Bindings Read Free Page B

he himself looked a wreck; he certainly felt a wreck.
    Uh-oh. On further observation Tim recognized that his dad was 100% alert today, for once. The clues were small but there.
    The car accident that had taken Tim’s mother’s life had also caused Tim’s father to lose an arm. Today the empty sleeve of his father’s gray sweater was neatly pinned up. Some days—the bad ones—Mr. Hunter let the empty sleeve dangle, if he got dressed at all. On those days he paid far less attention to Tim, shouting out only for him to come watch some old black-and-white movie on television or to ask absentmindedly how school was, even on a Saturday. Those days, Tim could get away with anything.
    â€œHave you lost your key again? I swear, lad, you’d lose your head if it weren’t attached to your shoulders.”
    Tim pushed past him and entered the house.His father shifted in the doorway and peered at him.
    â€œTim, what are you doing home at this hour? And where are your school clothes?” His father began to follow him. “What happened to you, lad? Did you get into a fight?”
    Tim didn’t answer, just trudged up the stairs to his room, shut the door, and lay facedown on his bed.
    Every muscle hurt. He’d been quite trampled. How was that considered education?
    The downstairs phone rang, and Tim heard his father answer. Good. That meant he’d leave Tim alone a little while longer.
    â€œYes?” Mr. Hunter said. There was a long pause, and then his voice had an edge to it. “Is that a fact? I shouldn’t take that tone if I were you. If anyone wants sorting out for negligence it’s your gym instructor.”
    Did I think the phone call was a good thing? Now I’m going to catch it for sure. Tim stood and crossed to his door. He opened it a crack so he could hear his father’s side of the conversation better. It wasn’t hard, since his father was getting louder as he got angrier.
    â€œOh no?” Mr. Hunter said. “What do you call it when my boy limps in with a split lip? He’s putting up a brave front, but I think he’s got a cracked rib or two. As a matter of fact, I wasabout to run him in for an X ray.”
    Tim’s forehead furrowed. His father was defending him to the school?
    â€œFine,” Mr. Hunter snapped. “Just so we’re clear on one thing. My Tim is not an incorrigible anything. Good-bye.”
    Tim heard his father slam the phone down. Then he heard the creaking of the stairs. He quickly grabbed a book from his desk, sat on his bed, and flipped the book open, trying to not look incorrigible.
    â€œHullo?” Mr. Hunter hovered in the doorway, then stepped into Tim’s room. He seemed ill at ease. Uncertain.
    Tim didn’t know what was coming, so he didn’t know what to do. “Hullo,” he replied.
    â€œWell, I just thought I’d…” Mr. Hunter glanced around Tim’s room, surprised. “What’s all this? No skateboarding chaps on the wall? Owls, is it now?”
    â€œI like owls. Doesn’t everyone?”
    Mr. Hunter perched on the edge of Tim’s bed. “Errrr. Beautiful day outside, isn’t it?”
    This is a brilliant conversation , Tim thought. “Yeah. Looks sort of like yesterday. Quite a lot like yesterday, actually.”
    â€œWhat I mean is, nice as it is, why don’t you go outside and play?”
    â€œPlay?” Tim stared at his dad. He sensed worry and concern—two emotions his father rarely displayed. Self-absorbed melancholy was more his dad’s style.
    â€œYou’ve been looking a bit peaked, lately.”
    â€œPeaked?” Who is this man , Tim wondered, and what have they done with my father?
    â€œReally, Tim, you’re getting to be a regular recluse. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Dad has noticed me? This is news. In addition to surprise, Tim also felt it was too little, too late.