Bridge to Terabithia Read Free Page B

he said between his teeth. “I’ll get you. You can’t beat me.”
    â€œIf you’re so afraid of the cow,” the voice said, “why don’t you just climb the fence?”
    He paused in midair like a stop-action TV shot and turned, almost losing his balance, to face the questioner, who was sitting on the fence nearest the old Perkins place, dangling bare brown legs. Theperson had jaggedy brown hair cut close to its face and wore one of these blue undershirtlike tops with faded jeans cut off above the knees. He couldn’t honestly tell whether it was a girl or a boy.

    â€œHi,” he or she said, jerking his or her head toward the Perkins place. “We just moved in.”
    Jess stood where he was, staring.
    The person slid off the fence and came toward him. “I thought we might as well be friends,” it said. “There’s no one else close by.”
    Girl, he decided. Definitely a girl, but he couldn’t have said why he was suddenly sure. She was about his height—not quite though, he was pleased to realize as she came nearer.
    â€œMy name’s Leslie Burke.”
    She even had one of those dumb names that could go either way, but he was sure now that he was right.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œIs something the matter?”
    â€œYeah. No.” He pointed his thumb in the direction of his own house, and then wiped his hair offhis forehead. “Jess Aarons.” Too bad May Belle’s girl came in the wrong size. “Well—well.” He nodded at her. “See you.” He turned toward the house. No use trying to run any more this morning. Might as well milk Miss Bessie and get that out of the way.
    â€œHey!” Leslie was standing in the middle of the cow field, her head tilted and her hands on her hips. “Where you going?”
    â€œI got work to do,” he called back over his shoulder. When he came out later with the pail and stool, she was gone.

THREE
The Fastest Kid in the Fifth Grade
    Jess didn’t see Leslie Burke again except from a distance until the first day of school, the following Tuesday, when Mr. Turner brought her down to Mrs. Myers’ fifth-grade class at Lark Creek Elementary.
    Leslie was still dressed in the faded cutoffs and the blue undershirt. She had sneakers on her feet but no socks. Surprise swooshed up from the class like steam from a released radiator cap. They were all sitting there primly dressed in their spring Sunday best. Even Jess wore his one pair of corduroys and an ironed shirt.
    The reaction didn’t seem to bother her. She stood there in front, her eyes saying, “OK, friends, here I am,” in answer to their openmouthed stares while Mrs. Myers fluttered about trying to figure where toput the extra desk. The room was a small basement one, and five rows of six desks already filled it more than comfortably.
    â€œThirty-one,” Mrs. Myers kept mumbling over her double chin, “thirty-one. No one else has more than twenty-nine.” She finally decided to put the desk up against the side wall near the front. “Just there for now uh—Leslie. It’s the best we can do—for now. This is a very crowded classroom.” She swung a pointed glance at Mr. Turner’s retreating form.
    Leslie waited quietly until the seventh-grade boy who’d been sent down with the extra desk scraped it into position hard against the radiator and under the first window. Without making any noise, she pulled it a few inches forward from the radiator and settled herself into it. Then she turned once more to gaze at the rest of the class.
    Thirty pairs of eyes were suddenly focused on desktop scratches. Jess ran his forefinger around the heart with two pairs of initials, BR + SK, trying to figure out whose desk he had inherited. Probably Sally Koch’s. Girls did more of the heart stuff in fifth grade than boys. Besides BR must be Billy Rudd, and