Soup by Robert Newton Peck Page A

happier than to discover wildlife in the thickets of some kid’s hair.)
    “Hmm,” said Mama, “there’s no lice in
your
hair.” From that you could tell already that she wasn’t too keen on Miss Boland.
    Now was the time to start praising Miss Boland a bit to sound fair. I’d build up Miss Boland before I destroyed her, to heighten her fall. My one regret was that Soup wasn’t here to enjoy my performance.
    “Come to the point,” said Aunt Carrie.
    “She’s a good nurse,” I said. “She was just doing her job, that’s all. It really wasn’t Miss Boland’s fault. She’s supposed to ask me the question. She asks that awful question to every kid she sees.”
    “What question?”
    “Did your bowels move today? And so I said, ‘Yes, did yours?’ I did what Miss Kelly said to do,” I said, talking like a machine gun. “Miss Boland threw me the question ball, and I caught it and threw it back. That’s the important part. So you really can’t fault Miss Boland. She was only doing her job, like when she looks in my head for bugs. She’s a good nurse. I just can’tblame Miss Boland for all of this. Honest, Mama, it’s not really her doing. If you’re going to blame anybody, you’ve got to blame Miss Kelly or me.”
    That ought to do it, I thought. Mentioning
my
name and Miss Kelly’s in the same breath would certainly put me in the company of those who are beyond suspicion. To punish me now would be like laying a rod to Miss Kelly herself. No one in our town would dare think of performing such a profanity. How could a sane mind even entertain a yank down of Miss Kelly’s britches? They were probably made of iron.
    “Did you apologize to Miss Boland?”
    “Well, not right off. Because for a while I didn’t see how I’d said anything wrong. Honest. All I did was throw back the ball, and I guess Miss Boland didn’t catch it. What made it worse was when the other kids laughed.”
    “They
laughed?”
Aunt Carrie spoke in disbelief.
    “Yes,” I said. “Not all the children laughed. Soup did and a few of the cut-ups. And that’s what made it worse.”
    “What do you mean … worse?”
    “Miss Boland thought they were laughing at
her.”
    “Were they?”
    “No, they were laughing at me, I guess.”
    “What did Miss Kelly say?”
    “Miss Kelly asked the class what was so funny. Nobody answered. So then Miss Boland went over and whispered in Miss Kelly’s ear. All the while Miss Boland was whispering, Miss Kelly was looking right at me.”
    “And she never made you apologize to Miss Boland?”
    “I did that before she told me to. Honest. But the kids were laughing, and I don’t guess Miss Boland heard me say I was sorry. So you can’t say this fuss is all Miss Boland’s fault.”
    “No one said it was,” said Aunt Carrie, “except you.”
    “It’s not Miss Boland’s fault at all,” I said. “But I had to tell you the straight of it, so you’d understand why she does these things.”
    “What things?” said Mama.
    “Looks in your hair for lice. She found a cootie in
my
hair once.”
    “She did not.”
    “Yes, she did. Honest. It was right after I’d been rassling with Rolly McGraw.”
    “Stories,” said Aunt Carrie. “He’s telling stories again. What he needs is a good, sound thrashing.”
    “He’s just going through a stage,” said Mama, “and it all started when he began to see so much of Soup.”
    “It’s not Soup’s fault either,” I said. “If you have to blame somebody, I’m the one who made the mistake. Blame me.”
    “We shall.” Aunt Carrie’s voice rapped out like a gavel.
    But I knew my confession would impress Mama, especially when I heaped the guilt of all the others upon my own little back, insisting that they not share the shame. I was right. My mother believed in me as solidly as I believed in her.
    “Robert,” she said, “were you rude to that nurse on purpose? Or were you only trying to do as Miss Kelly taught you all to do?”
    There it