CHAPTER ONE
Billy Wentworth came through the door into his classroom at the 
Park Lane School. His foot slipped, and he almost fell. But he recov-
ered his balance in time and was able to stay on his feet.
Daniel was twirling and playing funny games, the way he usually 
did. Daniel sometimes made himself into a human top. That was ridicu-
lous, but that was Daniel. He did things like that. Daniel's arms 
whirled and twirled, and the fingertips of one of his hands brushed 
Billy's hand, and Billy immediately thought, "He tried to push me down. 
It was because of him I tripped and almost fell."
He thought about it a bit more, though. No, it wasn't because of 
Daniel he had tripped. He had to adjust himself on his crutches more 
solidly. Then he'd be all right.
Billy was a person with a disability. He had cerebral palsy, 
which made it difficult for him to do various things with his body.


He walked to his seat and sat down. He knew what they would be 
studying science today. So he got out his science book and began read-
ing in it. The school day was about to start. His teacher, Mrs. John-
son, brought the class to order. There was the salute to the flag and a 
moment of silent meditation.
"Science is going to be our first lesson today. Are all of you 
ready?" Mrs. Johnson asked.
"We are," Michael said.
"I know your spirits are very high right now," Mrs. Johnson told 
them, "because you are all thinking about going to the Williams Street 
School today for the Cultural Exposition." She made a gesture as if 
pulling something down from above her. "Each and every one of you are 
like balloons. I must pull you down, down, down to earth."
They laughed, knowing what she said was exactly true. They were 
giggly and hyperactive today.
"First," Mrs. Johnson said, "I want to announce that we have the 
computer." The children turned around in their seats and saw that the 
computer was again in its familiar place in the back of the room. 
"We'll have it until next Monday, when it has to be returned to 
Mrs. Thompson's room across the hallway. Any of you who think you have 
time on the computer, speak to me about it."
Billy raised his hand quickly. He had a story about an African 
lion he was writing, and he was anxious to continue working on that. "I 
have time on the computer. And I want to type now," he said.
"You mean, right now. This morning?" Mrs. Johnson asked him.
"Yes."
"Oh, Billy, are you sure you want to type now? We're going to 
have our science lesson. You're so good at science. Don't you want to 
be around for this class discussion?"


"No, I want to type," he told her. So Mrs. Johnson allowed him to 
go to the computer and type for a while.
As he was getting up on his crutches in order to walk to the com-
puter, Emily got out of her seat. She came up the aisle with her arms 
outstretched, as if she were going to help him.
"No, no," Mrs. Johnson warned her. "Don't help Billy. He is very 
capable of getting up from his seat himself. He can get on his feet and 
start moving on his crutches without help from any of us. And I've told 
you that before. Don't help him."
Emily had to be cautioned frequently not to help Billy. There 
were definitely things he could do for himself. All his teachers at 
Park Lane School had encouraged him to be as independent as possible.
He walked over and sat down at the computer. Turning the computer 
on was easy and fun for him. He brought up the file he had started 
about a week before and began typing. He knew he only had a short time 
to work, but he took it slow and easy. Mr. Reynolds had taught him this 
was the best way to get things done. If he rushed, he would have extra 
spasms in his hands, and that was no good.
Mr. Reynolds was the school's guidance counselor. He took time to 
teach Billy things. Now he was giving him tips and pointers on how he 
could type better on this computer.
Michael dropped his pencil on the floor. It rolled a long dis-
tance and stopped near the computer table. Looking down, Billy saw it 
was just a plain pencil. A few days before Michael had a fancy pencil 
with all sorts of neat colors and a koala bear on its top. 
"Where's your new pencil?" Billy asked in low voice. Class was 
going on, and no one was supposed to speak out loud. Of course, they 
often forgot and broke the rule.
"I don't know where it is," Michael said, also in a low voice. "I 
lost it yesterday."
"You may have left it in the school library when we were there."
"What?"
"It may be in the school library; we were there yesterday," Billy 
repeated.

Michael nodded, which showed he understood. He picked up the 
pencil and returned to his seat.
Billy had a severe speech problem, but he children in his class 
understood what he said pretty well. They had been with him since kin-
dergarten, so they were "used to" his speech. A few times a day, 
though, he had to repeat a sentence, so they would understand.
Billy typed for about thirty minutes more. Then Mrs. Johnson told 
him he had to stop. He saved what he had written and exited the word-
processing program. He turned off the computer and got on his crutches.
He walked up the aisle to his seat, but he didn't sit down. He 
looked and saw that Mr. Reynolds was in the front of the room. Appar-
ently Mr. Reynolds had come to walk with him to the bus. 
It was a good idea to have Billy climb onto the bus and get into 
his seat safely before the mad rush of children came out of Park Lane 
School and swarmed around the bus. It was always good, whenever possi-
ble, to protect Billy from having to walk through heavy, pushing, shov-
ing crowds.
Billy walked up the aisle, smiling at Mr. Reynolds, who was smil-
ing back at him. On his way up the aisle, he had to pass Daniel in his 
seat.
"Watch out," David hissed in a loud whisper. 
Billy turned and looked David in the eye. He laughed, and David 
laughed too. The kids in the class, when they got silly, said that this 
was the most dangerous part of the aisle for Billy. Daniel might do 
anything.
Then he walked over to Mr. Reynolds and out the door with him.








	CHAPTER TWO
As they walked together down the hall, Mr. Reynolds asked Billy, 
"I heard David's remark. What was that about?"
"You know about Daniel. He hits and pushes."
"I know he did once. I don't know about now."
"He still does things," Billy said, firmly.
Mr. Reynolds laughed. "Why, what has Daniel been doing recently 
to get under people's skins?"
"One day last week he complained that I have a teacher's aide 
helping me. He doesn't, and that bothers him. He doesn't think it's 
fair."
"Well, he knows why you have a teacher's aide. He brings up a 
point like that to be difficult. I suppose he also complains that you 
are given lots of time on the computer."
Billy nodded.
Billy had a teacher's aide to help him write. He was also given 
more time to type on the computer than the other children. Typing on 
the computer was the one way that he could write by himself, so it was 
very important for him to have this extra time.
Billy and Mr. Reynolds walked along in silence for a while. They 
came to the school's main entrance. Mr. Reynolds held the door open, 
and Billy walked through it and onto the sidewalk outside.
"If I weren't walking with you this moment," Mr. Reynolds asked 
him, "how would you have opened that door and gone out?"
"I would have waited for someone to come along. Then I would have 
asked the person to open the door for me, and, please, hold it, while I 
went outside."
"Well, you are very resourceful; I can see that. I want to talk 
to you about something."
"I knew it!" exclaimed Billy. "I knew you had a special reason 
for walking with me now."
"Why! I'm walking you to the bus."
"Mrs. Johnson was going to have me walk out to the bus alone."
"How would you have gotten on the bus?" asked Mr. Reynolds.
"Mrs. Johnson would have sent someone out to help me on the bus."
"Yes, I'll confess. Mrs. Johnson asked me if I would meet you at 
the bus and help you get onto it. I wanted to walk this way with you, 
so we could talk."
Billy winced. He thought Mr. Reynolds would be giving him some-
thing hard to do. 
In kindergarten, Mr. Reynolds had helped Billy learn to push a 
toy lawn mower. In first grade, Mr. Reynolds had encouraged him to walk 
down a long corridor when he thought he couldn't. In second and third 
grade, he persuaded him to try typing on the computer. Now what did he 
have in mind for him!
It was hard for Billy when he had to do something with his body 
which was difficult or very new to him. He would shout at the top of 
his voice, "I can't! I can't!" But Mr. Reynolds' voice would boom loud-
ly, "Try! try!" Mr. Reynolds would make him face down his fears. He 
would make him attempt the thing which seemed impossible.
"You are so resourceful getting through this door, I think you 
can do other things," Mr. Reynolds said.
"Like what?"
"I want you to stand behind the counter of a booth at the school 
fair and talk. I want you to sell things to customers. It will only be 
for a few minutes. You will be a substitute. When someone takes a 
break, you'll step in and man a booth for them."
"I can't do it!" Billy insisted. "I can't!"
"You know how much those words mean to me. You know how long I'll 
listen to them."
"About half a second."
"Yes, about half a second. My listening ear is not tuned in to 
those words," said Mr. Reynolds, with a loud "humph-ph-ph!
"I can't!" Billy said again. He knew Mr. Reynolds wouldn't listen 
to it, but he thought he'd put it in another time for good measure.
They had come to the bus now. Mr. Reynolds helped him onto it and 
stayed until Billy had sat down comfortably in his seat.
He looked up at Mr. Reynolds and asked, "How am I going to make 
change when I sell things?"
"Put quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies out in rows," 
Mr. Reynolds suggested. "Then when someone needs change, you can point 
to what you want them to take."
After he left, Billy sat glumly in his seat. He was waiting for 
his friends to come and sit near him. 
If Mr. Reynolds thought he could sell things standing behind a 
booth at the school fair, he probably could. It frightened him, though! 
He sat there, alone on the bus, fidgeting and worrying about it.








	CHAPTER THREE
The children scrambled onto the bus and chose seats quickly. 
Peter sat beside Billy.
"Did you tell your father the joke?" Peter asked.
"No. He might not like it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a joke about women having babies," Billy told him.
The two boys looked at each other and giggled. They looked away 
and tried to be very straight-faced and serious. But in a short while 
they were looking at each other again and giggling.
Sara sat on the seat right in front of them. She turned and 
looked around at them. Her eyes were wide. Pretty soon she'd be calling 
a teacher and telling the teacher to listen to what Billy and Peter 
were saying. That wouldn't be so good.
It wasn't such a bad joke -- naughty bad, that is. It began with 
a joke Billy's father had told. He said that, in heaven, babies are 
lined up. God pokes each baby in the belly and says, "You're done. 
You're done. You're done." That's how children get bellybuttons.
Later when Peter and Billy talked, they extended what Billy's 
father had said. The idea got larger and larger. They thought babies 
were made in heaven and came down to earth on parachutes. They hit the 
ground with a very hard bump, especially if their parachutes didn't 
open. This is what happened to Billy when he was born, they thought. 
His parachute didn't open, and therefore he had cerebral palsy.
Dump trucks picked the babies up and took them to a hospital. 
Then, of course, mothers went to the hospital and chose which baby they 
wanted. 
Peter and Billy had made up a whole new joke. They thought it was 
a better one. "It sure explains cerebral palsy," said Billy. 
Mrs. Johnson came on the bus and walked past them. She found a 
seat to sit in about three seats behind them, on the opposite side of 
the aisle. 
The boys looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled with mis-
chief. It was almost a joke about women having babies. Not quite, but 
almost. It was best not to be laughing at something like that where a 
teacher could hear. That would mean taking a chance it might be wrong. 
Sara was not particularly a tattle-tale, but one never knew.
The bus got started, and it wasn't long before it had taken them 
to the Williams Street School. The children piled out of the bus. Sev-
eral teachers stood around Billy to protect him from the mad rush. In-
side the auditorium of the Williams Street School, Billy found himself 
sitting beside Robert. 
Robert pulled a large, lovely marble from his pocket. "Should I 
trade this?" he asked Billy.
"You could get two or three others for that one."
"Yes, but it's so nice. Maybe I should keep it for myself."
Billy laughed. He had trouble making decisions like that for 
himself. He couldn't help Robert very much now.		
The winners of an art contest were announced. The winners of a 
poster contest were announced. And all sorts of other things having to 
do with either performing arts or studio arts were part of the show. 
Billy and his classmates had a very good time.
When the show was over and it was time for them to go back to 
their own school, Billy trudged up the aisle of the auditorium and out 
its door. He was halfway across a parking lot, when he realized he was 
lost!
A small knot of fear grew in his stomach! He didn't know where 
the others were! He had lost sight of Mrs. Johnson and all the children 
in his class!








	CHAPTER FOUR
He was beginning to become really, really scared, when a teacher 
he knew named Miss Collins came up to him and said, "You're lost from 
your group, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Billy. 
"Here," she said, "let's get you over to this sidewalk. It will 
be a much safer place for you to walk."
She guided Billy around some cars and over to a sidewalk on their 
right. She had him get up onto it, so he would be totally away from the 
traffic in the parking lot.
Just then Billy saw someone in his class. Unfortunately it was 
Daniel.
Miss Collins saw him too and said, pointing, "There, that boy is 
in your class, isn't he? He can walk with you and see that you stay 
safe. In the meantime I'll search for Mrs. Johnson. When I find her, 
I'll tell her where you are."
As he said to Mr. Reynolds the next day, "Why didn't she just let 
me walk there by myself? I can walk alone."
"Because you needed a protector," Mr. Reynolds said, laughing.
"Ah, sure, Daniel. Some protector!!"
Daniel came right away when Miss Collins called him to come over 
to them. "We thought you could help us," she said to him.
"Sure," he said. His eyes were wide. He seemed very willing to 
help. He grabbed one of Billy's crutches with both hands and started to 
pull on it.
"Not that, not that!" Billy screamed.
At that moment -- and in what followed -- it really seemed as 
though Daniel was trying to help. He wasn't being smart-alecky, and he 
wasn't playing tricks. Of course, when Daniel was being good and trying 
to help, watch out! There was as much trouble then as when he was bad.
Miss Collins pointed down the sidewalk and around a curve, to a 
place where the sidewalk met a street about three hundred yards dis-
tant. "Walk down there," she said. "I will tell Mrs. Johnson where 
you're going. Then either she or I can tell the bus driver to pull up 
right there. He can make a special stop just to let the two of you on."
Billy looked down toward the place where he was supposed to walk. 
He prepared himself to walk that distance. He was sure he could do it, 
although his legs were a great deal tired from the walking he had al-
ready done that day.
Miss Collins left to find Mrs. Johnson, telling them to stay 
together and protect each other. After they had walked a little way, 
Daniel said to Billy, "I'm supposed to help you."
"I know."
Billy felt a slight bump on his crutch. He realized that Daniel 
was walking much too close to him. The heel of Daniel's shoe was on the 
pavement just ahead of his crutch. Every several steps, Billy's crutch 
would be hitting Daniel's foot. He knew that wouldn't be so good.
"Daniel, walk a bit over there, please," he said. "If you put 
your foot in front of my crutch, I might trip over it."
"Oh."
Daniel moved over on the sidewalk a foot or so to the right,
and Billy had more room to walk.
"I'll help you whatever way I can. Just tell me how you need 
help."
"You're helping a lot right now, by staying out of the way."
Billy gave an exasperated gasp. What a place to get lost, he 
thought. And why did he get stuck with Daniel at this moment!
Daniel and Billy walked on. But suddenly Daniel sat down in front 
of Billy and asked, "What if we could play a game?"
"There's no time for that now, Daniel. And please move. Get out 
of my way. It's important for me to keep on walking."
"Mmmm-m-m-m."
Daniel seemed to feel that they could actually stop then and play 
a game. He wasn't being mean. He wasn't blocking Billy's way on 
purpose.
"Daniel, move. Please, move," Billy said. "We have to go toward 
the place the bus will pick us up. I can't walk unless you get out of 
my way."
"You can't walk! You can't walk! Can I help you? I'll go get a 
wheelchair."
"Where would you get a wheelchair in this place?" Billy asked. 
"No, Daniel. All I need is to have you get out of my way, so I can 
walk. Don't sit there in front of me!"
"I'll find you a wheelchair and push you some place."
"Where the heck would you push me?"
"Over to find out where Mrs. Johnson and the rest of our class 
are." Daniel told him. He stood up and looked around. "Oh, there's a 
policeman," he said, pointing. "Maybe he help me get a wheelchair for 
you."
Daniel ran off to talk to the policeman.
"That crazy kid!" Billy muttered. He kept on walking as quickly 
as he could.
The policeman came over. He asked him, "Do you have trouble 
talking?"
"Yes."
He asked him for his name, address, and telephone number. He 
asked what his parents names were. He asked him what school he went to, 
what the room number of his classroom was, and so on.
"You're right," the policeman said to Daniel. "He does speak 
weirdly. Does he belong with that class of retarded children over 
there?"
"No!" Billy shouted, interrupting the policeman.
"Think he needs a wheelchair?"
Daniel nodded, but Billy shouted again, "No!"
In the meantime the bus had driven up. Miss Collins and 
Mrs. Johnson climbed down from it and walked over to where the police-
man and children were standing.
"This policeman wants to put me with the retarded class. And he 
thinks I need a wheelchair," Billy said.
"I'll handle this," Mrs. Johnson told Miss Collins. "You take the 
two boys to the bus and see that they get on it."
"All right, children. Let's go," Miss Collins said.
Billy walked as fast as he could to the bus. But in the back-
ground he heard Mrs. Johnson telling the policeman that, no, he be-
longed in her class. He did not belong with the retarded children. And 
he certainly did not need a wheelchair.
Once Billy was on the bus and seated, Mrs. Johnson came on board 
too and sat down beside him. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Where do you think Daniel would have taken you in that 
wheelchair?"
"I don't know," said Billy. "It was pretty scary!"
All of a sudden Billy began to laugh, and Mrs. Johnson laughed 
too. The incident seemed very funny, now that it was over.
Billy became sober after a moment, though. "That policeman wanted 
to take me over and put me in with the retarded class!" he said slowly.
"Well, he didn't understand your speech."
"You mean, when I grow up and talk to policemen, they might not 
understand what I'm saying to them?"
"Yes, it is a possibility," Mrs. Johnson said. "But you know 
that. You know that people who aren't used to listening to your speech, 
don't understand what you're saying very well. Why does it bother you 
so much now?"
"If the policeman had put me with the retarded class, people 
would have thought I was retarded."
"Oh, Billy, you're just scaring yourself! No one will think 
you're retarded, if you're not!" Mrs. Johnson put her arms around him 
and gave him a big hug. "You know you're in a fourth grade class at the 
Park Lane School. You belong on this bus, and no other."








	CHAPTER FIVE
One evening Billy's father asked him, "What did you do with your 
Barry Bonds card?"
Billy's trading cards were all spread out in front of him on the 
kitchen table.
"I traded it to Gary."
"Who's Gary?"
"A boy in Billy's room," Mrs. Wentworth said, speaking up.
"Is he new?" Billy's father asked.
"He's new in the class," Billy's mother said. "I don't know if 
he's new to the school."
"What did you get from Gary in return for your Barry Bonds card?"
"These two."
"Those two!" Mr. Wentworth yelled. "Why did you trade your good 
Barry Bonds card in for two that are junk? Do you even know the names 
of the men on those two pictures?"
"Gary said they were good cards."
"Oh, I'll bet he did. But I'm afraid he cheated you," said 
Billy's father.
Billy made a face.
"Well, ask him to trade it back to you," Mr. Wentworth told him. 
"That's all you have to do."
The next day in school Billy spoke up in class and said, to Gary, 
"I want my Barry Bonds card back."
"You traded it," said Gary. "It was a fair trade. No, you can't 
have it back."
"Talking in class!" Mrs. Johnson said. "How many times have I 
warned all of you not to."
"I want my card back." Billy turned around in his seat so he 
could look at Gary better.
"You can't have it." 
"Yes, I want it!"
"No, it's mine now!" Gary looked at Mrs. Johnson and said, "I 
can't understand what he's saying to me."
"Yes, you do!" Billy said, angrily. "You must understand per-
fectly well. You've been answering back to everything I've said."
"He talks funny," Gary said to Mrs. Johnson, wrinkling his nose.
"Talking in class!" Mrs. Johnson said again. "You know it's wrong 
to speak up in the middle of an arithmetic class. Now I don't know what 
this whole thing is about between the two of you, Gary and Billy. But 
settle it later. Settle it sometime when you're not in class."
Billy cringed. He knew he had gotten very close to getting into 
trouble in his classroom.
That afternoon on the school playground, Billy walked up to Gary. 
He wanted to talk to him about his baseball card. Gary eyed him calmly, 
then walked around the swing set and on to the far side of the two see-
saws.
Billy trudged up to where Gary was now standing. But no sooner 
than he had gotten there, Gary walked away again.
A little later Gary ran up, zoomed around Billy, stuck out his 
tongue at him, then ran away again. Billy stuck out his lower lip 
belligerently.
It was impossible! He couldn't catch Gary on the playground to 
talk to him. And he couldn't talk to him during class.
That evening when Billy's father came home, he asked him, "Well, 
trader Billy. How are things going? Get your Barry Bonds card back?"
"No."
"So Gary wouldn't let you trade it back from him. What's next? 
Are you just going to let it ride?"
"I can't get the card back," said Billy.
"He really can't," said Mrs. Wentworth. "And perhaps it's best to 
leave it alone."
Mr. Wentworth nodded.
"Peter's mother says that Gary and Peter were trading in stamps, 
and Gary got most of Peter's best stamps," Mrs. Wentworth commented.
"This boy, Gary, is quite a fast talker, isn't he?" Billy's 
father said.
"He's an awful person," said Billy, crossly.
"No, don't say that," cautioned Mr. Wentworth. "When Gary wants 
to trade with you for something, just listen to what he's saying very, 
very carefully. And be prepared to say no. A great, loud NO!"








	CHAPTER SIX
The day of the school fair came. Billy's father drove the car up 
to the front door of the school and helped him get out. He walked with 
him up the sidewalk. Many of Billy's friends were standing by that 
door, talking, laughing, and playing. 
Michael had brought his little Scottish terrier, Pumpkins, to 
school with him. Everyone wanted a chance to pet Pumpkins, talk to him, 
and play with him.
Billy didn't want go inside just yet. He wanted to stay outside 
and be with his friends and the dog.
He told his father he'd be all right, so Mr. Wentworth left in 
the car. He and Mrs. Wentworth were coming back to the school later in 
order to buy things at the fair. Only kids were supposed to be in the 
auditorium now to help in setting things up.
The children only meant to stay out playing with the dog a few 
minutes longer. Mr. Benson, a third grade teacher, came out of the door 
right away, though. 
He looked around and immediately saw the dog.
"Who does this dog belong to?" he asked.
"He's mine. I thought it would be fun to bring him to school 
today," Michael answered.
"Dogs are not allowed at school, Michael."
"May I tie him up out here?"
"There's no good place to tie him," said Mr. Benson. "And what if 
he pulls himself loose and runs away? What if a stranger comes, unties 
him, and takes him away?"
Michael stood very still and quiet. He looked frightened.
"Peter," Mr. Benson said, "I want you and Michael to watch the 
dog together. Take him to the very back of the auditorium and watch 
him. Watch him closely."
He glanced quizzically at the whole group. "Aren't some of you 
supposed to be inside, helping?" he asked.
"We all are," they said.
"Hustle in, then. Quickly!" He motioned them toward the door.
He stopped Billy from leaving. "Will you go to the office and 
tell the secretary there, Mrs. Rutgers, to call Michael's parents and 
ask them if they would come and take Michael's dog home?" he asked him.
"I can't," Billy said.
"What do you mean, 'you can't'?"
"Mrs. Rutgers won't understand what I'm saying. She hasn't heard 
me speak very often."
"Go in and try. I think you'll do all right."
When Billy walked into the auditorium after doing the errand, 
Mr. Benson asked him, "You delivered my message to Mrs. Rutgers? How 
did it go?"
"Great!" Billy said, grinning. "I was there while she phoned 
Michael's parents. They're coming for the dog."
"There. I had an idea it would work out. I thought Mrs. Rutgers 
would be patient enough to sit for a time and understand what you were 
saying. And I knew you'd be inventive enough to help her."
Billy worried about the time when he would be taking over a 
booth. Mrs. Rutgers understood him, but now he would be talking to 
people who hadn't ever heard him speak. Would he be able to handle it?
Billy bought a whole lot of things at the fair. He was having a 
very good time, when the call came. Mrs. Johnson tapped him on the 
shoulder and said, "Robert wants a break from working on his booth. 
Would you go over and take his place for a few minutes?"
"I don't want to!" Billy said. "I'm afraid."
"Mr. Reynolds said this was something you should do. And I agree 
with him. I think this would be good for you. So come on, give it a 
try. Will you?"
Billy thought about not doing it. Just saying, no, to her. But he 
decided he had to. So he went over to where he was supposed to be.
At the booth Billy looked over the things he would have to sell 
to customers. They were all craft items made from papier-mâché.
A man approached the booth and looked at a fish, a boat, and a 
bird. He asked Billy questions, and Billy told him all he could about 
these items. But he knew from the look in the man's eyes that he was 
not completely understanding what he was saying. The man went away 
without buying anything. 
A woman appeared and asked about some dolls which sat on tiny 
wooden stools. Again, like the man before, she seemed to have trouble 
understanding Billy's speech. So she left without buying the dolls she 
had been interested in. 
One lady came up and was very interested in a doll which was 
nicely painted and wore a colorful dress of red, blue, and green fab-
ric. She didn't need to ask him the price, because a price tag was on 
the doll. The woman bought it, and Billy was able to make change for 
her. This was his first encounter with the public which went well.
The next few people who came to the booth didn't understand 
Billy's speech. That confused them, so they went away very quickly. 
None of them bought anything.
A man came to the booth and looked carefully at each item on the 
counter. He didn't seem interested in buying anything, however. He 
casually asked Billy, "Are you a student at this school?"
"Yes."
"What grade are you in?"
"Fourth," Billy told him.
"Oh, science becomes very interesting in fourth grade. You must 
enjoy that! And you must be having a lot of social studies too. Fourth 
grade social studies also gets into some interesting things, doesn't 
it?"
Billy smiled. He was pleased. The man was pleasant, and they had 
a conversation together.
Mrs. Johnson returned even before he was anxious for her to come. 
She said Robert would take over the booth again.
As he moved away from the booth, he could see something moving 
under the counter. A person or animal was under there.
He went a little closer and felt around with his hand and poked a 
little with his crutch. A piece of cloth was wrapped around the bottom 
part of the booth, so it was impossible to see what was in there. He 
poked and probed, though.
He heard a laugh. It was David's laugh!
"Oh, you silly dumb-head," Billy yelled.
David had already come out from underneath the booth's counter. 
Looking shame-faced, he said, "I wanted to see how well you did."
"You only 'heard,' you didn't 'see.'"
"But that was enough."
David laughed. Billy gave him a side-long glance, then moved 
calmly away.
It was late in the day; everyone's parents had come. All the 
adults were busy buying things. Most of the children had run out of 
money, so they were standing around talking. Except, of course, for 
those who had booths to man.
Billy's mother said to him, "Let's invite David to eat dinner 
with us tonight."
"Invite him for dinner!" Billy said, startled. He wasn't even 
going to speak to David for a couple of days. Now this!
"Yes, David's parents are going out to dinner with another 
couple, so I said David could have dinner with us."
He didn't want to explain to his mother that he had a grudge 
against David. She definitely wouldn't understand.
He got an idea. He asked his mother, "Can I ask Peter to dinner 
too?"
"Of course. That would be nice. You can have two friends over to 
eat with us tonight."
Billy wasn't mad at David. ....Well, he was half-mad, but that 
was all right.
Having Peter also come over for dinner wasn't a bad idea. He 
would tease David a little in front of Peter. Sometime during dinner, 
he'd bring up what had happened during the afternoon.
He would say, to his parents and Peter, "Know what he did to me?" 
And when he told them, they would say, "Ooo-oo-oo-o." That would be 
fun!
Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 1   Page 1

Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 2   
Page 9


9

Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 3   
Page 12


Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 4   
Page 18

Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 5   
Page 22

Parachute/Baker                                       Chap. 6   
Page 29