Dead Ends Read Free Page A

I couldn’t think of anyone at school worth being afraid of, but then again, I wasn’t short like this kid. He was built like a little boulder, but if he had to reach up to fight back, he could be in trouble.
    â€œYou go to Twain?” I asked.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œFreshman?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œDown syndrome?”
    â€œ
Obviously
,” he said, like he was talking to the dumbest person on earth. He rolled his eyes and shifted his backpack upward. I noticed his tongue poked out a tiny bit; it rested on his lower lip and pulled back only when he spoke.
    â€œSo you think following me around without my permission is going to
keep
you from getting your ass kicked?”
    â€œWell, not now,” he said.
    â€œGood.” I turned in the grass and moved toward the street.
    â€œNow I’ll tell them how you’re scared of me.”
    I tripped over my own feet trying to spin around and stumbled backward onto the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYou ran away from me.” He joined me on the concrete and stamped the dew out of his shoes.
    â€œDude, I didn’t run away from you.”
    â€œUh, yes, you did. You went
over
the flowers and everything like this.” He flattened his hand and made a sailing motion with his arm. He swung it high, right in front of my face, and added a
shwooo
sound effect. I resisted the urge to push his arm away.
    â€œI was running to get ahead of you,” I said. “So I could … soyou would …” Then I shut up. The running thing seemed pretty stupid now.
    â€œSo you could scare me,” he said.
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œThat’s why I followed you. Because you scare people.”
    â€œWell, congratulations. You’re scary, too. Following me is creepy.”
    â€œIt’s only creepy if we don’t walk
together
.”
    I pressed my fingers to my temples. I did not have time to argue with someone who had an answer for everything. We were late to school as it was, and I couldn’t afford another detention. So I did the only thing I could think of and started moving down the sidewalk. It was a moment before I realized he wasn’t moving with me. I sighed, and without looking back, I flicked my wrist, motioning for him to join me.
    â€œWalk,” I commanded.
    He hurried up next to me. “Thanks, I—”
    â€œNo talking,” I interrupted, still staring straight ahead as we walked. “No crying, no staring, no comments on my clothes. But mostly no talking. And if we see anyone from school, you scram to the other side of the street.”
    I glanced over to see if he was paying attention. He nodded eagerly.
    â€œIf you break any of these rules, you get knocked in the head, got it?”
    â€œGot it,” he said, then immediately broke the rules by talking. “My name’s Billy Drum. But everybody calls me Billy D.”
    â€œDon’t care.”
    â€œWho are you?”
    I smirked. “I’m your worst nightmare.”
    â€œYou’re not my worst nightmare. My worst nightmare is about a snake and a—”
    â€œI
don’t care
.”
    â€œMy next-door neighbor Mark calls you ‘
that dick
,’ but that’s not your name. I know what a dick is, and it’s not a name. In my life skills class, they call it a penis. But I know it’s also called a dick, and it’s definitely not a na—”
    â€œ
Dude!
I don’t want to talk about dicks with you.”
    â€œWhat do you want to talk about?”
    â€œI want to—” I threw up my hands, then paced a few steps backward down the sidewalk and forward again. “I don’t want to talk about anything! Go away!”
    Billy was unfazed by my outburst. I picked up my pace, and he adjusted his stride to match mine. “Okay, but if you tell me your name, I’ll tell Mark, and he won’t call you
‘that dick’
anymore.”
    â€œThat little punk knows