Joyce Ann would have screamed, but May Belle made a face.
    â€œOh, c’mon,” he said. “I’m just gonna milk Miss Bessie. Then maybe we can watch cartoons if we keep the sound real low.”
    May Belle was as scrawny as Brenda was fat. She stood a moment in the middle of the floor in her underwear, her skin white and goose-bumpy. Her eyes were still drooped from sleep, and her pale brown hair stuck up all over her head like a squirrel’s nest on a winter branch. That’s got to be the world’s ugliest kid, he thought, looking her over with genuine affection.
    She threw her jeans into his face. “I’m gonna tell Momma.”
    He threw the jeans back at her. “Tell Momma what?”
    â€œHow you just stand there staring at me when I ain’t got my clothes on.”
    Lord. She thought he was enjoying it. “Yeah, well,” he said, heading for the door so she wouldn’tthrow anything else at him. “Pretty girl like you. Can’t hardly help myself.” He