my　desk　and　here's　my　window；　and

right　across　the　street　from　me　is　Juli；　beating　up　a

bush。　Not　conducive　to　concentration。　No　siree；　Bob。　I　got　all　of　zero　homework　done。

The　next　day　at　school　I　was　trying　to　get　up　the　nerve　to　say　something　to　her；　but　I　never

even　got　the　chance。　She　wouldn't　let　me　get　anywhere

near　her。

Then　on　the　ride　home　I　had　this　thought。　It　kind　of　freaked　me　out　at　first；　but　the　more　I

played　with　it；　the　more　I　figured　that；　yeah；　helping　her

with　the　yard　would　make　up　for　my　having　been　such　a　jerk。　Assuming　she　didn't　boss　me

too　much；　and　assuming　she　didn't　decide　to　get　all

………　Page　37………

gooey…eyed　or　something　stupid　like　that。　No；　I'd　go　up　and　just　tell　her　that　I　felt　bad　for

being　a　jerk　and　I　wanted　to　make　it　up　to　her　by　helping　her

cut　back　some　bushes。　Period。　End　of　story。　And　if　she　still　wanted　to　be　mad　at　me　after

that；　then　fine。　That　was　her　problem。

My　problem　was；　I　never　got　the　chance。　I　came　trekking　down　from　the　bus　stop　to　find　my

grandfather　doing　my　good　deed。

Now；　jump　back。　This　was　not　something　I　could　immediately　absorb。　My　grandfather　did　not

do　yard　work。　At　least；　he'd　never　offered　to　help

me　out。　My　grandfather　lived　in　house　slippers　—　where'd　he　get　those　work　boots？　And

those　jeans　and　that　flannel　shirt　—　what　was　up　with

those？

I　crouched　be