Bridge to Terabithia - Katherine Paterson [8]
“Hi.” Leslie Burke had come up beside him.
He shifted slightly away. “Umph.”
“Aren’t you running?”
“Later.” Maybe if he didn’t look at her, she would go back to the upper field where she belonged.
Gary told Earle Watson to bang the start. Jess watched. Nobody with much speed in that crowd. He kept his eyes on the shirttails and bent backs.
A fight broke out at the finish line between Jimmy Mitchell and Clyde Deal. Everyone rushed to see. Jess was aware that Leslie Burke stayed at his elbow, but he was careful not to look her way.
“Clyde.” Gary Fulcher made his declaration. “It was Clyde.”
“It was a tie, Fulcher,” a fourth grader protested. “I was standing right here.”
“Clyde Deal.”
Jimmy Mitchell’s jaw was set. “I won, Fulcher. You couldn’t even see from way back there.”
“It was Deal.” Gary ignored the protests. “We’re wasting time. All threes line up. Right now.”
Jimmy’s fists went up. “Ain’t fair, Fulcher.”
Gary turned his back and headed for the starting line.
“Oh, let ’em both run in the finals. What’s it gonna hurt?” Jess said loudly.
Gary stopped walking and wheeled to face him. Fulcher glared first at Jess and then at Leslie Burke. “Next thing,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “next thing you’re gonna want to let some girl run.”
Jess’s face went hot. “Sure,” he said recklessly. “Why not?” He turned deliberately toward Leslie. “Wanna run?” he asked.
“Sure.” She was grinning. “Why not?”
“You ain’t scared to let a girl race are you, Fulcher?”
For a minute he thought Gary was going to sock him, and he stiffened. He mustn’t let Fulcher suspect that he was scared of a little belt in the mouth. But instead Gary broke into a trot and started bossing the threes into line for their heat.
“You can run with the fours, Leslie.” He said it loudly enough to make sure Fulcher could hear him and then concentrated on the runners. See, he told himself, you can stand up to a creep like Fulcher. No sweat.
Bobby Miller won the threes easily. He was the best of the fourth graders, almost as fast as Fulcher. But not as good as me, Jess thought. He was beginning to get really excited now. There wasn’t anybody in the fours who could give him much of a race. Still it would be better to give Fulcher a scare by running well in the heat.
Leslie lined up beside him on the right. He moved a tiny bit to the left, but she didn’t seem to notice.
At the bang Jess shot forward. It felt good—even the rough ground against the bottom of his worn sneakers. He was pumping good. He could almost smell Gary Fulcher’s surprise at his improvement. The crowd was noisier than they’d been during the other heats. Maybe they were all noticing. He wanted to look back and see where the others were, but he resisted the temptation. It would seem conceited to look back. He concentrated on the line ahead. It was nearing with every step. “Oh, Miss Bessie, if you could see me now.”
He felt it before he saw it. Someone was moving up. He automatically pumped harder. Then the shape was there in his sideways vision. Then suddenly pulling ahead. He forced himself now. His breath was choking him, and the sweat was in his eyes. But he saw the figure anyhow. The faded cutoffs crossed the line a full three feet ahead of him.
Leslie turned to face him with a wide smile on her tanned face. He stumbled and without a word began half walking, half trotting over to the starting line. This was the day he was going to be champion—the best runner of the fourth and fifth grades, and he hadn’t even won his heat. There was no cheering at either end of the field. The rest of the boys seemed as stunned as he. The teasing would come later, he felt sure, but at least for the moment none of them were talking.
“OK.” Fulcher took over. He tried to appear very much