A Troublesome Boy

A Troublesome Boy Read Free Page B

Book: A Troublesome Boy Read Free
Author: Paul Vasey
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something. The one who gave me the knife. Taught me how to pick locks and hot-wire cars. I was in and out of the first place in under five minutes, the woman’s purse in my hand. Sixty bucks in cash in her wallet.”
    â€œHow’d they catch you?”
    â€œWorked the neighborhood once too often. The cops were waiting for me when I came out of the last place. The judge said I could take my pick: six months in juvenile or a year here. Hard to break out of juvie. I’ll be out of here by the end of September.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œWalk out the door. Head for the highway.”
    â€œYou can take me with you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome to tag along. I’m going out to B.C. You can live on the beach year round out there. Just spend your time fishing and swimming, eating and drinking. Sitting around a campfire listening to the waves — ‘
. . . and wreaths of smoke/Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!/ . . . . where by his fire/The Hermit sits alone.
’ Wordsworth.” He held up
The Selected Poems of William Wordsworth
. From the looks of it — dog-eared cover, dirt smudges on the edges of the pages — he’d been reading the same book since he was six.
    â€œYou pansies just going to sit there or you gonna play?” The kid had black hair, major ducktail. He was about six-one, six-two. No shirt, all muscle, sweat and attitude. He was bouncing the basketball in front of us.
    â€œNot interested,” said Cooper.
    â€œYeah, I’m in.” I turned to Cooper. “Watch my stuff?”
    â€œAnything worth stealing in there?”
    â€œSocks and underwear.”
    â€œI’ll check it out.” Same little smile.
    It was quarter to eight. The jock’s name was Billy Mather. He was in grade eleven. He was on the football team. He was also on the basketball team, as I found out when he started dribbling circles around me. I chased him up one side of the gym and down the other and never did get my hand on the ball.
    I was winded ten minutes later when Brother Wilbur reappeared at the door and flicked the lights on and off.
    â€œLet’s go, gentlemen.”
    My bag was where I’d left it. Cooper had vanished.
    I was bringing up the rear and Brother Wilbur was right behind me. At the end of the hall there was a cafeteria.
    â€œForm a line,” said Brother Wilbur. “Three cookies each. One glass of milk.”
    Against the far wall was a counter. At the far end there was a tray piled with cookies, straight out of the box. Beside the cookie tray was another tray with plastic glasses and beside that was the milk dispenser. The Brother was a hawk, counting the cookies on each plate.
    â€œFifteen minutes, gentlemen.” He consulted the clock on the wall.
    â€œAre we allowed to talk?” This was the smart-ass who was walking with Mather at the head of the line.
    â€œDon’t try my patience, Mr. Grainger. It’s been a long day.”
    Guys were choosing tables. Mather and Grainger were at one table with a couple of other guys. The rest were in twos and threes at tables nearby. I chose an empty table at the far side of the room. Brother Wilbur was hovering.
    â€œIs there any place I can buy a lock for my locker?”
    Icy stare. “Tuck shop is closed. You can try there tomorrow. Are you always anti-social, Mr. Clemson?”
    â€œUsually.”
    â€œAnti-social boys are problematic. We do not like problematic boys here, Mr. Clemson. Join the boys at that table.” He pointed at the table beside Mather’s. I got up and shouldered my bag, took my plate and glass to the next table. Brother Wilbur was right on my heels.
    There was Cooper, slouched in the doorway.
    Brother Wilbur gave him the eye. “Who are you?”
    â€œCooper.”
    â€œDo you have a first name, Mr. Cooper?”
    â€œYeah. How’d you guess?”
    Giggles and snorts from a couple of tables.
    â€œWould

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