The TV Kid by Betsy Byars

Chapter One
    L ennie was in front of the motel washing off the walk with a hose. He directed the spray on a chewing-gum paper and some grass and twigs. He watched as the trash went down the drain.
    A truck passed on the highway, building up speed for the hill ahead. Lennie glanced up. He watched until the truck was out of sight.
    “Aren’t you through yet?” Lennie’s mother called. “You’ve got to do your homework, remember?”
    He turned off the hose. “I’m through.”
    He started toward the office. At that moment his mom turned on the neon sign, and it flashed red above his head. THE FAIRY LAND MOTEL—VACANCY.
    Lennie paused at the concrete wishing well. There was a concrete elf on one side and, facing him, Humpty Dumpty. With one hand on Humpty Dumpty’s head, Lennie leaned forward and looked down into the wishing well. On the blue painted bottom lay seven pennies, one nickel, and a crumpled Mounds wrapper.
    Lennie walked on to the office. As he went inside, he paused in front of the TV.
    A game show was on, and there were five new cars lined up on a revolving stage. The winning contestant got to pick one of the cars, and if it started, he got to keep it. Only one of the cars was wired to start.
    “It’s the Grand Am,” Lennie said instantly. He felt he had a special instinct for picking the right box or door or car on shows like this. “I know it’s the Grand Am.”
    “Lennie, are you watching television?” his mother called from the utility room.
    “I’m looking for a pencil,” he called back.
    “Well, there are plenty of pencils on the desk.”
    “Where? Oh, yeah, I see one now.”
    Lennie was hoping to stall until he could see if it really was the Grand Am as he suspected.
    The contestant said he wanted to try for the Catalina. “No, the Grand Am, the Grand Am!” Lennie murmured beneath his breath. He found the stub of a pencil on the desk and held it against his chest like a charm.
    “Lennie, I meant what I said about no television,” his mom called.
    “I know you did.”
    “No television at all until those grades pick up.”
    “I know.”
    A commercial came on. “Doc-tor Pep-per, so mis-un-der-stoooooood.”
    “Me and Doctor Pepper,” Lennie mumbled. He knew he had sixty more seconds to stall now. “Where did you say those pencils were?” he called.
    “On the desk.”
    The commercial ended, and the contestant was walking across the stage to the Catalina. He was getting into the car, fastening his seat belt. At the crucial moment Lennie’s mother appeared in the doorway.
    “The pencils are—” She broke off as she saw him. She said sternly, “Lennie, go in my room right now and start studying.”
    “I will, just let me find out if it’s the—”
    “Now!”
    In one incredibly swift move—it was like something out of an old-time movie—Lennie’s mother stepped in front of him. She turned off the television. As the picture faded to one small dot, she and Lennie looked at each other.
    “You didn’t have to do that,” Lennie said. He was hurt. He felt as if his mother had slapped him. “Now I’ll never know if it was the Grand Am.”
    “You’ve got to do your homework.”
    “Well, will you watch for me?”
    “If you go right now.”
    “I’m going. I’m going.” He started from the office. “Only turn the set back on or it won’t warm up in time. You’ll miss it.”
    Once outside the room Lennie stood in the hall and waited. “I wish I was on TV,” he said to himself. “I wish I was getting in the Grand Am.”
    His mother came through the doorway. She took his shoulder and started him into her room. “It was the Firebird,” she said.
    “Oh.” He was strangely disheartened. “Then I wish I was getting in the Firebird.”
    “Well, you won’t be getting in anything till those grades pick up,” his mom said.
    “If you’re thinking I’m too dumb to be on TV—well, half the people you see on those shows are dropouts. Most of the contestants are out of