Bridge to Terabithia

At recess time when he was playing King of the Mountain, he could see that Leslie was surrounded by a group of girls led by Wanda Kay. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could tell by the proud way Leslie was throwing her head back that the others were making fun of her. Greg Williams grabbed him then, and while they wrestled, Leslie disappeared. It was none of his business, really, but he threw Greg down the hill as hard as he could and yelled to no one in particular, “Gotta go.”

He stationed himself across from the girls’ room. Leslie came out in a few minutes. He could tell she had been crying.

“Hey, Leslie,” he called softly.

“Go away!” She turned abruptly and headed the other way in a fast walk. With an eye on the office door, he ran after her. Nobody was supposed to be in the halls during recess. “Leslie. Whatsa matter?”

“You know perfectly well what’s the matter, Jess Aarons.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hair. “If you’d justa kept your mouth shut. You can always watch at my…”

But she had wheeled around again, and was zooming down the hall. Before he could finish the sentence and catch up with her, she was swinging the door to the girls’ room right at his nose. Jess slunk out of the building. He couldn’t risk Mr. Turner catching him hanging around the girls’ room as though he was some kind of pervert or something.

After school Leslie got on the bus before he did and went straight to the corner of the long backseat—right to the seventh graders’ seat. He jerked his head at her to warn her to come farther up front, but she wouldn’t even look at him. He could see the seventh graders headed for the bus—the huge bossy bosomy girls and the mean, skinny, narrow-eyed boys. They’d kill her for sitting in their territory. He jumped up and ran to the back and grabbed Leslie by the arm. “You gotta come up to your regular seat, Leslie.”

Even as he spoke, he could feel the bigger kids pushing up behind him down the narrow aisle. Indeed, Janice Avery, who among all the seventh graders was the one person who devoted her entire life to scaring the wits out of anyone smaller than she, was right behind him. “Move, kid,” she said.

He planted his body as firmly as he could, although his heart was knocking at his Adam’s apple. “C’mon, Leslie,” he said, and then he made himself turn and give Janice Avery one of those look-overs from frizz blond hair, past too tight blouse and broad-beamed jeans, to gigantic sneakers. When he finished, he swallowed, stared straight up into her scowling face, and said, almost steadily, “Don’t look like there’ll be room across the back here for you and Janice Avery.”

Somebody hooted. “Weight Watchers is waiting for you, Janice!”

Janice’s eyes were hate-mad, but she moved aside for Jess and Leslie to make their way past her to their regular seat.

Leslie glanced back as they sat down, and then leaned over. “She’s going to get you for that, Jess. Boy, she is mad.”

Jess warmed to the tone of respect in Leslie’s voice, but he didn’t dare look back. “Heck,” he said. “You think I’m going to let some dumb cow like that scare me?”

By the time they got off the bus, he could finally send a swallow past his Adam’s apple without choking. He even gave a little wave at the back seat as the bus pulled off.

Leslie was grinning at him over May Belle’s head.

“Well,” he said happily. “See you.”

“Hey, do you think we could do something this afternoon?”

“Me, too! I wanna do something, too,” May Belle shrilled.

Jess looked at Leslie. No was in her eyes. “Not this time, May Belle. Leslie and I got something we gotta do just by ourselves today. You can carry my books home and tell Momma I’m over at the Burkes’. OK?”

“You ain’t got nothing to do. You ain’t even planned nothing.”

Leslie came and leaned over May Belle, putting her hand on the little girl’s thin shoulder. “May Belle, would you like some new paper dolls?”

May Belle slid her eyes around suspiciously. “What kind?”

“Life in Colonial America.”

May Belle shook her head. “I want Bride or Miss America.”

“You can pretend these are bride paper dolls. They have lots of beautiful long dresses.”

“Whatsa matter with ’um?”

“Nothing. They’re brand-new.”

“How come you don’t want ’um if they’re so great?”

“When you’re my age”—Leslie gave a little sigh—“you just don’t play with paper dolls anymore. My grandmother sent me these. You know how it is, grandmothers just forget you’re growing up.”

May Belle’s one living grandmother was in Georgia and never sent her anything. “You already punched ’um out?”

“No, honestly. And all the clothes punch out, too. You don’t have to use scissors.”

They could see she was weakening. “How about,” Jess began, “you coming down and taking a look at ’um, and if they suit you, you could take ’um along home when you go tell Momma where I am?”